<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733</id><updated>2011-09-09T11:34:31.385-07:00</updated><category term='greeting'/><title type='text'>Heartzlady</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>62</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8332969365726250853</id><published>2009-07-29T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T12:56:24.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Closing this Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Any relationship I ever had with J is over, I don't want to hear from him and I don't want to know what's going on in his life. Sadly he doesn't seem to feel the same way about me because he keeps coming to this blog and reading. It's the main reason I haven't had much to say on here lately, it's just kinda creepy to know that anything I say is being read by him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm closing this blog and opening another one. The new one would be a DD, D/s, spanking blog. It would be my thoughts and feelings, concerns and joys, that I could honestly put into words without having the thought of J's reading it enter my head. I hate the feeling of editing myself here and I want someplace where I can be open and free again without concern.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If you would like the addy of the new blog, please email me at &lt;a href="mailto:TerriB1126@yahoo.com"&gt;TerriB1126@yahoo.com&lt;/a&gt; and put something like 'your new blog' in the subject line so I know you're not spam. I HATE closing this blog, but it's not able to serve it's purpose anymore thanks to him :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8332969365726250853?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8332969365726250853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8332969365726250853&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8332969365726250853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8332969365726250853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/07/thinking-about-closing.html' title='Closing this Blog'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-3341040653853821695</id><published>2009-07-09T15:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T15:52:57.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kisses</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, my back is mostly back in shape. I've found the most amazing cure for when it does go out... spending time with S! I arrived at his house barely able to walk, and standing up straight wasn't even an option. Hours later S came home from work and cuddled me to him, then rubbed my back for awhile. Not only did that make me mobile again, but after a couple of days with S I was walking upright and feeling no pain. The occasional ache yes, but pain was thankfully a memory!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;S didn't allow my bad back to get me out of some consequences I had coming, but he did make sure I was in positions that were supporting and didn't make things any worse. I'm sure he'd probably disagree with me, but I kinda got the impression he held back a wee bit due to my back, and it's just another reason I trust him as much as I do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Recently I was able to spend a couple of days with S and Sw (Sir wife) and lets just say that now the reason I can't sit comfortably has nothing to do with my back and everything to do with the 'kisses' I have from the center of my bottom to the middle of my thighs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Different people have different words to describe them; bruises, marks, welts, track-marks. But I like to call them kisses. To me they are reminders of where he kissed me with an implement hard enough (or often enough) to leave me a reminder of how much he cares about me. When I have to go back home they're something I can look at in the mirror and remember that I'm not alone, that someone cares enough about me to protect me from the monsters in the world. When I see them I can almost imagine him kissing me where each one is and telling me to be a good girl and to take care of myself for him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm proud of my kisses, and I float in a great headspace while I wear them. Then comes the sad day when I go to look at them in the mirror and see they've faded away... of course then I think about how the next time I see him he'll give me more and I smile again :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-3341040653853821695?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/3341040653853821695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=3341040653853821695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3341040653853821695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3341040653853821695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/07/kisses.html' title='Kisses'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4667391158082946945</id><published>2009-06-25T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T15:13:35.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back again, back again... no jigity jig!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Once again my back has gone out. It used to go out every couple of years, but this is the 2nd time this year and it's only June!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'll be back when simply typing here doesn't cause me pain :(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4667391158082946945?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4667391158082946945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4667391158082946945&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4667391158082946945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4667391158082946945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/06/back-again-back-again-no-jigity-jig.html' title='Back again, back again... no jigity jig!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-826648954366605220</id><published>2009-06-16T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T07:36:59.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Been busy LOL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sorry for not posting here in so long! Life has been so busy that I haven't had a chance to get here and post about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had L here for company all of last week. I loved having her here! We don't have to entertain each other, we just enjoy each others company and veg together LOL! Then S came back on Friday to pick her up, and stayed the weekend. He's a great friend too, so it was fun having him around.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On Saturday night C and L came over. S grilled burgers, L did all the prep work in the kitchen and made wonderful potato salad. C and L brought their famous (or should that be infamous!) double-shot margarita's!!! I got to do nothing but enjoy all the great friends I had in my house. It was a wonderful evening with food, drinks and good friends and I can't wait to do it again!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;OUPS! I just realized I now have two people on here I refer to as S!!! One is my Sir and the other is a great friend who's married to another great friend. I guess from now on I'll have to preface when S stands for Sir LOL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Speaking of whom, Sir has been taking very good care of me! I got my consequence spankings taken care of and then got to enjoy a 'just because he wanted to' one. Spankings from S are tough to take when he's giving them, but I can't tell you how much I enjoy the after-effects! When my bottom is tender I am a very happy woman LOL! I could do without his cane tho!! That thing is way too effective and he knows it! It's really hot here and I've been having to wear capri's instead of shorts today because I have 'cane kisses' on my thighs! I'm not complaining tho, I love looking behind me in the mirror and seeing them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, as I said, life has been busy here lately... and I've been enjoying it alot :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-826648954366605220?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/826648954366605220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=826648954366605220&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/826648954366605220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/826648954366605220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/06/been-busy-lol.html' title='Been busy LOL!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-6141718757077456865</id><published>2009-06-03T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T11:58:31.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good vs Bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It seems pretty obvious that things that are good are always going to be preferred to things that are bad. The only exception to this is for some spanko's. Being 'good' doesn't always get you spanked, and if you're a hard-wired spanko you really do need a pretty steady diet of swats to your backside. With few exceptions I've never &lt;em&gt;intentionally&lt;/em&gt; been bad to earn a spanking, but I've always gone butt-up because of something bad I'd done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No longer true for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Yes, I get spanked now for the times when I've stumbled, but they are 'stumbles' and not 'being bad'. I'm not even allowed to SAY I'm bad now! They're no longer even punishment or discipline spankings... they're consequence spankings! It's actually a concept I'm having a hard time adjusting to! I'm used to going butt-up feeling awful about myself, focusing on how if I'd only been good enough, done better, done 'perfectly', then I wouldn't be being spanked. It put a huge emotional wall around my heart because I felt like I was failing and was trying to protect myself from that feeling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now I get spanked because I'm a good girl who's worthy of being loved, taken care of, and spanked. I get reminded that I'm a good girl who had a brief stumble and that the swats being applied to my backside are just basically a spanko-version of a hand being extended to help me back to my feet. I even have to repeat that I'm a good girl who's worthy during the spanking! And I learned very quickly that saying "I'm being spanked because I'm an idiot who..." only gets me alot of additional stinging swats!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I beat myself up much worse than S ever could or would. I feel guilt deeply and have this concept in my head that if I'm less than perfect that I'm not worthy of anything good in my life. I've gotten more than one spanking for this self-assessment. Actually what I've gotten is 'more' during an already planned spanking for this self-assessment. He realizes that it's a cycle I need to break free from and that's why I have to repeat how I'm worthy and good during the spanking, to kind of drive the message home. Gotta love how my head and ears work soooo much better when my butt is bare, sore and waiting for more!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But the strangest thing has happened now that I'm spanked for being 'good' vs having been 'bad'. I cry. I don't cry from guilt, I don't cry from shame, I don't cry from fear of being 'too much'. I cry because I have people in my life who love me and want me to see myself the way they see me. I cry because I AM worthy of having these people in my life and have come to trust them completely. I cry because I stumbled and emotionally 'skinned my knees' so to speak. And now when I come off those pillows I'm crying because I feel good about myself, I feel not only 'forgiven' but like I'm back standing on my feet again, only now I have these wonderful people and this amazing Sir standing there with me while I get my balance again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think I needed to be spanked to remove the 'bad' from me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Now I know that I get spanked because I'm not bad, I'm good, I'm worthy, I'm loved, and that no matter how many times I stumble I'll still be all those things and I'll never be abandoned.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still try too hard to do everything perfectly, and beat myself up pretty badly when I fail to obtain this unobtainable goal. And I still tend to think I can do things my way vs doing them the way they're intended for me to do. And I'm going to keep working on those things until I get better at them! But one area where I've honestly changed is in how I view myself. I know in my heart now that I'm not a bad person who needs to be 'fixed', I'm a good woman who is worthy of being loved, respected, and protected... even if it's from herself  :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-6141718757077456865?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/6141718757077456865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=6141718757077456865&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6141718757077456865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6141718757077456865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-vs-bad.html' title='Good vs Bad'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8422821295219777780</id><published>2009-06-01T04:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T04:04:04.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What an intersting weekend!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I got to spend part of the day yesterday with C. Gotta love when you get to kidnap a friend and just enjoy spending time in their company! Even though we live in the same town, we live at opposite ends of it, so getting to get together and just hanging out together isn't something that happens nearly often enough. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We didn't do anything 'special' just went and had a long lunch sitting outside at a table and talking. I didn't plan anything for her kidnapping, figured we'd just play it by ear and do what she wanted to do. Real friends are the ones when 'doing nothing special' turns out to be a special day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It would be great if we could live across the street from each other and just sit and chat our way through a cup of coffee in the mornings lol. Then again, the distance does make the time we get to hang out even more special for me. Ok, I'm a greedy woman and still wish most days started out gabbing over a cup of coffee... that I'd let her make btw because I make lousy coffee LOL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;If you're reading this C I hope you enjoyed being kidnapped Sunday as much as I enjoyed kidnapping you :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ ~ ~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I stayed up really late Saturday night and had an important im with another friend. He's more than just a friend, he's someone I 'clicked' with from the first time we talked. The timing of his arriving in my life was amazing, and he quickly became very important to me. He stepped up and became my 'hoh-substitute' when J and I ended, actually before J and I ended. Being around him helped me realize even more clearly what it was that J and I were lacking. He's the man who sent that belt scorching over my backside and who I came out of that experience trusting completely. He's an HOH in his marriage, but he's also a Dom who's not had the chance to explore that side of himself as much as he'd like. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, he now has that chance! I accepted him as 'my Sir' over the weekend. I'll refer to him here as 'S' for 'Sir' because it feels appropriate. It was the strangest 'important' conversation I think I've ever heard of. I was just sitting at home and starting to go into a funk when suddenly my laptop let me know I had an incoming IM. Turned out to be him asking if I was around and if I was ok. Now how can you not completely trust a man who a hundred miles away realizes you need to talk to him?!? We talked about how our friendship has felt right and natural from the very beginning, how we both felt comfortable just being ourselves around each other. Then we acknowledged how very recently there's been 'something' that had been a bit off when we were around each other. Turned out the 'something' was each of us feeling a D/s connection to the other one and not knowing how, or if, to address it. Once it was addressed things just fell into place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The biggest issues for each of us turned out to be not wanting to make the other one uncomfortable and S's wife. She's a beautiful, loving woman who we both would never do anything intentionally to upset. Once S was able to speak to her and she gave her approval to he and I establishing a D/s relationship... well let's just say I'm pretty darn happy LOL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's going to be an interesting adventure to explore my submissive side with a man I trust completely, who's made me release emotional tears before, during or after most spankings from him, who makes me laugh and get the hysterical giggles, who spanks me because I'm worthy of it and not because I'm 'bad', whose friendship and respect mean a lot to me, and whose wife is someone I respect and value as much as I do him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;6 months ago I would never have understood feeling this close to a man who is married to someone else, let alone married to a great friend of mine. She gets most of the credit for this wonderful gift I've been given. If it hadn't been for her friendship and acceptance I don't know where I'd be now, 'if' I'd be now. I've been blessed in my friends and I realize it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8422821295219777780?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8422821295219777780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8422821295219777780&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8422821295219777780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8422821295219777780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-intersting-weekend.html' title='What an intersting weekend!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4086210448164009769</id><published>2009-05-18T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T11:29:24.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Did It!!!!</title><content type='html'>I done some things recently that I never ever thought I'd be able to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;First, I finished an assignment given to me by friends that had me taking an honest and deep look into myself to see my positives. Doing the assignment isn't what I'm proud of though, I'm a smart woman, even I can accomplish something difficult if I'm clear on what the guidelines are. What makes me proud is that while I started this assignment putting forth a bare minimum amount of effort, I finished it by REALLY following it's guidelines. I took a deep and honest look at who I am and acknowledged that yes, I really can be worthy of being loved and respected and not have to accept being treated as anything less than that. It was harder to do than it probably should have been, but I did it as much for myself as I did it to make them proud of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Next came ending the relationship with J. Trust me when I say I'm not saying "I did it" on this issue with any joy in my heart. It makes me incredibly sad. I love him, and I have a feeling I'll always love him. But loving him doesn't mean I have to accept being treated as something less than his equal. Being submissive doesn't mean I'm less than he is as a dominant, it just makes me the counter-balance to his dominance. I gave the relationship with him everything I had to give, where he only gave it what he wanted to give, what was convenient for him to give in the moment. So I'm proud of realizing I deserve better than to be treated the way he was treating me. In the deepest, secret part of my heart, I hope that someday he learns to be able share his heart and contacts me again when that happens. I always saw so much good in him, so much potential for 'us', but you can't respect someone more than they respect you and have it work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The next one is the one that has me sitting here tenderly while I type this. Because it was used abusively on me years ago, I've had a major phobia about belts for decades. Even the sound of one being pulled out of his pants would have me feeling light-headed as if I was going to faint. It was so bad that when I would 'assist' in removing J's pants my hands would shake when I undid the buckle and I'd leave the belt in his pants when I removed them. I thought I'd never trust someone enough to have them use a belt on me. Belts are part of the reason I have trust issues, so this was a major issue on trust and fear for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've found a friend I trust, really trust. His intentions come from nothing but love, mutual respect and friendship. If I didn't think his wife was beyond wonderful, I'd probably wish he was single LOL! Anyway, I've got this friend I find I'm able to trust, really trust. He doesn't expect anything from be other than to be the best me I can be. He doesn't demand respect, he just earns my respect by being himself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The other night he and I were outside trying to avoid being eaten by bugs and talking while having a cigarette. From deep inside myself I realized how much I really trusted this friend, and I told him I was taking my 'off the table' list of things 'off the off the table list'. LOL, you know someone really understands you when they understand what you mean when you say that. I knew I had a spanking coming, so I knew I was opening up the possibility of his using it soon. And he did. Midway through he stopped to change implements, and I heard that sound. You all know that sound, the evil hiss of leather sliding through loops of material as it's removed. My heart clinched and I heard myself screaming in my head that I'd changed my mind. But all I did was put my hand back and ask for him to hold it, to anchor me to a safe place, and he did. He didn't use it hard, but he made sure I did feel it. When he was done using it I was nearly hyperventilating, but knew I'd faced my demon and had come out 'alive'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As the spanking was wrapping up he told me the belt would be used again, as the last implement of the spanking. I'd felt the belt and come out 'alive', but deep in my heart I NEEDED to feel the belt and come out feeling more than 'alive', I needed to feel 'safe', feel that I really, deeply, honestly could trust again. I took a breath and asked that if he was going to use it again, to please use it 'for real' this time. To please use it 'hard' this time. I didn't even hold his hand, I just squeezed the pillow to me while I raised my bottom into proper position and felt the first lash sear into my bottom. I didn't count strokes, I couldn't do more than concentrate in the voice in my head that was saying over and over that I was ok, that I was worthy of being able to trust again, that I wasn't someone who deserved to be beaten and abused...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I felt each lash, I felt the burn, the sting, the pain. I held my breath, and gasped in deep breaths, and then it was done. I'd done it, I'd taken one hell of a belt spanking and was more than alive, I was loved, I was respected... I was safe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Almost 18 hours later my backside is sore and looks it. My friend has definitely learned the weakness I have about being spanked on my sitspots and upper thighs. But as sore as it is I'm equally peaceful inside myself. It's now the middle of the night and I wish I was sleeping, but inside I still keep hearing the voice reminding me that I did it, that I deserved it in the best possible way... and I am good :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4086210448164009769?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4086210448164009769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4086210448164009769&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4086210448164009769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4086210448164009769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-did-it.html' title='I Did It!!!!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8092874674799546447</id><published>2009-05-07T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T16:25:11.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So many changes</title><content type='html'>There are so many things changing in my life now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I've always said I was a 'the glass is half full' kind of person. I now realize that that comment wasn't true, but I thought that if I said it often enough it would become true. When I viewed MY life, the glass wasn't half full, it wasn't even half empty, I viewed my life as a glass that was empty. There was no part of my life that I honestly took pride in, that made me feel good about myself for more than a fleeting moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, there's been one exception to my empty glass in the last few years... my friends. They were the only thing in my glass, and they'll never understand how much I value them for that. Some people say that 'online friends' aren't 'real friends'. That's such bull! There's a couple that I've never been lucky enough to meet who have become one of the most important things in my life. At one point we only lived a few hours apart, and I wish I'd been able to sit down and talk with them back then. But not being able to physically sit and share, whisper and giggle in person, doesn't deminish their value in my life one little bit. Recently I've added another wonderful woman and another couple to my list of things in my glass. I've been blessed enough to be able to spend 'physical' time with these people. These five people mean so much to me, I can't imagine my life without them in it. I met these people online, and yet they've become the best things in my life... don't anyone dare tell me they aren't 'real'!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ ~ ~ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2 of the above mentioned 5 remarkable people are men who have been helping me alot lately. They saw me, really saw &lt;em&gt;ME&lt;/em&gt;, enough to realize I was spiraling into a very dark place and they've pretty much been pulling me out... even if I'm kicking and screaming a bit from time to time. I've not only had them listen and talk, but when things were getting out of control, they yanked me to a stop by giving me an assignment meant to force me to find the good inside myself. Open hearts, good instincts, and a seemingly unending number of impliments have been forcing me to change the way I view the world and my place in it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, their wives have done more than their share to help with this too. These wonderful women have listened to be cry, cuss, and ramble while trying to figure things out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of them are letting me get away with bs'ing my way through life anymore, making me be honest even when it's painful to do so, and being there to help me every single solitary step of the way. They keep telling me how good I'm doing and how brave I'm being. I want to beleive them, but all I honestly beleive is that the credit for any improvement in my outlook is due to them! I still struggle to beleive this is real, that people love me enough to want to help, but I hope someday to make them proud by REALLY beleiving I'm responsible for this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ ~ ~ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The relationship with J is pretty much over. When we got back together this time I made him promise me something... that if I lost my cool, really misbehaved, he'd not go away, not 'abandon me for being less than perfect'. Now I realize how sad it is that I even had to ask for that promise. Sad that I felt I would be abandoned if I wasn't always perfect, and sad that I viewed him as someone who would do that to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I recently lost my cool and talked to him in a non-submissive manner, he hung-up on me. He basically did what he'd promised he wouldn't do. When we talked the next day he was still pissed over it and was sarcastic, mean, vulgar and intentionally hurtful to me. There's no excuse to talk to anyone the way he talked to me that day, and there's especailly no excuse to treat someone you say you love that way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to people who have been treating me with such love and respect, I now see clearly how little love and respect he was treating me with. I also now realize I don't deserve to be treated the way he did, that I was always at risk of being an imposition, 'a bother'. When someone really loves you you should never feel you're bothering them when you just want to say 'hello, I love you'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've told him I feel he's treated me badly, and the things I need from him to even try one more time. I know what his answer will be, but I also know that I can say that I tried, that it was him who wasn't willing to try and do the right thing. If asking to be treated respectfully is asking too much, I'm not really losing anything of value.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ ~ ~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'm still so afraid of so much. Being 'too much', being alone forever, of disappointing the people I respect so much... the list of things I'm afraid of feels never-ending. I hope that someday I'll at least be able to see the end of the list. But maybe being able to admit to being so afraid of so much means that there's hope for me in the long run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~ ~ ~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This blog is still going to be the place I come to about my life, my fears, my goals, and god willing, about how someday a great man is going to come into my life who is worthy of all I so much want to share and give... oh yeah, and it will be about DD and spanking too :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8092874674799546447?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8092874674799546447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8092874674799546447&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8092874674799546447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8092874674799546447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/05/so-many-changes.html' title='So many changes'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-7730560028679366673</id><published>2009-05-02T15:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T15:28:27.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time got away from me :(</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;It's been too long since I've posted here. It's not for a lack of thoughts I'd like to put down, it's almost the opposite. I've had too many things running &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; my head, some I can share here and some I can't share here 'to protect the not so innocent' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;My work schedule has been totally messed up. Yes, working 11pm - 7am isn't my first choice of a shift I'd like to work, but at least I was getting 32-40 hours a week. Through someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; issues, I am suddenly having my hours all over the chart. I've had a couple of weeks recently where I'm only working 16 hours, and one week where I got a whole 32. I can't survive on 16 hour weeks, it won't even pay my bills let alone let me do things like buy groceries. There's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;possibly&lt;/span&gt; a light at the end of the tunnel where I'll be back to at least 32 a week, but honestly I'm not holding my breath. With this economy, even finding another part-time job is turning out to not be an option. I'd really like to lean on J about this, but he's got his own issues going on and I don't want to add to them... that and I'm not sure if he wants to hear it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I leave a week from today to take Mom up North for her 'snowbird' summer. She won't be back until September, and words can't express how much I'm looking forward to having the house to myself. The only thing keeping this from being totally a good thing is that with my work hours being so messed up, not having her here means I don't have anyone else to help with the expenses. To be honest mom pays most of the expenses... but how that makes me feel is the topic for another post when being whiny and full of self-pity won't get me spanked!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Because of things going on in his life, we're not sure if J and I will be able to get to spend any time together when I'm back 'home'. I don't know how I'm going to handle it if we can't get together. I have so many things I want to talk to him about and things I need to hear from him, and doing it on the phone and/or via email won't work for me on this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;It looks like the weekend I come back L &amp;amp; S will be coming down to visit. I can't wait!!! It's so nice to have people who I like and respect and truly enjoying just spending quiet time with. L is a great friend, and S is a man who reminds me way too much of myself when I was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Domme&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! Not that he reminds me of a girl, heavens no!, just that his dominant mindset is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; like mine was back then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I haven't been able to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ahold&lt;/span&gt; of CR on the phone or via email. I know she's struggling with way too many issues, and I just wish she'd let me help. Even is helping is nothing more than offering an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and an house to run away to for an hour or so if needed. I'm worried about her and hope she contacts me soon!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Some friends are trying to help me think more positively about myself. I hadn't realized how negative my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;pov&lt;/span&gt; of myself was until they started trying to help. I'm not sure if it will work, but then again it's already working to a degree because I'm able to acknowledge that they love me. I still wonder why they do from time to time, but I do accept it. Wow, you wouldn't think that would be hard to accept would you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, that kinda catches me up for the moment, I hope I can get back here more often when Mom's up North and I have more privacy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-7730560028679366673?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/7730560028679366673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=7730560028679366673&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7730560028679366673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7730560028679366673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/05/time-got-away-from-me.html' title='Time got away from me :('/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5749589543032287202</id><published>2009-04-05T06:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T06:50:08.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That's just the way it is.... Why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I keep hearing "that's just the way it is" or it's variation "that's just how people are" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; lately. Why do we seem to think that that phrase makes it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to be less than we're capable of being?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I lost a friend and neighbor recently. I found out that he'd died when my phone rang early the next morning. The call was from a neighbor wanting to know the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;details&lt;/span&gt; of how he'd died. I spent the next week barely able to sleep because my phone kept ringing because more neighbors wanted any dirty, nasty detail I might be able to provide them. Now these people know I work nights and sleep during the day, most of them even acknowledged this by apologizing for waking me up right before they asked their questions. And these are people who are now retired doctors, and laywers, and CEO/CFO's... people who dealt with confidentiality in their professional lives for the previous 30 or more years. YES, my friend had a drinking problem. YES, he had a temper that wasn't nice. But, there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to tell these people nasty things about my friend. I didn't even get to mourn him because I was so busy fielding phone calls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I work in a VERY small space, that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; the week is shared by 12 people. If I leave food in the frig for me to have the next night, the odds are about 50/50 that it will be gone the next night. I arrive for my shift to literally find food and trash on the floor. Usually it's ground in because apparently it's easier to step on it than to clean it up when it first falls. Procedure is to arrive 15 minutes before your shift starts, yet all but 2 of my co-workers can be counted on to show up no sooner than 5 minutes before shift start.... often these people will show up 5 minutes late for their shift.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;J and I were apart for a year. He contacted me at the beginning of the year and now we're back together... back together in a long-distance relationship as we now live approximately 1200 miles apart. He doesn't like the phone. He's 'busy' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt;. We've gone from phone and/or email contact 5 - 10 times a day, to a couple of times a week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;And you know what I hear if/when I complain about the above things?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;"Well, people knew X was a drinker, of course they want to know if he was drunk when he died. That's just the way people are."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;"Well, they see food and think it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; for them to eat it. That's just the way Y is."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;"They don't clean up behind themselves because they know you'll do it. That's just what people do."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;"We're back together now, what is there to talk about?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Maybe I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;naive&lt;/span&gt;, maybe I'm a freak of nature. But I don't think poor behavior, rudeness, a basic lack of consideration for others is something we should just accept because "it's what everyone is doing". Aren't I a part of that collective 'everyone'? I know I'm sure as hell not doing what they do. I won't be a part of the chain where it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to be less than decent because the person I just interacted with was that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Why is it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to just accept that that's the way it is... that's the way people are... if it's just simply wrong???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5749589543032287202?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5749589543032287202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5749589543032287202&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5749589543032287202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5749589543032287202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/04/thats-just-way-it-is-why.html' title='That&apos;s just the way it is.... Why?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8000122142644163516</id><published>2009-03-30T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T17:39:33.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hearing things in my head</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;When J and I started talking again, of course the subject of how he ended us a year before came up. Being blindsided is never nice, and I felt I was owed an explaination. I hear "I'm sorry it hurt you", "I wish I'd been able to handle it differently", basically what I wasn't hearing was those 3 little words... I AM SORRY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;His explaination was that basically it was like when the US dropped the bombs on Japan in WWII. It was a painful decission for the US to make, and of course Japan was devistated, but it had to be done under the current circumstances at that time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Let me be very very VERY clear here... that while I'm sure that makes perfect 'man logic' sense, I absolutely despise that explaination for what he did. But I can't change his pov on this, so while I don't like it one iota, I'm living with it for now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;When I heard his 'explaination' I thought back to how he'd been acting the couple of weeks between when we made the decission for me to move here and the time when he 'dropped the bomb'. There WERE signs I was seeing, I just didn't know what they meant at the time. I thought his 'strange' attitude was just his way of expressing have as hard a time with my moving away as I was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;What his analogy has provided me with is one of my own. Now when I'm feeling insecure, wondering what it is he's feeling... did he have as good a time together as I did... does he miss me... is he feeling as lonely as I am... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Am I being silly and overthinking things, or am I hearing 'air raid sirens'? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Today I told him I was worried I'd been hearing those sirens for the last couple of days. We haven't been able to communicate very much because he's been very busy with both work and 'real life'. Ok, great, that makes sense. There are plenty of times when I'm too busy to make a call, let alone come online and send an email. And he DID send an email saying he's really busy and would call as soon as he could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;But a year ago I was a 'bomb victim', and now I'm worried about not hearing those air raid sirens if they're going off again. I hear each 'bump in the night' as a possible siren. I'm hearing them when they're not going off, when they've apparently been disabled. He seemed surprised that I was worried I was hearing them again. Why does he get to be surprised? Is it really suprising that after surviving a bomb attack I'm going to have a bit of anxiety about possibly having it happen again?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Part of me feels like I'm being paranoid, that he's happy, he's not even thinking about dong it again, so I need to stop worrying about it. But part of me is upset that he doesn't truly appreciate the damage the first bomb caused and that he needs to help me feel very sure that it won't happen again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Only time and attention will stop the sirens from echo'ing in my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8000122142644163516?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8000122142644163516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8000122142644163516&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8000122142644163516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8000122142644163516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/hearing-things-in-my-head.html' title='Hearing things in my head'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-6418431335758429111</id><published>2009-03-25T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T14:35:07.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>100+ things about me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I was talking to a friend and we came up with the challenge to list 100 things about ourselves. This was harder than I thought it would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! I found myself admitting to things that are kinda &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt;, but are still true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Anyone who wants to try this but doesn't have a blog, you can email your list to me and I'll post it for you.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;100+ THINGS ABOUT ME&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m tall for a woman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m single&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I sleep better when I don’t sleep alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I cuss too much for my own comfort level&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t take good care of myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m multi-orgasmic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Typo’s and grammatical errors make it almost impossible for me to enjoy when I’m trying to read something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I get embarrassed that sometimes I want anal sex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’d like to lose 30 pounds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I am my most peaceful when I’m the most submissive&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I eat way too much junk food&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have a phobia about being spanked with a belt thanks to my ex-husband&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I give don’t give &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;blowjobs&lt;/span&gt;, I worship it&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I could go to college for a career&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I get shy sometimes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I think I’m fat&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have no patience with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;racist&lt;/span&gt; people&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have long fingernails&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I would rather read than talk to most people&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I hold things inside that I wish I was brave enough to say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;outloud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I value my friends&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have never experienced, but am fascinated by, the cane&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; never been spanked to my full limits&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I had a better backside&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I hate my tummy, but love my breasts&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t want to become a ‘needy’ submissive&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I could afford corrective eye surgery&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have friends who bring out my dominant side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m insecure&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I like sitting on the floor on my pillow by his knees&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;My greatest dream is to be happily married&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t feel comfortable when he goes down on me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t like vanilla sex&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I am bored silly at my job, but still grateful for having it&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I am a tactile person&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have a lousy temper&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I watch way too much &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; and movies&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m frustrated that the forum I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;’t busier&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I love having a tan, but hate laying out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m easily bored&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I hide my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;intelligence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish he would be stricter, give me more structure&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wear dark nail polish to seem braver than I am&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have short hair, but wish it was really long&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I am an animal lover&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I was shorter&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t like wearing glasses&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I use sex to get out of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; situations&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I hated high school&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’d rather walk down the beach talking and holding hands than go out to dinner&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish my new friends lived close enough to drop-in on for coffee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I get a tingle when he gets that tone with me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I find watching porn a turn-off&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have a hard time speaking up for myself&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I hate veggies&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I won’t eat in a restaurant by myself&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I had a ‘real’ job that kept me busy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t tend to try new foods for fear I won’t like them&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have 2 kids&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have 4 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;tattoo&lt;/span&gt;’s&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;My dog is so spoiled because I’m lonely&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I only wear gold &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;jewelery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I love gardening&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; never had a birthday spanking&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I spent 3 years living with a woman, but much prefer men&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have fantasies about being owned by two men&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I drink approximately a 12 pack of Diet Coke a day&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I give great advice, but rarely follow it myself&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have a green thumb&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; left home and forgotten to put my shoes on&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; never been on a cruise&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I want to exercise, but can’t find the energy to do it&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I buy myself gifts because he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;doesn&lt;/span&gt;’t &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I love it when he grabs my hair &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m a grandma&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m spiritual but not religious&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I flirt with men who make me nervous&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I smoke cigarettes&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I have a hard time giving up control to other people&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t drink &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;alcohol&lt;/span&gt; often, but when I do I have a hard time stopping&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I only shop for bargains&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; never owned a new car&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I must have houseplants in my home&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I value my private time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I love talking on the phone&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I’d had a child with J&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I love high heels as much as being barefoot&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don’t like people who are always cranky&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’d like to win the lotto just to have enough money to make my own decisions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’d like to learn to snorkel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’d rather do something myself so that I know it’s done right&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I own over 50 pairs of shoes&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I like short skirts, but wear long ones&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m envious of most of my friends&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I wish I lived here on my own&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I shop out of stress or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;boredom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I prefer country over modern&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I believe old-fashioned values are a good thing&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I’m a romantic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I think I’m in love again &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I chose great friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I'm learning to like myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-6418431335758429111?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/6418431335758429111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=6418431335758429111&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6418431335758429111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6418431335758429111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/100-things-about-me.html' title='100+ things about me'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-1028910847381750055</id><published>2009-03-25T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T16:48:04.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I saw this on Hermione's Heart and am 'borrowing' it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;1. What curse word do you use the most? - Usually f***, but I wish I could break the habit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;2. Do you own an ipod? - No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;3. What person on your friends-list do you talk to the most? – it’s a tie between Kaytee, Jen and Cathy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;4. What time is your alarm clock set to? – 8pm… I work 3rd shift and don’t want to oversleep from a nap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;5. Do you still remember the first person you kissed? – Oh yeah, Henry Gendra at the Skatery!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;6. Do you remember where you were on September 11th, 2001? - I was at work. I alternated between watching live coverage on my computer and watching the tv in the dayroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;7. Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture? - Take it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;8. What was the last movie you watched? – I have Netflix, I watch too many movies to remember the last one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;9. Do any of your friends have children? - Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;10. Has anyone ever called you lazy? – yeah, but my mom shouldn’t count&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;11. Do you ever take medication to help you fall asleep? – only when I haven’t got any other choice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;12. What CD is currently in your CD player? – Meat Loaf – Bat Out Of Hell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;13. Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? – Regular Skim Milk… sometimes I’ll do a large glass of chocolate milk as a snack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;14. Has anyone told you a secret this week? – I outed one on the forum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;15. When was the last time you had Starbucks? – NEVER. I have an issue with a $8 cup of coffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;16. Can you whistle? - Sort of, but I don't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;17. What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? – Height and hand size&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;18. What are you looking forward to? – going north in May and seeing my best friend&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;19. Did you watch cartoons as a child? - Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;20. Do you own any band t-shirts? – No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;21. What will you be doing in one hour? – Fixing my ‘lunch’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;22. Is anyone in love with you? – He says he is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;23. What was the last song you heard? – Thin Lizzy – The Boys Are Back In Town&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;24. Last time you cried? – Saturday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;25. Desktop computer or a laptop? – Laptop &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;26. Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? – Yes, just one more tatoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;27. What's the weather like? – Partly cloudy and 80F&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;28. Would you ever date a girl/guy covered in tattoos? – Covered in? No. Don’t mind if he has some, just not covered in them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;29. What did you do before this? – Checked Spanking Tube for new video’s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;30. When is the last time you slept on the floor? – The night before I moved here… I’d sold all my furniture&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;31. How many hours of sleep do you need to function? – I seem to be able to function on less than 4, but 8 would be great!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;32. Do you eat breakfast daily? – Almost never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;33. Are your days fast-paced? – No, they’re too quiet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;34. What did you do last night? – Napped before work, showered, dressed, watched tv, went to work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;35. Do you use sarcasm? – I believe you should always go with your strengths LOL!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;36. How old will you be turning on your next birthday? - 47&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;37. Are you picky about spelling and grammar? – YES!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;38. Have you ever been to Six Flags? – yes, years ago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;39. Do you get along better with the same sex or the opposite sex? - Both equally. It really depends on the individual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;40. Do you like mustard? – Yes, brown is better than yellow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;41. Do you sleep on your side? - Yes, with a pillow between my knees to keep my back from being hurt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;42. Do you watch the news? – Politics, yes. News, no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;43. How did you get one of your scars? – I got bit by a LOT of fire ants last summer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;44. Who was the last person to make you mad? – My supervisor at work when he called and woke me up at 11 this morning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-1028910847381750055?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/1028910847381750055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=1028910847381750055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1028910847381750055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1028910847381750055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/meme.html' title='Meme'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5198078247990195590</id><published>2009-03-24T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T08:24:18.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm happy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Being 'single' has been hard. Yeah, I miss the sex, but that's not the main thing I've been missing. I missed being a part of an 'us', having someone to share my submissive side with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I struggled because J was the only man I'd ever been submissive to, and without that relationship I stuffed that side of myself down deep inside. It was painful to do, but less painful than the ripping pain of having this side of myself out and available and no one to share it with. Stuffing it inside was a constant ache, but so much less painful than feeling like I'd lost a limb. And in alot of ways I did lose a limb, the part of me that IS submissive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;This post sounds rather depressing, especially for one titled I'm happy LOL! The reason I'm happy is because J and I are back together. I've promised him I won't go into great detail about him here for now, but I can't talk about my life without talking about the fact that he's back in it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;We started talking via email again in January and then on the phone. It was NOT the easiest thing I've ever done! I'd gotten used to the ache, my brain had started to not even recognize it more than 10 or 20 times a day. Talking to him again meant the possiblilty of opening up that side of myself again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;From the beginning I was different this time though. Before I would say 'yes sir' to keep the peace. It was something I said as often out of respect for him as I did out of being afraid to rock the boat. I was sure that if I rocked the boat too much that we'd 'sink'. Well, I'd already sunk and while the swim was hard to do, I'd finally made it to shore. Talking to him meant going back out into the water and I honestly wasn't sure if I was up to even dogpaddling again, let alone climbing back onto the boat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;It took weeks before the word 'sir' came out of me again. I felt it for a bit before I let it come back out... this time he had to earn it! I don't like how that sounds, but I was determined to not make this too easy for him this time. He'd broken my heart, and I was determined to make sure he was really really really wanting me back again before I gave into my own desires.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I'd like to say that this was a good thing. In some ways it was a good thing, it created more conversation and I have felt more 'heard' this time around. But it also caused me alot of internal confusion and conflict. There's just something about J that clicks in me, and I was intentionally fighting my own desires. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Basically it comes down to the fact that I wanted 'us' again so much that I was afraid to go for it. I now knew how much losing it would hurt, and I didn't want to ever put myself in a position to feel that much pain again... I was being very cautious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Well, this past weekend J was here. I was a massive bundle of nerves, with mood swings that made PMS look like a day at the park. When I saw his car come around the corner my heart started to slam and my palms actually started to get damp. Then he came through the door and I felt rooted to the floor, totally clueless as to what to do. Somehow we met in the middle, I don't remember who took the first step. But I do know that when his arms closed around me I felt the same tension in him that was in me. Then the most amazing thing happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;It felt 'right'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;The tension drained from me, my throat got tight, and I felt myself starting to cry. All the fears I'd obsessed over about how each moment had the potential to go wrong... it just all went away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Out of respect for his wishes I won't go into details about the visit. I don't think he'd mind my saying that the sex was fantastic, the cuddling was wonderful, hearing him get that tone when I didn't listen made me tingle, and just being able to touch him again made me feel so peaceful. I'm glad to be back to being part of 'us' again. I feel complete. I feel happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5198078247990195590?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5198078247990195590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5198078247990195590&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5198078247990195590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5198078247990195590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-happy.html' title='I&apos;m happy!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-3899819962375633234</id><published>2009-03-19T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T14:39:15.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You know you're a spanko when...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Lately I seem to be seeing lifestyle reminders everywhere!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;There was the day I was driving by the pizza shop and read the sign that says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NOW SERVING SUBS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;and all I can think is it's' about time and I need someone to 'serve' me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;That same day I am sitting at a red light and see the sign on the van beside me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LET DOM HANDLE IT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;this time was for 'Dominic's handyman service', but that's not where my brain went!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;While out of town with friends at the beach I see this couple come out of a restraurant. He puts his arm around her shoulder and she puts hers around his waist. They look so 'cute', she's got her head tilted up saying something to him and he's got his tilted slightly listening to what she's saying. I'm thinking how cute and romantic they look, and how I wished I was them at that moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Then, I don't know what she had been saying to him, but his arm came off her shoulders and his hand CRACKED her in the middle of her butt so hard I could hear it over the thousands of people, the ocean, and being about 20 feet away! He hooked his thumb into her left pocket and kept 'patting' her tush! Meanwhile she'd come up onto her toes and is now desparetly putting her right hand back trying to block those pats and get his thumb out of her pocket.... and I REALLY wished I was them at that moment LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;That same day we're all getting a bit hot in the sun and go looking for the 'kiddie area' for the friends kids to play in and some shade for the grown-ups. There's a bizillion signs along the boardwalk, it seemed like each store had at least 3 signs trying to lure you into them vs the one next door. But my eyes immediately went to and focused on this one...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315014255575579810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/ScK5Tie4PKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/sEjpqtcavbk/s400/Pro+shop+Hollywood+03-09+meeting+Danielle.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Now, of course they're selling RACKETBALL paddles, but that's not where my brain went!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;And, now there's what happened today....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I went to the grocery store across the street a while ago to get milk. While I was there I ran into someone I knew and 'wandered' the store with him. Of course this meant I bought more than the 2 gallons of milk I went into the store to buy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;One of the store managers also lives in the neighborhood where I do, and the 3 of us ended up wandering together thru the store. When we were done shopping we headed towards the checkout isles. My friend checked out first (he had more stuff than I did lol). The conversation went like this: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Manager: "Where are your canvas bags?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Me: "Oh crap! I forgot them in the car!". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Manager: "Do I need to spank you to get you to remember them?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Me: "Well, somebody should!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Register guy: "Do I need to go someplace else for a minute?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm cracking up and so is the manager. The 'friend' I was with looked completely lost and unsure what to say! It seems like I'm apparently oozing my spanko-pharamones again! I'm not only seeing swats and signs, but now I'm being threatened WEG!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My next post will be about how I'll be getting spanked in just a few more days :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-3899819962375633234?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/3899819962375633234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=3899819962375633234&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3899819962375633234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3899819962375633234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-know-youre-spanko-when.html' title='You know you&apos;re a spanko when...'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/ScK5Tie4PKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/sEjpqtcavbk/s72-c/Pro+shop+Hollywood+03-09+meeting+Danielle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8121599058772977321</id><published>2009-03-04T13:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T13:53:45.062-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Obvious?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Why is it that something that seems so obvious to me seems so difficult to understand for others???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Lately, I've been thinking about the differences between what makes a 'truly dominant man', a 'bully', and a 'partner in the lifestyle'. Now to me these are obvious, they're just so different how could anyone confuse them????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;A truly dominant man is just a man who doesn't have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wimpy&lt;/span&gt; bone in his body. His brain just functions in a dominant mode. He sees his role in life to be that of leader, not follower. He takes the needs and feelings of other people into consideration, and he makes what he thinks is the right &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;decision&lt;/span&gt; for everyone in the long run. He sets expectations based on what he wants, but does them in a way that is respectful. He sets deadlines that while not necessarily easy, are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;achievable&lt;/span&gt;, he wants you to succeed because it doesn't just make him look good, it makes you look good too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;A bully is a man who sees himself as dominant but doesn't take into consideration the feelings / thoughts / concerns of the other people in his universe. He's that boss who makes stupid deadlines just to be able to yell at you when you don't met them. He's that 'DOM' who talks to you like you're just some lesser being... a submissive... SHUDDER! He sees his power coming from what he can 'make' you do, not what you do out of respect for him. He shuts up long enough to allow you to talk, but then ignores everything you just said and does things his way... all the while saying "but didn't I listen to you? Now I'm the Dom / &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;HOH&lt;/span&gt; and that means we do things my way".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;A partner is this amazing man. He's as naturally dominant as you are naturally submissive. He encourages you to grow and discover yourself while reaping the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;benefits&lt;/span&gt;. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; enjoys getting his own way, but 'winning' isn't his goal in life... he doesn't measure his dominance by how often he wins. He's got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ability&lt;/span&gt; to laugh one minute, then give you 'the look' the next if you take it too far. He doesn't hold you close at night simply to have easier access.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; is full of bullies who call themselves Dom's. They're not hard to recognize when you talk to them. They want to be addressed as Sir or Master because they view it as their right, not as a title of respect that they should earn from you. They talk to you as if you're just some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;interchangeable&lt;/span&gt; 'sub', not as a person with her own thoughts and feelings and wants from the lifestyle. They expect you to conform to their view of the lifestyle without consideration of what it is you're wanting to get from it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;There's a very fine line between dominant man and bully, it's a line of respect and consideration. I really wish these men who view themselves as Dom's would stop and see which side of that line we read them as being on :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8121599058772977321?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8121599058772977321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8121599058772977321&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8121599058772977321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8121599058772977321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/obvious.html' title='Obvious?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-319031926599676950</id><published>2009-03-02T15:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T15:52:02.808-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marching ever closer to Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt; is smarter than even I gave him credit for!! After he'd unzipped his crate the other day, I thought long and hard about how to keep him in. I decided to put one of those clips for your keys into the two zipper tags, figuring if he got it open at all, this would at least keep him from being able to open it more than half an inch... WRONG! I guess when he figured out he couldn't force it open any further he decided on a new way to get free. Would you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; it? He ATE THE ZIPPER! Chewed himself up a section of the zipper just big enough for him to squeeze out of! Part of me wanted to praise him for being so smart, part of me wanted to scold him for destroying the crate, but in the end I just ended up spending $80 I didn't want to spend on a wire crate :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;* * * * *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;It's so strange to think of Spring approaching when the average temp down here is in the mid to upper 70's in the Winter! Yes it's been kinda cool down here this Winter, but I'm not going to complain when it's more like Spring than Summer for a couple of days &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! Then I talk to friends up North and hear how cold it is for them. Watching the news is eyeopening when I see all this white stuff on the ground. With everything so green here it's hard to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; it's still so gross up North... nope, don't miss the North a bit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;* * * * * &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I've got something I want to blog about, but I promised someone I wouldn't. It's driving me nuts not to talk about it here. Hopefully I'll get the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to post about it soon!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;* * * * *&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;There's a story on the NBC Nightly News right now about the health issues for people working the night shift. Is there really anyone who doesn't know staying up at night when you're body is designed to be asleep isn't all that great for your health??? What they're not talking about is how it can be dangerous for your backside!!! When you're tired, feeling constantly sleep deprived, and feel like you're missing out on the best part of the day because you're asleep during it... well, I'll just say I tend to say things I didn't intend to say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;outloud&lt;/span&gt; and in a tone I didn't intend to express. Please note I didn't say I didn't mean the tone and words, only that I didn't intend to have them come out of my mouth. Working the night shift is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; like being sick for me... my 'filters' don't work very well when I'm tired for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;upteenth&lt;/span&gt; day in a row :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;, wonder if I can get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;outa&lt;/span&gt; a future spanking by saying it's not my fault... I'm sleep deprived! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;WEG&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-319031926599676950?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/319031926599676950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=319031926599676950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/319031926599676950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/319031926599676950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/03/marching-ever-closer-to-spring.html' title='Marching ever closer to Spring'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8804485301913062185</id><published>2009-02-26T18:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T18:13:34.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;it's just another day in Paradise :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;It's been 2 full days of just me and the dogs in the house... what can I say I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lovin&lt;/span&gt;' it!!! I've been able to come online whenever I want, I even moved the laptop out onto the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lanai&lt;/span&gt; so I don't have to go into my bedroom to check email or visit my websites! It's liberating to be able to go to the forum and not have to 'hide' every few minutes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;My personal life is picking up. Looks like there may be an end to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;chronic&lt;/span&gt; case of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;WTS&lt;/span&gt; I've been suffering from, and being able to have sex again wouldn't be a bad thing! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;LOLOLOL&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I'm going to state for the record, lies of omission are still lies! and if you have something to tell someone that you think will keep them from wanting to be back with you, tell them up front, don't wait till they're falling for you again!!! Right now I'm so angry over someone doing this to me that I can't even send them an email telling them how I feel, let alone talk to them on the phone! It's simply not right to hold back IMPORTANT details because you're afraid to risk being rejected.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, back to my happy place &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt; has had to stay at home instead of going to work with me because mom's dog doesn't do well at my work. The first night he shredded up the 'piddle pad' I'd put down just in case they needed it. So last night I put him into his 'soft crate'. It's from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;WalMart&lt;/span&gt; and it pops-up and has net sides and a net front flap/door that zips closed. What can I say, I have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;brilliant&lt;/span&gt; dog! I came home this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;morning&lt;/span&gt; to find him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;waiting&lt;/span&gt; for me at the door instead of in his crate! He'd unzipped it!!!! Guess he had enough time on his hands to figure out how to get free &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I'm going to Ft &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Lauderdale&lt;/span&gt; in 3 weeks to meet a woman I've been wanting to meet for years! She's an 'online friend' who I really enjoy reading and talking to. The night before we go a couple of us girls are having a slumber party at my house. It's so great when you can turn 'online friends' into real women who come over and hang-out and travel with you! The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; CAN be a dangerous place, but it's also full of real people who make the greatest friends :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, time to go get changed for work... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8804485301913062185?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8804485301913062185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8804485301913062185&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8804485301913062185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8804485301913062185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-another-day.html' title='Just another day'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-2026252066606921289</id><published>2009-02-24T03:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T03:37:00.045-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5 week semi-vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Put Mom on a plane this morning!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;YIPPIE&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I don't want it to sound like she's a terrible person, she's not. It's just that we see the world so very differently and we wear at each other. I know I'm becoming someone who reacts in ways I'm not proud of, so it's not all her. I'm just really looking forward to this next 5 weeks because it gives me a chance to find myself again and hopefully lose the edge I've been developing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;One of the things I really want to do in the next 5 weeks is embrace ME again. Last night was an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;epiphany&lt;/span&gt; night for me. I over-reacted to an email, then was surprised when I felt guilty for how I'd reacted to it. I did something I wouldn't have done lately and apologized, sincerely and honestly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;Talking on the phone with a wonderful person later that evening I realized I AM a submissive woman and that it's not something I have to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; by, or try to justify to myself. It's not about making a choice between what I 'think' I should be and what I 'want' to be... I just need to be who I am and embrace that side of myself. Sure, there are things to be worked out, and that's normal. Nothing is perfect, but I need to do what it is that makes me feel perfectly right in my own head and heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000066;"&gt;I am who I am, and by God that's nothing to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; about :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-2026252066606921289?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/2026252066606921289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=2026252066606921289&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/2026252066606921289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/2026252066606921289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/02/5-week-semi-vacation.html' title='5 week semi-vacation'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-7243478433001720653</id><published>2009-02-22T10:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T10:35:08.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Death by 'vanilla'?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Is it possible to die from a lack of sex and 'lifestyle'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm starting to think that if that can't kill you, frustration surely can! :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-7243478433001720653?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/7243478433001720653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=7243478433001720653&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7243478433001720653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7243478433001720653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/02/death-by-vanilla.html' title='Death by &apos;vanilla&apos;?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-7793199977606479075</id><published>2009-02-18T11:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T11:40:56.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;There's just so much going on right now. I feel like I'm suddenly facing a point in life where I have to decide who I really am inside and what are the things that matter the most to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Which is more important, having someone in my life who understand my thoughts and feelings on DD and D/s and who I can share this lifestyle with, or having someone who meets my 'vanilla' needs; who's romantic and makes me feel adored? Does it have to be one or the other? I just don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;The only thing I do know is that I couldn't be truly happy living my life vanilla. It's just not possible for me to live a full life without the structure that DD D/s offers for me. I'm just wired the way I'm wired and I accept this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;But then I hear this little voice whispering into my ear asking could I be truly happy without someone to hold my hand walking down the beach, someone who wants to take me to dinner, someone who just simply wants to be with me even with no 'lifestyle' issues involved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Damn, I want both. I want the hearts and flowers tied up with rules and paddles... I think I'm about to have it all... and it scares me that I could be wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Maybe I'm just over-tired and rambling, over-thinking things again...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-7793199977606479075?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/7793199977606479075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=7793199977606479075&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7793199977606479075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7793199977606479075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/02/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8176134692193797466</id><published>2009-02-15T09:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T09:42:48.232-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy week</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;It's been a very long week here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;It started with Mom having a dr's appointment, which led to a trip to the hospital the next day for a heart cath, which led to 2 stints being put into the vessels around her heart, which led to her staying overnight in the hospital, which meant I had to call off work for 2 nights, which lead to problems finding people to cover my shift, which led to me getting very tired and irritated with nearly everyone. It's capped off with Mom feeling more herself and being bored with her exercise restrictions, and doing way to good a job with the 'do for me cause I'm restricted' stuff.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Actually one good thing may have come out of this past week, aside from her improved health which of course is a great thing, but we went to dinner Tuesday night and had an important conversation. I THINK I finally got thru to her about how her 'half empty' comments are effecting me... so things may finally be getting better in that area!!! She's says I'm a bitch to live with, which may be true lately, but I think I got her to understand that alot of the bitchiness is coming from her half-empty viewpoint. We're both working on it, so hopefully things will get better soon!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;One of the best things to come out of the past week is she's now healthy enough to fly out West like she had scheduled. She leaves in a little over a week, and I was thinking she was gone for 4 weeks, when actually she'll be gone for 5 weeks!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;YIPPIE!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;She's going to get to go enjoy herself visiting family and I can relax, breath, watch bad tv and come online with complete privacy LOL!!!! Now, if only I had some company during that time it would be even better WEG!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;So a busy week, but a productive one... life could always be better, but for the moment it's good :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8176134692193797466?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8176134692193797466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8176134692193797466&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8176134692193797466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8176134692193797466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/02/busy-week.html' title='Busy week'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8891240114904223320</id><published>2009-02-02T15:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T16:00:53.258-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Half Full or Half Empty?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Some people see the glass as being half full, then others see it as being half empty... I'm trying so hard to be a Half Full person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Life is hard, I'll be honest, sometimes it's just plain awful. But what's the alternative?? I get up each day and hope today will be at least a bit better than yesterday. I'd love for it to be a wonderful day, but I can live with 'better'. It's the only way I know how to get out of bed each day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Gee, it's raining in SW Florida today, but the grass needs it and think of how the flowers will bloom next week! That's me. Not: Crap, it's raining and I'm stuck inside today. Yeah, I AM stuck inside today due to rain and wind, but if that's all I focus on why aren't I just getting back into bed and pulling the covers over my head?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;When I'm faced with taking an emotional risk, I give &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of thought to it, but if I decide to go for it I go for it all the way and do my best to make it work. If all I focused on is what could go wrong, that I could be hurt, I wouldn't try at all and I'd have missed out on some great things/people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm struggling more than I ever thought possible to view my living where I do as a 'half full' situation. The problem for me is I live with someone who not only sees the glass as half empty, but dirty too. I often feel like I'm being bombarded by negative viewpoints. If she yells my name, it's assumed I'm being a bitch and ignoring her vs the fact that I never heard her in the first place. Trust me, I answer when she calls for me because I don't want to deal with the attitude I get otherwise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Today I was asked to help her pull her tax paperwork out and get it ready. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so I was on here doing something I wanted/needed to do, but I put that aside and went to help. (Is is 'help' when you feel forced?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I went in and pulled out the bottom drawer and asked what was in it. Got an answer while she closed the drawer. Pulled open the next drawer up, asked what was in it. Got told that was medical receipts and it slammed shut. At that point I got up and left the room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Next thing I know she's complaining how all she did was 'ask for some help' and I 'walked out and left it all to her to do'. HUH??? 4 drawer cabinet, I asked about 2 drawers and nearly lost a finger in the 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; one... why would I want to 'help' at this point?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Soooo&lt;/span&gt;, I come back and ask what she wants me to do. I'm ignored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Sit there and ask again what she would like me to do. I get asked what something is that she found on the desk. I say it's a flier reminding her to schedule her tax prep appointment, and she can throw it away since she's already made the appointment. I get ignored while she reads the thing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;outloud&lt;/span&gt; to me. Uh huh, guess what? It IS the reminder to call and it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to throw it away. IMAGINE THAT!!! My saying that's what it was apparently didn't mean anything since she had to read it herself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;At this point I'm biting my tongue and wishing I'd gotten in my car and left home about an hour ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I open the 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; drawer down and ask what's in it. I got told 'the papers I need for my taxes'. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, great, we're in the right drawer!! Only problem is that the file folders are EMPTY! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ummm&lt;/span&gt;, where are the papers that were in here? She points out old grocery bags on the floor and says that they're in there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Now at this point I'm wondering what she wanted my 'help' with since she's already pulled these papers out. Silly me asked the question :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Next thing I know she walks out of the room and starts choking up about how all she did was ask for some help and all I'm wanting to do is do things 'my way'. HUH??? Asking 3 questions is doing things my way??? MY WAY would have been to stay online and do what I was doing when she asked for 'help' in the first place!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;She starts screaming at me that I'm a bitch and ungrateful and bossy and other words I can't remember. Not proud of it, but I'd had enough. I screamed right back and said no one screamed at me and said those things to me. That I was an adult and if she wanted to act like a cranky child to let me know when she grew up and I'd come back to 'help'. Went into my room and got back online.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;She'd had the handyman over today to do some work for and we were expecting him back to be paid. About 5 minutes after the blow-up I hear a knock at the door. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Btw&lt;/span&gt;, her 'office' is halfway &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; the house, whereas my room is in the back of the house. So I know that if I heard the knocking she should have heard it too. But I'm giving the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;benefit&lt;/span&gt; of the doubt that she didn't hear it and said "'Bob' is here, he's knocking at the front door". Next thing I know she's screams out that I'm a bitch who won't even get off my lazy ass to answer the door. HUH?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, all this is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt; enough to live with, but when she gets up and answers the door she tells 'Bob' that she hadn't heard him knocking but that I had and I'm a bitch who won't answer the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Situations like this (minus the screaming) happen here about once a week. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm trying to see the glass as half full: at least I'm out of the snow. She's having health issues so at least I'm here to help her with appointments.... lately that's as much as I can think of to put into my glass. And it's pushing it to call that half full.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm not miserable. I just hate living with someone who pouts like a child, says things that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;embarrass&lt;/span&gt; the sin out of me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;infront&lt;/span&gt; of other people, answers the phone when the caller id says it's for me and doesn't give me phone messages, and finds the world in general as a sad and nasty place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The glass IS half full... and I'm going to keep saying it till I can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; it again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8891240114904223320?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8891240114904223320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8891240114904223320&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8891240114904223320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8891240114904223320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/02/half-full-or-half-empty.html' title='Half Full or Half Empty?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8397401913342816704</id><published>2009-01-28T14:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T14:55:40.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The absolute JOY of having your own wheels!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Please go out and hug your car! LOL!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;You don't realize how much you rely on it until it's no longer available. Last June the transmission in the van decided it was just too tired to work anymore and I've been without 'my very own' car ever since. I've had access to cars, but it's just not the same as it being 'mine'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;2 weeks ago I got new wheels!!! Well new to me anyhow. It's a '96 Lincoln Contentional and has alot of luxury items in it. What it doesn't have are cup holders! Can you imagine a car with no built-in cup holders? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296482034590683106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SYDiWTcED-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/VynrwbLDRxo/s400/DSCF0001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8397401913342816704?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8397401913342816704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8397401913342816704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8397401913342816704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8397401913342816704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/01/absolute-joy-of-having-your-own-wheels.html' title='The absolute JOY of having your own wheels!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SYDiWTcED-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/VynrwbLDRxo/s72-c/DSCF0001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-6327751687667513427</id><published>2009-01-20T10:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T10:30:52.495-08:00</updated><title type='text'>January 20, 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SXYW4jvCmWI/AAAAAAAAAEY/y631OZpYH88/s1600-h/ss-010920-inaug-tease3_thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Today I feel hopeful about my country again...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293445041915009154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SXYYOEFlmII/AAAAAAAAAEg/TtUx4RLdTY0/s400/art_obama_speech_cnn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;I don't expect him to cure everything, I realize it took a long time to get to this point and will take time to get to a better place. But finally I feel hopeful that leading my country is someone who understands what it's like to LIVE here, not just govern.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-6327751687667513427?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/6327751687667513427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=6327751687667513427&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6327751687667513427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6327751687667513427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/01/january-20-2009.html' title='January 20, 2009'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SXYYOEFlmII/AAAAAAAAAEg/TtUx4RLdTY0/s72-c/art_obama_speech_cnn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8657933107440671056</id><published>2009-01-18T21:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T21:18:39.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to 2009 ?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Since I'm starting to write this at midnight, I guess we're now 19 days into the new year. So far I don't know how I'm feeling about 2009. Things have been happening, and then again some things haven't been happening...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I've had the house to myself for the last 10 days, well if you don't include having the two dogs that is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;! It's been great not having to answer to anyone, being able to watch whatever I want on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, eating what I want when I want. I don't miss Mom one little bit to tell the truth. I'm now looking even more forward to March when she's gone all month, let alone her being up North for the entire Summer!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The one thing I wasn't looking forward to this Summer was not having her car available, but I cured that problem earlier this week. I'm now the owner of a 1996 Lincoln &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Contentional&lt;/span&gt;. No, it's not the sweet little sporty car I'd love to have, but it's affordable, the payments are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;handable&lt;/span&gt;, and it does have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of bells and whistles! Amazingly enough what it doesn't seem to have are cup holders!! How in the heck did Lincoln make a car with no cup holders?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I did get the opportunity to get together with new friends and old friends. I spent the day at the beach with a wonderful friend and really enjoyed our time together. I think that's the defination of a wonderful friend... you don't have to do anything 'special' to enjoy being in that persons company. The new friends were great to meet!!! She's as wonderful in person as she is on the phone and forum, and meeting her husband made me really miss having someone special in my life. Seeing the two of them together was hard sometimes, while I was happy for them, it made me kinda sad for me. Seeing the 'old' friends was a hoot. We don't get to see each other nearly often enough, yet we know each other in ways most people don't know us. It's great to have a friend who knows your history so well because she was there when it was 'current events', not history.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I've been able to bump my work hours from 32 to 40. It helps in the paycheck, but blows having weekends free. Then again, it's not like I've got a personal life for it to be interfering with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Which leads me to what hasn't been happening here. I'm not dating. I realized the other day that a year ago was 'our' last vacation together. It was a miserable vacation with me being really sick and him being totally '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;caretaker'ish&lt;/span&gt;'. I'm not whiny when I'm sick, but it really hurts when you're running a fever and feeling like death warmed over and the person you're with treats you like you've got the plague. I'd like to be dating... I think. I don't like being lonely, but I'm afraid of being hurt again. I put &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; much of myself into my last relationship that I'm terrified: terrified of being that hurt again, terrified of not being able to give that much of myself to someone else because I'm terrified of being that hurt again. Why can't Prince Charming just come knock on the front door, introduce himself and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;whisk&lt;/span&gt; me away to Happily Ever After land? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;If you're my Prince Charming; aka over 6'4", strong in your personality yet capable of being romantic, and know what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;HOH&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;OTK&lt;/span&gt; stand for... let me know and I'll give you directions to my front door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So, so far 2009 isn't great, but it's not as bad as it could be either...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8657933107440671056?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8657933107440671056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8657933107440671056&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8657933107440671056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8657933107440671056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/01/welcome-to-2009.html' title='Welcome to 2009 ?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5691087215360344081</id><published>2009-01-01T03:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T04:00:24.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVyvHrtExkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/oh2W_n-wzjw/s1600-h/baby.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286292609151845954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 264px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVyvHrtExkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/oh2W_n-wzjw/s400/baby.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVyvHxK-yLI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/LA7FmfR0xtA/s1600-h/new+year.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286292610619459762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 395px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 107px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVyvHxK-yLI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/LA7FmfR0xtA/s400/new+year.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5691087215360344081?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5691087215360344081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5691087215360344081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5691087215360344081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5691087215360344081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2009/01/welcome-2009.html' title='Welcome 2009'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVyvHrtExkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/oh2W_n-wzjw/s72-c/baby.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-1137052052828069286</id><published>2008-12-26T15:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T16:05:14.242-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random thoughts from recent days</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I know I haven't been around here much lately, and I'll blame it mostly on a lack of time with enough privacy to come here and be honest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Working midnights doesn't allow for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; of free time to do the things I'd like to do, but usually I have thoughts running &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; my head I'd really like to come here and put down 'on paper'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Back in October I found out J was reading this blog, almost daily reading it! I found this out when I got an email from him in response to a blog post where I listed some of the things from our relationship I was missing. His email &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;prompted&lt;/span&gt; a phone call from me, and we talked for almost an hour. We agree to exchange emails and see each other when he was down here Thanksgiving week. Let's just say he kept neither promise he made to me during that phone call. I'd thought that his lack of keeping his word would have crushed me, but I was surprised to find I wasn't hurt by what he was doing, but by the fact that I realized this was his pattern of behavior for the last 5+ years. Our relationship was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;stagnant&lt;/span&gt; because HE is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;stagnant&lt;/span&gt;. He's not a person capable of sharing himself emotionally, yet he's smart enough to know how to do and say the right thing at the right time to keep getting away with keeping a women at arms length and waiting. I realized it wasn't just me he'd done this to, but all the women in his life. I'm a woman who when I give myself to a man, I give myself totally. I feel disappointed in myself for not realizing what his pattern was years earlier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;And to J... STOP READING HERE! I know you've read here again. You're not part of my life anymore, so please just go away and stay away!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;* * * * * * * * *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;If you want the perfect Christmas present, buy it for yourself &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! I wanted 3 things for Christmas, a smaller digital camera (I have a semi-professional one that's amazing, but not 'small'), a new ring to replace one I no longer wear, and a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;portable&lt;/span&gt;/personal DVD player. Black Friday I got a really nice Kodak digital camera on sale, 2 weeks ago I got a beautiful blue topaz ring, and after plenty of research I got a Sony, 8", DVD player. To anyone looking to buy one of these portable DVD players, pay close attention to the charged-life of the battery. The average is 2-2.5 hours, which may not be long enough to watch the DVD you want to watch when traveling! The Sony one I got has a charged-life of 6 hours! The screen pivots and lays flat, it comes with the accessories to connect it to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, and the A/C and car charger. The only two things it doesn't come with are a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;carrycase&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;DVD's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;* * * * * * * &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I think it's time for me to find a new man. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;One friend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;suggests&lt;/span&gt; I find a new 'buddy' for fun only. Other's suggest I just date around. A 'buddy' isn't my style, if all I wanted was sex it wouldn't have been 10 months and counting since I've had any. And dating for the sake of dating it's my style either. I'm 46 now, I want to find someone to spend the rest of my life with. I want to find a man who is tall and strong, both physically and emotionally. I want him to enjoy laughing as much as he enjoys 'growling' at me ( I love that gruff tone a man can get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;WEG&lt;/span&gt;!). Of course he's got to be willing to put up with my needs too... the need to spoil him and be spoiled in return, the need to serve and be serviced sexually as often as possible, the need to make sure he always knows he's cared about while he's making sure I always know he cares in return.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So if you happen to know this man, and he lives in SW Florida, EMAIL ME asap &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;* * * * * * * * &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;As much as my job bores me senseless, I'm grateful to have a job in this economy. Everyday I hear the numbers on unemployment and am glad I have a job, any job. When things start to swing upwards again, I'll go out and find a job that requires more of me than an ability to stay awake when normal people are sleeping. I miss using my brain, but at least I don't have to worry about ending up homeless. Life isn't about what you have, but how grateful you are for it! I may not have everything I want, but I am grateful for what I do have in a time when so many have so little.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-1137052052828069286?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/1137052052828069286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=1137052052828069286&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1137052052828069286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1137052052828069286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/12/random-thoughts-from-recent-days.html' title='Random thoughts from recent days'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5529182778526541141</id><published>2008-12-25T04:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T04:27:20.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HO! HO! HO!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVN8FRn8QmI/AAAAAAAAAEA/XgQq_9bHA6k/s1600-h/m7.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283703217907843682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 337px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVN8FRn8QmI/AAAAAAAAAEA/XgQq_9bHA6k/s400/m7.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVN8FOuuslI/AAAAAAAAAD4/trkSkB5qigE/s1600-h/lc_bar.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283703217131008594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 80px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVN8FOuuslI/AAAAAAAAAD4/trkSkB5qigE/s400/lc_bar.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5529182778526541141?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5529182778526541141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5529182778526541141&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5529182778526541141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5529182778526541141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/12/ho-ho-ho.html' title='HO! HO! HO!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SVN8FRn8QmI/AAAAAAAAAEA/XgQq_9bHA6k/s72-c/m7.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8186941094634393088</id><published>2008-12-12T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T17:18:19.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;I've got a million things to blog about, but hardly any time to do it. I promise I'll be back SOON to do it, but for now, here's a semi-boring meme LOL...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000099;"&gt;* * * &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Is sex best in the morning, afternoon, or night?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– All of the above. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;With the right person there’s no wrong time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. On which side of the bed do you sleep?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;– If you’re facing the bed you’ll find me on the left side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Pork, beef, or chicken?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Thick-cut pork chop, T-bone or KFC? All of the above!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Have you ever had to pull over on the side of the road to puke?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Only after drugs for an MRI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5. What leg do you put in pants first when putting them on?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Both.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6. Candles or incense?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Candles are romantic and smell good, incense reminds me of when I was trying to cover the smell of something else I’d ‘burned’ in the room (way back when lol)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Do you dance when no one is watching?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Definitely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8. Did you play doctor when you were little?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. Stove top cooking, grill or microwave?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Grill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Would you rather your car or your house be dirty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;– Car &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11. Shower or bath?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Shower if I’m in a hurry, bubble bath to pamper myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12. Do you pee in the shower?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Eww! No!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. Mexican or Chinese food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;– Mexican… yum!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14. Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;– Aggressive I guess, definitely not passive, prefer ‘assertive’ WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15. Do you own sex toys?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– I wish I owned stock in Duracell!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16. Corn dogs or hot dogs?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Neither, I can’t stand hot dogs no matter what you cover them in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17. Your favorite restaurant?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– I haven’t found one here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18. What did you have for lunch today?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– With my work schedule, I eat ‘lunch’ at 3am. Today it will be roast beef and garlic mashed potatoes (dinner leftovers lol)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19. When did you last fall down?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– About a month ago when my back went out, I fell trying to get out of the shower &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20. Have you ever wished someone were dead?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Not proud of it, but yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21. Love or money?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;22. Credit cards or cash?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Cash&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23. Has there ever been anyone in your family you wish wasn’t?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– I should have been an only child, what a shame my parents had 2 other children after me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24. Oreo’s or vanilla wafers?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Depends on my mood. They’ve changed vanilla wafers, so they’re not my first choice anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25. How do you like your steak cooked?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Medium well. No pink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26. How do you like your eggs cooked?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– I don’t much care how you cook them so long as the whites are firm and the yellows are warm/hot and runny!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;27. Have you ever knocked someone off their feet in a fight?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Sadly yes. Shouldn’t the things we do when we’re 18 should be wiped out of memories when we ‘grow – up’?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;28. Would you rather go camping or to a five star hotel?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Room service vs bugs and dirt? I like being spoiled, so how about a six star hotel? LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;29. Would you rather have a root canal or minor surgery?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Definitely surgery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30. Would you shave your entire body (including your head) for money?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– For enough money I’d do it… heck, I shave everything but my head for free, so why not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31. Would you rather have lice or an STD?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– No, no, no!!! Went through the lice – thing with my kids when they were in elementary school, I’d rather have nearly anything but lice!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;32. What’s your favorite hard candy?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Life Savers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33. Ever been to a strip club?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34. Ever been to a bar?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35. Ever been kicked out of a bar or a club?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yes, see question #27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;36. Ever been so drunk you had to be carried out of somewhere?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;37. Kissed someone of the same sex?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38. Had sex in the car?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yes, not an experience I’d like to repeat unless it’s a van or SUV!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;39. Had sex at the beach?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;40. Had sex in a movie theater?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– No&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41. Had sex in a bathroom?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yes, in the shower.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42. Have you ever been in an "adult" store?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Many.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;43. Is there anyone on your friends list you would ever consider having sex with?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Umm, yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;44. Have you been caught having sex?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Never caught, but definitely ‘interrupted’ when almost caught!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;45. Have you ever kissed a stranger?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Yes, he became my ex – husband… No more kissing strangers for me LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;46. Does anyone have naughty pictures of you?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– Pictures, no. Unless he erased it, video – yes WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8186941094634393088?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8186941094634393088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8186941094634393088&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8186941094634393088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8186941094634393088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/12/ive-got-million-things-to-blog-about.html' title=''/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-652937510784560820</id><published>2008-11-16T16:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T16:48:29.785-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A very chilly Sunday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Wow it was chilly here last night!!! It got down to 50F!!! Yeah, I know, I'm a wimp LOL!!! But Saturday the high here was in the mid 80's (with a 'feels like' of over 90F), and currently it's a whomping 60F and breezy!!! I've left my bathroom window open for weeks, and this morning 2 of the houseplants in there were all shriveled and dead from getting too cold :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I went with CR to the movies today. We went to see The Changeling...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269420711866041586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 219px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SSC-OAbchPI/AAAAAAAAADY/NPMwjA5Z6is/s320/changeling_poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;... It was wonderful!! Anyone who hasn't seen it yet I highly recommend it, and suggest that if you go to see it that you hit the bathroom before you find your seat, and DON'T get the large pop LOL! There's no point in this movie when you won't miss something important to the story if you have to make a bathroom run! We saw it at the 9:35am showing and had the entire theater to ourselves! Gotta tell ya, I LIKE having my pick of seats and being able to talk to my movie-mate and not have anyone shushing us... or eavesdropping on 'interesting' chatter WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I don't get out often enough, especially not to just bop around and 'windowshop' to my hearts content. I think I went to 20 stores today, and aside from groceries at Publix, the biggest purchase I made today was a bunch of starter house plants. I like having living plants around me, and the temperate weather and amount of sunshine here has them growing like weeds! Tomorrow I have 12 'baby' plants to put into pots and find homes for around the house. Not all 12 are new, I had some of them just waiting to get stronger before I transplanted them, but tomorrow is definately going to be a dirt-under-the-fingernails day :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My back is still messed up, but a LOT better then it was 2 weeks ago!!! I can atleast walk upright now... even if I do walk slow LOL! I had my back-support brace off most of today, and it's aching like a bad toothache right now, but I'll take aching over shooting pain any day of the week :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-652937510784560820?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/652937510784560820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=652937510784560820&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/652937510784560820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/652937510784560820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/11/very-chilly-sunday.html' title='A very chilly Sunday!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SSC-OAbchPI/AAAAAAAAADY/NPMwjA5Z6is/s72-c/changeling_poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5360539598036024601</id><published>2008-11-05T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T16:00:55.045-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little did I know...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;... that when I moved to Paradise I'd end up living in Hell!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I moved away from snow and a crummy job. Where I live now has beautiful weather, sunshine and beaches. Little did I know that living with my mother would be torture, hell on earth almost every day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;She asked me to move here, I didn't invite myself. Before I agreed to move here we agreed she wouldn't be my 'mother', she'd be my roommate. HA!!! When she's not treating me like I'm 3 years old, she's acting like she is! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I all but get reminded to wipe my own butt!! Today I got reminded that I need to do laundry. When I said I'd done my laundry on Sunday, she literally came in to see how much was in my laundry basket! Never mind that it's none of her business when I need to do laundry, I mean I am smart enough to know when I'm running out of clean panties all by myself, but to actually come in a check?? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;GRRRRRRRRRRRRR&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Because I work from 11pm to 7am, on the first day of the week that I'm going to work I lay down to take a nap in the afternoon. Forgetting I'd been laid up in bed with my back out for most of the day, at 4pm I was talking to her and said I was going to try to take a nap now. She headed to another part of the house and I closed my eyes. I guess I was pretty tired because the next thing I knew she's standing over me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;jostling&lt;/span&gt; my HIP to wake me up. Apparently she'd gotten a phone call and didn't know the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;answer&lt;/span&gt; to the callers question, so therefore I had to be woken up to tell her what the answer was. Two major problem with this, 1) I had no idea what she was talking about let alone the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;answer&lt;/span&gt; to the question, but 2) IT WAS 4:30!!!! I'd gotten to sleep for a whole whopping 30 minutes!! I bit my lip for at least 5 minutes while I PATIENTLY explained I had no way to know that it was she wanted me to tell her, when I said that maybe the next time she could tell a caller that she wanted to ask me and would call them back?!?!?! Oh yeah, THIS resulted in huffing and puffing and my bedroom door being slammed shut hard enough it knocked something off the top of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;She has apparently decided she wants to clean the carpet on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;lanai&lt;/span&gt; this coming weekend. She decided this yesterday, when I'm laid up in bed almost totally unable to move. She goes on and on about how dirty the carpet in there must be and how it 'just has to be' cleaned immediately, but... since I have to work and sleep she supposes she'll have to live 'with the dirt' till the weekend... and then I get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;pouty&lt;/span&gt; '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tude&lt;/span&gt; about how she supposes I'll just lay and watch her work due to my back!!!!!!!! Hello??? Oh, did I miss the part where I somehow knew she was going to pick this weekend to clean the carpet and therefore intentionally threw out my back to mess up her internal timeline?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Everyday is a new something for her to pick about. She misplaces something, she immediately asks ME where I put it, and when it's located in HER stuff she literally sulks!!! No 'gee sorry', no '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;oups&lt;/span&gt;'... somehow she finds a way to sulk and act like it's my fault she can't find something SHE misplaced.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;One day she'd like me to do something because I know how to do it better than she does (her words, not mine!), then the next day I'm too stupid to know whether or not I took the trash can to the curb that morning. By the way, instead of looking out the front wall on windows in the room she's in, or out the open door to the garage where you would normally see the trashcan, she calls my name and makes me come to her and then asks me if I took out the trash can. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Ummm&lt;/span&gt;, you can see it 20 feet away, in the sunshine, by the curb, by simply looking left vs right!!! I've given up on pointing this out to her because then I get muttered comments about apparently being 'too busy' to just do what she tells me to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The examples above are literally things that have happened this week (and it's only Wednesday!). Every week, every day has it's own example. There are days when I'd sell my body for enough money to have a car, simply so I could go away and live in it vs living with this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;pettiness&lt;/span&gt; every single day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;When I get a phone call, I find out 5 minutes (or more) later if she answered the phone. She's had nosy, non-of her business conversations with MY friends when they call me before she ever tells me the call is for me. If I get call when we're watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, I have to leave the room to talk because she just keeps turning up the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;volume&lt;/span&gt; on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; till I can't hear my call, yet she comes in and talks on the phone and I better not even dare to turn up the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;. When I want to have a personal, private conversation, I leave the house and go sit outside to have some privacy. Well, there is no privacy for me here. If I'm not back almost immediately, she follows me and finds 'something' to do where I am so that she can not only eavesdrop, but give me her comments on MY conversation while I'm still trying to have a conversation. A closed bedroom door means nothing here. She's gone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; my closet, my laundry, gives comments on anything of mine she happens to see. It's like living in prison in a really nice environment. I take that back, when I worked in a prison, the offenders had more privacy than I do, at least no one just walked in on THEM when they were trying to take a shower!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I think the kicker was when we were grocery shopping and I put some batteries into MY basket of stuff. She asked me why I needed batteries, and when I failed to answer she said (in that oh so loud tone mothers have perfected to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;embarrass&lt;/span&gt; their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;children&lt;/span&gt;) that I must need it for that 'nasty vibrating thing' I have IN THE CLOSED BOX ON MY DRESSER! Know what? She was right!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So if anyone reading this thinks I'm lucky to live in paradise... wanna trade?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5360539598036024601?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5360539598036024601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5360539598036024601&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5360539598036024601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5360539598036024601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-did-i-know.html' title='Little did I know...'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8691534884355120899</id><published>2008-11-04T11:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T11:36:39.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sciatica</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Well, it's happened again, my back has got out. It started to bother me last Thursday, and I was managing to pamper it into not becoming worse. Then yesterday when I had Maxx at the vet, it locked up and went totally out. My right hip is acting up now, and I'd really like to have a rx for some pretty decent pain drugs and a muscle relaxer!!! I'm going to head to the hot tub around 6pm and hope that some heat therapy will make it feel good enough to get me thru work tonight. I had the chance to work last night, but had to turn it down because I simply couldn't move. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Well, poor Maxx is neutered!!! It was when I lifted him up onto the exam table at the vets that my back went out (and he only weights 11.1 pounds!). Mom went with me to pick him up in the afternoon since I couldn't lift him up to even put him into the car for the ride home. He slept most of the day, and when he wasn't sleeping he was whimpering and looking at where his 'boo boo' is. Poor baby, he'd look there, give it a lick and then look at me like 'what did they do with it?'. I had to put one of those silly halo's on him for awhile becuase he was licking too much and while they stitched the 'inner' wound closed, they only super glued the surface area.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I sent an email the other day that I was glad I sent. Problem is I haven't heard a response to the email yet, and the more time goes by the more I'm wondering if I didn't make a mistake in sending it in the first place. I could have written the email easily, only easy wouldn't have been honest. Instead I wrote a very honest email and waiting to hear a response to it is driving me insane. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Well, my back is telling me I've been gone from the heating pad and bed more than long enough. I have got to get to work tonight, so I've got to spend as much time pampering my back between now and then as I can.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8691534884355120899?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8691534884355120899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8691534884355120899&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8691534884355120899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8691534884355120899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/11/sciatica.html' title='Sciatica'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5000571994227911890</id><published>2008-11-01T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T23:19:30.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepless in Paradise</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Grrr&lt;/span&gt;! I can't sleep!!! I was up at 6:30 this morning after getting less than 4 hours of sleep last night and it's now after 1am, why oh why am I wide awake??? Around 3 this afternoon I got tired and thought of laying down to take a nap, but decided to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;resist&lt;/span&gt; the urge. My thought was that by being awake long enough I'd SLEEP tonight, really sleep, the restful, deep, peaceful type. Instead it's 1:05am (or 2:05am according to my body) and I'm wide awake!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I have actually slept deeply, if not '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;longly&lt;/span&gt;', for the last couple of nights/days. I'm starting to find peace of mind over something that has bothered me for a long time, and that peace of mind &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; translated into my sleep improving. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Until tonight :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I want to go to sleep. I want to dream and wake up feeling rested again. Being awake has be over-thinking things in my head again, and that's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;conducive&lt;/span&gt; to my getting to sleep any time soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Part of what's bothering me is worrying over friends. One is going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; panic attack issues, and I feel for him and his wife. I know from experience how hard this can be for both partners to deal with. Another is facing some serious financial issues. It's one of those times when you'd like to win the lottery so you can help someone who truly deserves to be helped, yet since I haven't won the lottery there's nothing I can do but try to be there and listen. Another friend has ended her marriage and seems to be having way too much fun! Not that I don't think she deserves to have as much fun as possible, I just wonder how much of her fun is to keep from feeling the things I'm pretty sure she's feeling. When I think my life is messed-up, I think of them and know things could be worse for me. Yet in a way I'm also kinda jealous, because no matter how hard life is for them right now, they each have loving partners to go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; this with. No matter how today went for them, right now they're all curled up in bed beside someone who loves them, and I'm sleeping alone in a king size bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I have an email I'm supposed to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;writing&lt;/span&gt; for someone. What I'm supposed to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;writing&lt;/span&gt; about should be a snap for me to do, but it's actually turning out to be really hard. I know how I want to write it, what I want to say, but I'm not sure if in doing that I'm being honest. What was, isn't now, so do I write based on the way things used to be or based on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;confusion&lt;/span&gt; I feel now. Do I write my fantasy, my 'happy', or do I admit I'm scared? Do I write that I don't know what will happen, what I want is what was, but I'm afraid of what has changed. Maybe I'll write my 'happy' and hope that the email makes the receiver realize that 'happy' is a good thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Well, I'm going to go cuddle with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt; now and hope his sleeping makes me sleepy too &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! Poor baby gets neutered on Monday... hope he forgives me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5000571994227911890?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5000571994227911890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5000571994227911890&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5000571994227911890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5000571994227911890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/11/sleepless-in-paradise.html' title='Sleepless in Paradise'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4009566146043058999</id><published>2008-10-31T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T21:05:47.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;It's been a long week, but a pretty good one :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I worked last night 11p to 7a, then again today from 3p to 11p... yes, I'm tired!!! But it made for a 40 hour week, so I'm not complaining. Next week is going to be 40 hours again, so at least one of my paychecks in the next few months will be nice LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I did something the other day that I'm really glad I got to do. Not sure how it's going to turn out, but it's better already than it was before :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Early appt to get my haircut in the morning then hitting Bealls for their 'early bell ringer' sale!!! Time to buy a new robe... and shoes!!! WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4009566146043058999?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4009566146043058999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4009566146043058999&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4009566146043058999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4009566146043058999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/friday-night.html' title='Friday night'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-3508814112523651474</id><published>2008-10-30T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T19:16:06.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How come I can't be 'the girl'?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Picture it, I'm sitting on the l&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;anai&lt;/span&gt; with my mom watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;. Suddenly she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;shrieks&lt;/span&gt; like 'a girl' and starts flailing around. I jump and look over and there's a '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;palmetto&lt;/span&gt; bug' on the footrest of her recliner. Her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;screeches&lt;/span&gt; are "get it! oh get it!".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;How come I'M supposed to 'get it'? How come I'm not 'the girl' too? Don't I get to be the one who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;screeches&lt;/span&gt; and flails and waits for someone else to 'get it'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, yes, I 'got it'. It took about 20 minutes (dang those things are fast and hide well in a recliner!), but I 'got it' with a tissue and 'freed it' outside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Geeze&lt;/span&gt;, when do I get to be 'the girl'??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I guess when it comes to 'getting it' Mom gets to be the girl... but I know exactly what area's I'm 'the girl' at... and bugs are NOT involved ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-3508814112523651474?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/3508814112523651474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=3508814112523651474&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3508814112523651474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3508814112523651474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/how-come-i-cant-be-girl.html' title='How come I can&apos;t be &apos;the girl&apos;?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-6589955231690813359</id><published>2008-10-27T17:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T18:04:43.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scary but true!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;You Are a Doris!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262002386492524978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SQZjSo4lCbI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-to4wlGOYs0/s320/mm_doris_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;"I must help others." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dorises are warm, concerned, nurturing, and sensitive to other people's needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;How to Get Along with Me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;* Tell me that you appreciate me. Be specific.&lt;br /&gt;* Share fun times with me.&lt;br /&gt;* Take an interest in my problems, though I will probably try to focus on yours.&lt;br /&gt;* Let me know that I am important and special to you.&lt;br /&gt;* Be gentle if you decide to criticize me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;What I Like About Being a Doris &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;* being able to relate easily to people and to make friends&lt;br /&gt;* knowing what people need and being able to make their lives better&lt;br /&gt;* being generous, caring, and warm&lt;br /&gt;* being sensitive to and perceptive about others' feelings&lt;br /&gt;* being enthusiastic and fun-loving, and having a good sense of humor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;What's Hard About Being a Doris &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;* not being able to say no&lt;br /&gt;* feeling drained from overdoing for others&lt;br /&gt;* not doing things I really like to do for myself for fear of being selfish&lt;br /&gt;* criticizing myself for not feeling as loving as I think I should&lt;br /&gt;* working so hard to be tactful and considerate that I suppress my real feelings&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/are-you-a-jackie-or-a-marilyn-or-someone-else-mad-menera-female-icon-quiz"&gt;http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/are-you-a-jackie-or-a-marilyn-or-someone-else-mad-menera-female-icon-quiz&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-6589955231690813359?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/6589955231690813359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=6589955231690813359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6589955231690813359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6589955231690813359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/scary-but-true.html' title='Scary but true!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SQZjSo4lCbI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-to4wlGOYs0/s72-c/mm_doris_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5468382739655067435</id><published>2008-10-27T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T09:11:04.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't they know...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My friends, people who's opinions I respect greatly, have been spending the last few months trying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; hard to help me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; the break-up. They've listened to me cry, rant, rage, blame myself, ask why a million times. Basically they've been wonderful and I'm shocked they're not fed-up with my attitude swings on this topic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Yes, sometimes I am over it, but those moments are rare and short-lived. What they're not hearing is how almost constantly my heart still aches. Honestly, it's not just my heart that aches, it's my arms that miss laying across his chest, it's my hands that miss the feel of his body, it's my mouth that misses the taste of him. I miss his smell, his taste, the sound of his voice. I crave feeling him holding my arm gently behind me headed to my bedroom. I miss the feel of his lips kissing me, the feel of his arms when they'd close around me. I miss feeling safe, as if together we were stronger than anything that could come at us. It wasn't about money, it wasn't about 'stuff', it was something more... I miss just looking over and seeing him there. I find myself waking up in the middle of the night with my mouth nursing him, only he's not there. I still wake up several times a week with tears in my eyes. I'm not over this, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I want to be past it because it just hurts so much. But if I get over it then it's like I've lost something beyond measure. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Damnit&lt;/span&gt;, I felt my world tilt the first time I saw him, and for everyday thereafter I felt my heart 'thump' when I'd hear his voice. We were apart for 3 years, and even during the relationship I was in for those 3 years he haunted my dreams and never left my thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I accepted him for who he was and loved the man he tried to hide and protect. I made mistakes during our relationship, but they only showed me how much HE was what I wanted, that no one was going to take his place in my soul. I was scared about this move, and I know it had to be hard for him. too But the best things in life are sometimes the things that are the hardest to achieve. We were worth the effort.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;November is coming. I know he'll probably be in my area soon. If not November, then between Christmas and New Years. The idea of him so close yet so far is killing me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I have a song lyric haunting me for the last few days. "Don't they know it's the end of the world, it ended when you said goodbye". Don't they know I still miss him, miss us, miss the future we could have had together? Doesn't he know what he said he did as the right thing for me is slowly destroying my life? Doesn't he know he can come back and know I'll still love him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5468382739655067435?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5468382739655067435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5468382739655067435&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5468382739655067435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5468382739655067435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-they-know.html' title='Don&apos;t they know...'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-7520939872089509173</id><published>2008-10-27T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T05:13:40.179-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Changed too soon?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Noooo&lt;/span&gt;! I'm sitting here watching CNN and they just said my Future-President is going to be in my previous hometown today!!! His running mate was in my new hometown a few weeks ago, but this is the one guy I really really want to see!!! Dang, did I move too soon? Today is not a good day, my Future-President is going to be where I used to live and we're freezing here in SW Florida... it was only 58F this morning and tomorrows high is only going to be 70F!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Got a call and will be working 5 days/nights this week vs 4. My paycheck always appreciates these weeks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;! Before I moved here was a point where I worked 23 days straight. As much as I liked THAT paycheck, I think I'll take SW Florida over NE Ohio :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;7 days till &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt; gets neutered. Hopefully it will deter his yearning to run across the street and to chase rabbits into the preserve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-7520939872089509173?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/7520939872089509173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=7520939872089509173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7520939872089509173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/7520939872089509173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-changed-too-soon.html' title='I Changed too soon?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5599218422268307808</id><published>2008-10-26T17:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T17:40:25.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey Danielle....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I can't beleive that you were soooo close to where I used to live!!! Dang! Now you'll just have to come back there when I'm up there this Spring! WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5599218422268307808?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5599218422268307808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5599218422268307808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5599218422268307808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5599218422268307808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/hey-danielle.html' title='Hey Danielle....'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4559175274710293412</id><published>2008-10-22T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T17:32:30.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It's been 8 months since J broke up with me, shouldn't it have stopped hurting  by now? Somedays I feel strong and past him, some days I feel lost and miss him/us so much it still makes me cry. He's invaded my dreams again, so now I can't even find solice in sleeping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;When I was talking to Sir G the other day he reminded me of something important. He'd asked me once what word I would use to describe my emotions while dating J. I used the word lonely. I was lonely alot. He kept me at either arms length or pulled tightly against his heart, there never seemed to be a middle ground. I wish I could remember the lonely times more often, then maybe I wouldn't still be feeling so damn lonely now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;But instead of remembering the lonely times, I just wish he'd come back again and let me into his life, into the 'middle ground'. When does this end???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4559175274710293412?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4559175274710293412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4559175274710293412&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4559175274710293412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4559175274710293412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/lonely.html' title='Lonely'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-1208807971157338949</id><published>2008-10-20T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T20:40:25.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You Sir G</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Just a quick note to say a special thank you to Sir G. When I need an honest, real, truth vs 'nice' male point of view, Sir G is exactly who I talk to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;He's only the second man in my life that I've respected enough to call Sir, and the only one who's stood by me thru everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;You weren't 'nice' Sir G, but you reminded me of some harsh truths that I needed to hear again. You wife KT is one very lucky woman... most of the time WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-1208807971157338949?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/1208807971157338949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=1208807971157338949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1208807971157338949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1208807971157338949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/thank-you-sir-g.html' title='Thank You Sir G'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-6711528591758329711</id><published>2008-10-19T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T21:05:54.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;Well, another week bites the dust! This last week has been strange to say the least. What a shame it wasn't strange in a fun way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;Got asked out, freaked out like a total twit. Tried to get overtime at work, almost lost a day on the schedule. Made the appointment to get poor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt; neutered. Have been totally confused about my thoughts about J yet once again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;Today was supposed to be spent doing a movie and lunch with C, but she had to cancel. I totally understand why she had to cancel, but I was really looking forward to us getting to spend some girl-time together. Hopefully things will work out soon for us to spend a day together... even if it means forcing her into a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bathing suit&lt;/span&gt; and just hanging at the pool &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;WEG&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;My brain is still jumping all over the place when I think about J. There were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sooooo&lt;/span&gt; many things wrong with that relationship, and I can honestly lay 98% of them directly a his feet. He treated me like his dirty little secret and refused to allow me into his 'real life'. My 2% of the blame comes in allowing it to happen and not throwing a total fit about it much sooner than I did. It probably wasn't fair of me to wait until this had been going on for almost 6 years and we were on vacation to unload how I was feeling. Though I probably would have not said anything if I hadn't been so sick at the time... apparently being ill and feeling awful removed my internal filter that had me keeping too much to myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000066;"&gt;Oh well, I'll admit I still miss 'us' and still cry over it from time to time. I'll also admit I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to the time when I don't miss him. Gee, I'm still pretty confused, but at least I'm clearheaded enough to acknowledge it! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-6711528591758329711?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/6711528591758329711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=6711528591758329711&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6711528591758329711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6711528591758329711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/sunday-thoughts.html' title='Sunday thoughts'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4003819716265491740</id><published>2008-10-17T08:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T09:00:43.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep deprivation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I've never been a great sleeper, and for the last few weeks I've entered a really frustrating sleep cycle. I fall asleep easily, then find myself waking up completely almost exactly 3 hours later. From that point on I'm waking up almost every hour and having a progressively harder time falling back asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Working midnights makes sleeping 'normally' hard enough, but this cycle has me feeling tired all the time and my emotions are getting closer and closer to the surface.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Today was a good example of my emotions being much too close to the surface. Each time I woke up I felt more and more that what I needed to really SLEEP was to be wrapped in J's arms... to feel protected and cherished. My logical mind is past this, but when I'm this tired all I want is to not be alone, to feel that someone out there gives a crap if I live or die, that someone feels I'm worth being held and cuddled. Geeze, I'm sitting here typing this and tearing up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I want to blame this on being sleep deprived, but I wonder is it the lack of sleep or is being so tired allowing my true heart to break thru the wall I've tried to put around it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm so damn unhappy. I tell everyone how great I'm doing, how much I love living here, how much I 'like' my job, and in my heart I know it's all bs. I'm just saying it to keep everyone else happy, to not have to explain how I am feeling... to not have to acknowledge outloud how miserable I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Right now I'd swallow every ounce of pride I have to hear his voice. I can't think of anything I wouldn't give up to feel his arms close around me again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4003819716265491740?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4003819716265491740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4003819716265491740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4003819716265491740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4003819716265491740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/sleep-deprivation.html' title='Sleep deprivation'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-832504973507131051</id><published>2008-10-15T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T17:57:20.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not so bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Well, last night/this morning didn't go too badly! I made a joke about 'being better in the dark' to try to explain about being such a dork yesterday, and he picked up on it and we started joking about things that are better in the dark vs the light of day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I was nervous and things turned out fine and we're back to laughing and flirting... hopefully things stay this way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm obviously not ready to date... wonder if I'll ever be :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-832504973507131051?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/832504973507131051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=832504973507131051&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/832504973507131051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/832504973507131051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-so-bad.html' title='Not so bad'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-414381798421945156</id><published>2008-10-14T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T16:42:20.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Asked out!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Yesterday I said I wasn't ready to date, then today I got asked out on a date!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I don't interact with many people at work (most people are sleeping during my working hours), but I do see the newspaper delivery people and the maintenance people when they're arriving for work. One of the newspaper delivery people I see is a man who's in his late 40's who delivers the paper as his 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; job. I won't mention what his first job is, but I'm shocked with what he does for a living he needs a second income. He's sweet, funny and greets me each morning with "good morning beautiful". We've had some fun flirting with each other since June and I do look forward to seeing him in the mornings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Well, today I ran into him at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Publix&lt;/span&gt; when I was buying my bi-monthly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;junkfood&lt;/span&gt; stash for work. He was teasing me about how much junk / candy I had in the cart and I was teasing him about the icky veggies he had in the basket on his arm. We were laughing in line and I was just enjoying laughing and flirting with him. When I was checking out he off-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;handedly&lt;/span&gt; made a comment that blew me away. He asked me out to dinner and dancing at this club we'd been discussing while in line.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Suddenly I felt light-headed and like my stomach had dropped 10 feet. I felt like I sounded like an idiot when I said thanks but no thanks. I hadn't realized how freaked out I would be just by having a nice guy ask me out. I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; by how freaked out I got. I had men ask me out when I was with J and it never really phased me, so I don't understand why I felt like I did today. I finished paying for my junk and headed to the car. While I was standing there he came over and actually apologized for upsetting me. I'm so damn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt;!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm going to see him this morning when I'm at work, so I'm 3 hours away from leaving for work and already dreading it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Sometimes I could kick J in the... you get my point. Before he broke my heart the idea of being asked out would have made me feel great, now apparently it makes me feel like throwing up :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-414381798421945156?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/414381798421945156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=414381798421945156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/414381798421945156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/414381798421945156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/asked-out.html' title='Asked out!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-511843495576622042</id><published>2008-10-13T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T10:31:57.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Helpful?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I've sat here and watched amazing displays of wildlife. I've seen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hawks&lt;/span&gt;, bald eagles, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;coyotes&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;raccoon's&lt;/span&gt;, more insects and snakes than I care to remember, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;alligators&lt;/span&gt; and turtles. For some reason much too often I see people trying to 'help' these animals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Does a bald eagle really need someone to put out a thawed turkey from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Publix&lt;/span&gt; to feed it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Do we really need to catch the snake and 'relocate' it someplace 'safer'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;If 'relocating' the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;alligators&lt;/span&gt; is so helpful, how come it keeps coming back to the same spot a month later?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;The one people seem to feel a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;compulsive&lt;/span&gt; need to 'help' the most often are the turtles. I'm not talking little turtles here, I'm talking turtles that have shells over a foot in width. They've obviously survived a long time to get to this size, yet my neighbors keep 'helping' them. Today I was watching one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tottle&lt;/span&gt; down the street towards the lake/pond when someone saw it, stopped their golf cart, picked it up, and moved it from the street to my yard. Now we're not talking a busy street here, remember that most of us drive golf carts up and down the streets here. This poor turtle had worked a long time to get to where he was, then when 'helped' into my yard they put him back about 20 feet farther from the water he was headed to. I watched him go back into the street and start off towards the pond again, only to have someone else stop and put it into the grass even farther back from the water than he was the last time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Again he wandered back into the street and headed towards the water. This time he almost made it when someone picked him up and put him in the grass. At least this time it was the grass where the lake/pond is!!! Each time someone would pick him up his legs would thrash and his head would whip all around. Wouldn't you take this  to mean 'leave me the hell alone'?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Watching this scene play out got me to thinking about my friends and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;acquaintance's&lt;/span&gt; who are trying to 'help' me. I know you love me, and I know you only have the best of intentions in your heart, but please stop telling me about the 'real job' you heard of that I'd be perfect for. I am more than satisfied doing (or not doing) what I am for now. Please stop trying to get me to date this great guy you know. I don't want to date right now. I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready again, but when/if I am I promise you all will be the first to know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I am bored at work, but I have a job where I'm not going to be downsized or outsourced or closed down. I make barely enough money but I know my job isn't going anywhere. Right now it's the safest thing in my life, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I'm lonely, I miss J. I miss DD. I miss being held and stroked and touched and yeah, I really miss having my hair pulled and lead to the bedroom by him holding my arm and leading me. I'm not ready to let someone else in that deep into my heart yet. I gave J my soul, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;believed&lt;/span&gt; I'd spend the rest of my life safe in his heart. I'm not ready to risk being hurt again. Please give me time to figure out who I am now before I try to find someone to 'complete' me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Help is given with the best of intentions, but like that turtle today, sometimes you just need to be left alone to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;tottle&lt;/span&gt; towards the water at your own pace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-511843495576622042?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/511843495576622042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=511843495576622042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/511843495576622042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/511843495576622042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/helpful.html' title='Helpful?'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5210633668923526188</id><published>2008-10-08T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T16:39:05.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Darn thunderstorms!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'd written this really long, very honest blog post the other day. Actually I was almost finished writting but had not quiet finished it. Then Mother Nature apparenty decided I didn't need to blog that day. What had been a quiet afternoon rain turned into a raging thunderstorm, and the first lightening burst blew the electric here and POOF went my blog post :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Work is work. I'm still bored mindless and giggling over actually being paid to stay up all night and watch movies and read. In this economy I'm just grateful for a paycheck, so I'm not complaining too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Politics have been keeping my attention lately. I won't go into the details of who I beleive and who makes me scream at the tv, but those who know me know who I'm backing and know they won't be changing my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I've been thinking alot about J lately. He'd planned so much on his 401K allowing him to retire (or semi-retire) in the next few years. I know he's very cautious about his investments, but with the stockmarket nightmare going worldwide, I can't stop worrying about how he's being effected. As much as he hurt me, I hate the thought that all he'd wanted for himself and his future could now be destroyed. I can stay I'm past him all I want (and in someways I am), but when you love someone who you imagine growing old with, I guess you never stop worrying about them and hoping they're not in pain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Yup, I still love him and wish things were different. Today is just one of those days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Maxx is getting bigger and bigger. His mom was 6 lbs and his dad was 8 lbs and at 6 months old Maxx is now 11 lbs! If he gets much bigger he won't fit on my lap LOL! He's still a big baby tho and the main man in my life. Wonder how he'll feel about me next month when I take him in to get neutered? LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Ok, well that's it for here for now. I'll try to post more often and keep a better eye out on the weather.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5210633668923526188?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5210633668923526188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5210633668923526188&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5210633668923526188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5210633668923526188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/10/darn-thunderstorms.html' title='Darn thunderstorms!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4518718478061173221</id><published>2008-09-19T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T13:47:26.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Sorry for the delay in blogging updates. Privacy is hard to find around here now, and coming on here and 'talking' is something I do with emotion, and it's difficult to come here and blog then leave my room and be 'normal'. I'll definately have to work on this tho, I don't like when blogs I read don't update on a regular basis, so I don't want to be what I don't like having done to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;If your brain isn't twisted and semi-fried from that last sentence, keep reading LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Things with mom and I are better. We haven't found our 'room-mate' rhythm again yet, but it's a vast improvement over the first few days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;The drive from Ohio to Florida was tough. The only other time I've been on those highways was with J, and there were alot of memories on that drive for me. The worst was crossing the state line between North &amp;amp; South Carolina and remembering 'playing' with J each time we were on that stretch of road... there's possibly some truckers out there with stories to tell of what they saw in the van/car WEG! Stopping in the first restarea in South Carolina brought me to tears. That's where the first palm tree is on that drive and it was always something special to me. It meant we were really 'away' and going to have 'us' time. Seeing it this time was a shock because I hadn't even thought about seeing it, so it really kicked me in the heart when it came into view.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;I don't know what to say I miss the most... intimacy, sex, spanking, DD, or all of the above. I can't imagine feeling those feelings again with anyone else, so I don't hold out much hope of having 3 things on that list ever again. Ok, enough of that, I don't want to be depressed today!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Tomorrow morning I'm going to grab the least amount of sleep my body requires then I'm heading out to spend time with C &amp;amp; her husband L. I love spending time with them and haven't really gotten to do so in months!! C and I have been able to get together a couple of times over the summer, but I haven't seen L since the Spring. Tomorrow is dinner, drinks and 'dish'... I can't wait!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#000099;"&gt;Angel is back online!!! I miss reading her blog(s) and am thrilled she's back online. I'd like to link her new blog on my blogroll, but will wait till she says it's ok first :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4518718478061173221?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4518718478061173221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4518718478061173221&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4518718478061173221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4518718478061173221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/09/random-update.html' title='Random update'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-6708971711961883543</id><published>2008-09-10T17:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T17:30:22.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Home' is more than a word</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;There's a big difference between a house and 'home'. This past summer I really felt like I was home.... now I feel like I live in a house. Like I live in a house where I'm not welcome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I got home with my mom on Sunday. 4 days in the car was tough, but only really due to the lack of privacy. Travelling with Mom was enjoyable 95% of the time. From pretty much the moment we walked into the house, I've been miserable. I don't know what happened, but she's been sooooo cranky and nasty and negative. Her tone is always at least half pissed off, her pov is ALWAYS the glass is not just half empty, but it's dirty and leaving a ring on the table.  It's hard to live with someone who can't seem to find anything positive to say about anything!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm really praying that this is just a temporary readjustment period for her. If it's not, I'm going to end up homeless because I can't live like this for much long :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-6708971711961883543?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/6708971711961883543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=6708971711961883543&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6708971711961883543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/6708971711961883543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/09/home-is-more-than-word.html' title='&apos;Home&apos; is more than a word'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-2716256773163095002</id><published>2008-09-08T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T10:26:00.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Being couped up in a car with any other human being for 5 days is a test in patience!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;My mom's not a bad travelling companion, but after about the 3rd day in the car I was ready to leave her at a roadside rest stop!!! Not that she did anything to annoy me, I was just ready to have 10 minutes of 'alone' time and that simply isn't going to happen when you're sharing car space, motel rooms, and even sightseeing together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;The weather has cooled just the slightest here, so now it's actually possible to be outside for 10 minutes without sweating, vs the 3 minutes you had just a week ago! Come on January!!! I'm ready for highs around 80 instead of 100+ heat indexes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Settling back in at home with Mom and her dog is taking a bit of time. I'd gotten used to doing things my way and now I'm having to adjust to not having any privacy 24/7 again... wish me luck in not running away from home in the next 30 days LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-2716256773163095002?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/2716256773163095002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=2716256773163095002&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/2716256773163095002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/2716256773163095002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/09/back-home.html' title='Back home'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8656841585422707196</id><published>2008-09-01T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T09:24:30.567-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Labor Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Well, it's Labor Day. The day we're supposed to celebrate the 'work' we do, and reflect on the work we've put into our lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I keep thinking about the thing I put the most work into for the past 6 years... my relationship with J. Funny thing, when he ended 'us', one of the things he said was that he wasn't willing to put the work into our relationship that would be needed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;For the last 6 months I've been thinking about the work that goes into making a relationship work. I've come to realize that to him it was barely a part-time job and for me it was where I put in untold hours of unpaid overtime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;For the last couple of months I've been writting a post where I say 'goodbye' to our relationship in my head. I've come up with some pretty pithy comments, some revealing insights, and some words I wish I'd been able to say to him over the years. But know what? None of it really makes a difference. Well, it makes a difference to me but wouldn't make a difference to him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;So, I've figured out what our relationship needs from me for 5 1/2 years of work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I HEREBY RESIGN EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I gave it everything I had, and parts of me I didn't even realize I had. I made it the centerpoint of my life and worked everything else around it. I refused to acknowledge that while the position had some perks and some great moments, I was being unappreciated, overworked and only paid when I insisted on collecting a paycheck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'll miss the person I was in that job. But somewhere out there is a job where I get to be that person again and get paid vacations, paid sick-time, merit raises, and when overtime is needed, I'm asked and not ordered to do it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The job market may be rough at this time, but with enough resumes and interviews, I'm now sure that eventually I'll come across the right position for me and I'll be glad to accept the job!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8656841585422707196?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8656841585422707196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8656841585422707196&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8656841585422707196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8656841585422707196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/09/labor-day.html' title='Labor Day'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-3121537785985387187</id><published>2008-08-26T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T15:19:46.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who does this belong to???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SLSBYSGxYCI/AAAAAAAAADI/_AqtPbP4_no/s1600-h/dododo.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238954520715812898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SLSBYSGxYCI/AAAAAAAAADI/_AqtPbP4_no/s320/dododo.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I found this on the web and instantly fell in-love with the image. The problem is I can't remember the site I found it on. If it's yours, PLEASE let me know, I really want to give you credit for it!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-3121537785985387187?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/3121537785985387187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=3121537785985387187&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3121537785985387187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3121537785985387187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/who-does-this-belong-to.html' title='Who does this belong to???'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SLSBYSGxYCI/AAAAAAAAADI/_AqtPbP4_no/s72-c/dododo.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-1097013671422186194</id><published>2008-08-26T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T15:23:26.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Wow, time to do my first borrowed meme!! I 'borrowed' this one from Kitty (&lt;a href="http://myscratchingpost.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://myscratchingpost.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give you money and send you into the grocery store to pick up 5 items. You can only pick one thing from the following departments, what is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Produce: &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Strawberries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Frozen: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Breyers Ice Cream!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Meat: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Steak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Dairy: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Fat Free Milk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Can Goods: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Cream of Mushroom Soup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's say we're heading out for a weekend getaway. You're only allowed to bring 3 articles of clothing with you. So, what's in your bag?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(assuming I'm not going to be alone)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Black lace bra &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Black lace panties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Silk bathrobe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was to listen in on one of your conversations throughout the day, what 4 phrases or words would I be most likely to hear?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Oh please&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Alright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Good morning Maxx&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what 4 things do you find yourself doing every single day, and if you didn't get to do, you probably wouldn't be in the best mood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Going online&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Eating food with no nutritional value whatsoever&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Watching tv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Taking a shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're driving down the road, and suddenly you're hit with this sense of road rage. What 3 factors probably contributed to it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'm running late (which drives me insane no matter what!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Someone is weaving thru traffic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Music from another car that's so loud it makes MY car vibrate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet, you just scored a whole afternoon to yourself. We're talking a 3 hour block with nobody around. What 5 activities might we find you doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Checking for new spanking clips/vids online&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Playing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Reading DD/spanking stories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Playing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Talking on the phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're going to the zoo. But, it looks like it could start storming, so it'll have to be a quick visit. What 3 exhibits do we have to get to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Chimps&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Petting zoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Seals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just scored tickets to the taping of any show that comes on t.v. of your choice. You can pick 4, so what are you going to see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Winter Olympics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Summer Olympics&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Big Brother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Criminal Minds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're hungry for ice cream. I'll give you a triple dipper ice cream cone. What 3 flavors can I pile on for ya?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Strawberry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Cherry Vanilla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Rasberrry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody stole your purse/wallet…in order to get it back, you have to name 5 things you know are inside to claim it. So, what's in there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Cigarettes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Old employment ID&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Library card&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Cellphone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Sunglasses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are at a job fair, and asked in what areas you are interested in pursuing a career. Let's pretend you have every talent and ability to be whatever you wanted, so what 4 careers would be fun for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Professional submissive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Teacher (math or literature)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Editor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Professional photographer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you could go back and talk to the old you, when you were in high school, and inform yourself of 4 things, what would you say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Don't settle for anyone who doesn't love you at least as much as you love them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;If anyone ever hits you, LEAVE!!... it will happen again no matter what they say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;That I won't always be too skinny, so stop eating 2 med pepperoni pizza's now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;That I'm probably going to be 'single' forever, build a life for myself that makes ME happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-1097013671422186194?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/1097013671422186194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=1097013671422186194&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1097013671422186194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/1097013671422186194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/meme.html' title='Meme'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-4117499859195216760</id><published>2008-08-20T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T11:29:18.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fay was all wet!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Well, TS Fay was nothing more than alot of wind and some rain!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Hehehehehe, I was right!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;According to the weather station we got almost 6 inches of rain, but it came down pretty lightly over a day and  half. We didn't have any flooding here, but some of the resortish areas just south of me are still pretty flooded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Oh well, there's aways the next one LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-4117499859195216760?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/4117499859195216760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=4117499859195216760&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4117499859195216760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/4117499859195216760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/fay-was-all-wet.html' title='Fay was all wet!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-2237730178037429749</id><published>2008-08-19T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T21:21:28.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepless nights</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I haven't had a good nights sleep in almost a month. Nightmares come in many varieties, as I'm learning. The ones that keep me up, or wake me up and keep me from going back to sleep aren't the ones where scary things are happening. When I wake from those I can tell myself that something like in my dream can't possibly happen and within a few moments I can go back to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;No, the one that keeps me up and wakes me up and won't let me go back to sleep is unique. It's not a 'scary dream', it was once something that made me smile in my sleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Last winter I said something to J that I'd never said to anyone, male or female, in my life. Laying together, pulled tightly agianst him, I said "I feel safe. This is the safest place in my universe". I can still hear his response; "good, that's the way it's supposed to be'. Within months he ended us, he took away the only safe place I'd ever known. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;In so many ways he was a lousy boyfriend. 5+ years and he'd never commit, never give me more of himself than HE wanted to give. But there was something there, from the very first, that 'clicked' and made 'us' work. Maybe it was the DD, maybe it was that he allowed and accepted my submissive side. Maybe it was the height differential between us that allowed me to feel 'small and feminine' beside him. Maybe it was the strength of his dominant persona... I don't know what it was, I just know that 'it' was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I can hear myself saying those words to him, feel his hand move away from the small of my back, and wrap around me. He pulled me oh so tightly against his side and kissed my forehead and said "good, that's the way it's supposed to be". And I beleived him. I beleived I would feel safe forever. I'd never felt safe before. I'd always felt like it was me against the world, and in his arms I honestly felt like I was cherished and protected. Not that 'he' could defeat all my demons, but that together we were stronger than any demon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I lay my head against my pillow, tired in body and mind, and as I enter that place where reality slips away and dreams begin, I hear those words, feel his embrace... and I wake up with tears and my heart breaking anew. I want to make that one memory either go away or come true... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I want to stop having to wipe away fresh tears between keystokes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-2237730178037429749?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/2237730178037429749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=2237730178037429749&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/2237730178037429749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/2237730178037429749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/sleepless-nights.html' title='Sleepless nights'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-3474752547015461205</id><published>2008-08-18T07:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T07:46:46.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TS Fay welcomes me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Yesterday a friend and I spent the day running around shopping. At WalMart there were a bazillion people, and apparently they all felt a compulsive urge to buy bottled water, coolers, flashlights and batteries. Kinda reminded me of Black Friday shoppers right before Y2K LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Tropical Storm Fay is predicted to become Hurricane Fay in the next few hours. This apparently forecasts the end of the world as we knew it in SW Florida! Since when did a hurricane become equal to the end of the world? Isn't a hurricane just a thunderstorm on really good steriods? If I lived thru the Blizzard of 77 and apparently survived, am I supposed to be worried about Fay? As far as I can see, the worst thing that could happen is no electric for a day... aka no tv, radio, or god-forbid Internet access.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Is everyone else over reacting or am I denying that this could be a problem? I thought I had a handle on it until I woke-up around 3am last night worrying about this. Goofy worries too. 'Do I have enough bread?', 'What if the wind is too strong for me to hold onto Maxx?', 'Where can I put my laptop that is hurricane safe?'. None of these are really rational worries if a hurricane really is something that equals disaster, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I guess my conern is becoming, am I right, or am I in denial?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I'll report back when Fay goes away and see who's right... me or everyone else...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-3474752547015461205?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/3474752547015461205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=3474752547015461205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3474752547015461205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3474752547015461205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/ts-fay-welcomes-me.html' title='TS Fay welcomes me'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-3304692065810275535</id><published>2008-08-13T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T16:38:34.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Work Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Well, it's time to get ready to stay up all night again!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I shouldn't complain about my job: how many people can have a job where they don't have to drive there, where you take the dog, and get paid to read / watch tv / watch dvd's all night? I'd like to say the hardest part of my job is staying awake all night, but that's not the whole story. The hardest part of my job is dealing with complete and utter boredom!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I MISS using my brain!!! I feel like my brain is turing to mush. Everyone says I should get one of those 'work from home on your computer' jobs to do while I'm oh-so-busy staying awake all night, but the only ones I seem to find when I look on the net are pretty much the internet version of stuffing envelopes. Ideally I'd like to find a job where I did bookkeeping 'at home'!! I like working with numbers and it's something I could do for the 8 hours I'm up anyhow. Anyone know of a bookkeeping from home job... PLEASE feel free to contact me LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My 'job' is where I live. We're a gated, private country club and I work at the front gate from 11pm till 7am four nights a week. The timing couldn't have been better, because I got offered the job less than a week after the transmission died in the van. So while I'm dealing with not having a car, at least I'm able to get to work!! Maxx and I pile in the golf cart around 10:30pm and head 'to work'. He actually seems to get exchited about it. When I say 'it's time to go to work Maxx' he jumps up and runs to the garage door. He does do alot more than sleep under the counter at my feet all night long, but at least I don't have to leave him home alone all night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;There's not alot of people to deal with between 11pm and 3 or 4am. Then the newspaper delivery people start showing up. Maxx used to wake up and get all 'frisky' when he'd hear me talking to someone outside, now he just barely lifts his head. He doesn't wake up till 5:30am when the guy who unlocks the community lodge comes to get the keys. You aught to meet this guy! He's like 90 years old, and has been unlocking the 'community' at 5:30am for the last 8 years! He does this 7 days a week, 365 days a year. He says he likes it and he feels like he's doing something vs 'being retired' and he likes to start his day 'productively'!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;I tend to show up for work around 30 minutes early, and sady I can't say the same for the people who releive me in the mornings. They tend to show up more like 5 minutes to 7am. Maxx has figured out that when the 'key guy' shows up it's getting 'close' to time to go home. He goes out, then comes in and wants to cuddle for a bit. When the sun starts to lighten the sky he wants out again, then he goes straight to the golf cart!!! To him the sun means it's time to go home LOL! I have to convince him to come back 'inside' for about another half-hour or so till our relief shows up. When he hears their golfcart stop infront of the gate-shack he starts jumping at me and goes out the door and jumps into his 'car seat' in the golf cart. He's ready to call it a day LOL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;It's not a hard job, and it's got alot of perks for me right now, but being bored is starting to get to me. Oh well, I guess there has to be some price to living in Paradise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-3304692065810275535?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/3304692065810275535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=3304692065810275535&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3304692065810275535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/3304692065810275535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/work-night.html' title='Work Night'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-5784660536042404500</id><published>2008-08-11T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T12:00:00.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I moved away from Ohio back in February of this year. Quiet honestly, sometimes I miss it! It's soooo hot here in the Summer that I miss the 'coolness' of Ohio evenings LOL! I know I'm going to miss seeing all the Autumn colors in October, it was always my favorite time of year. I'll probably miss that first time in April when you're outside and suddenly it dawns on you that there's COLOR again! You get so used to a color palete of white (snow), gray (snow mixed with 'salt' on the side of the road), and brown (anything that isn't white or gray), that it's an amazing moment when you suddenly notice things have a tinge of green again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, I live in Paradise!!! The average temp in February here is in the mid 70's!!! Arriving here via plane in the Winter is like when Dorothy opened the door to OZ! Suddenly you're overwhelmed by alllll the different colors and how vibrant they are! To see flowers in full-bloom, to pluck a ripe orange (or lemon or grapefruit) off a tree on New Years Eve... it's great!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even the sunsets here are 'different' than they are up north...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCJ8LJTqLI/AAAAAAAAABE/paldXKgHOEg/s1600-h/1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233334433881499826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCJ8LJTqLI/AAAAAAAAABE/paldXKgHOEg/s320/1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCKN_CGqxI/AAAAAAAAABU/X83dige9sS0/s1600-h/1b.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233334739867708178" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCKN_CGqxI/AAAAAAAAABU/X83dige9sS0/s320/1b.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you never know what you're going to see when you look out the window...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did you know tree-frogs make noise??? A really obnoxious noise LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCKm_E3LGI/AAAAAAAAABc/MutPS1Va_YU/s1600-h/2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233335169376005218" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCKm_E3LGI/AAAAAAAAABc/MutPS1Va_YU/s320/2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This guy's in my front yard...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCK3VSc3-I/AAAAAAAAABk/f1GMARQffPg/s1600-h/3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233335450216488930" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCK3VSc3-I/AAAAAAAAABk/f1GMARQffPg/s320/3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there's always a favorite form of recreation LOL...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCLRdc98DI/AAAAAAAAABs/LlHO3o6loa0/s1600-h/1a.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233335899084681266" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCLRdc98DI/AAAAAAAAABs/LlHO3o6loa0/s320/1a.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Yeah, there's definately worse places to live!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-5784660536042404500?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/5784660536042404500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=5784660536042404500&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5784660536042404500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/5784660536042404500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SKCJ8LJTqLI/AAAAAAAAABE/paldXKgHOEg/s72-c/1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-446716650026705830</id><published>2008-08-11T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T06:44:25.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My old blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I miss my old blog this morning. For some reason I want to go back and re-read the posts about how good things were between J and I. I want to go back and remember when things were at their best, when I didn't feel alone and like I was going to feel this way for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm heading 'north' the week of Labor Day to visit friends and then drive my mom back home. Mom has neuothopy in her feet, so while she can drive, she can't drive for more than on hour or two without her feet/calves going numb. Personally I feel better for everyone else on the road if my mom's not on the highway driving with numb feet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I'm heading back in 3 weeks, and while I'm really looking forward to getting to spend some time visiting (aka shopping my heart out and eating out) with my friends, it's been eating at me that I'll be 'right there' where J is. I flip minute to minute on whether or not to contact him, to see him, so even let him know I'm in the neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it will help me think clearly if I just put it down here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yes, see him...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* just show up at his work. Walk in and surprise him. He'll be so shocked to see me he'll run over and pull me into his arms. He'll tell me how much he regrets ending us and ask me to take him back. Definately the least likely senerio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* call him from his work parking lot and say "hey, wanna take a girl out to dinner?". Then tell him where I am and hear him be happy he's going to get to see me. We go out to dinner and he tells me how he misses me, and I tell him how while it hurt, I'm glad it ended and I've moved on. This one would be a dinner with a huge serving of lies for dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* same as above, but I lead him on during dinner and when he goes to kiss me in the parking lot I slap him across the face and tell him what a wuss I think he was/is for the way he handled things and that I never want to see/hear from him again. Not my style, but makes me wish it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No, I don't see him...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* this ones pretty cut and dry. I don't call, I don't let him know I'm in the neighborhood. I spend the entire time I'm up north debating whether to call or not. My biggest concern with this one is that I'll get back down here and regret not having made the call. It's been almost 6 months, aren't I supposed to be past feeling this way yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I know me, I'll do nothing now and do something (or not do something) spontanious while there. I'll really only have one day when I will have the car and time to do any of the above 'yes' things, so hopefully I'll be so busy and happy that when the thought to call/show up crosses my mind it will be late enough the choice will be made for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, does it eventually get easier? I sure hope so!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-446716650026705830?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/446716650026705830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=446716650026705830&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/446716650026705830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/446716650026705830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-old-blog.html' title='My old blog'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8475423214272102402</id><published>2008-08-10T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T12:58:05.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My favorite male</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SJ9HZW4ct6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0pHEbFTZPEE/s1600-h/Maxx++June+2008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232979792992450466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SJ9HZW4ct6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0pHEbFTZPEE/s320/Maxx++June+2008.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;This is Maxx! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;He's definately the most favored male in my life at this time LOL! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;He gives unconditional kisses, is always thrilled to see me come home, and doesn't take up too much of the bed at night (and he doesn't say I snore either!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;What more could a woman want? WEG!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8475423214272102402?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8475423214272102402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8475423214272102402&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8475423214272102402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8475423214272102402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-favorite-male.html' title='My favorite male'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SJ9HZW4ct6I/AAAAAAAAAAM/0pHEbFTZPEE/s72-c/Maxx++June+2008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7942528785949314733.post-8252394921761096302</id><published>2008-08-10T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T12:40:29.669-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='greeting'/><title type='text'>Blog names are tough!!!</title><content type='html'>You would think that coming up with a name for a blog would be pretty easy... NOT! Thinking up the name is easy, having it be avialable is down-right tough! 'Dear Diary' was taken, 'Just another day in paradise' was already used, even the name of my old blog with another server was gone!!! Soooo, when in doubt, go back to what most people know you as already, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had another blog, and I poured my heart and soul into it. But the relationship it was designed to help me with is over, so maybe having that blog disappear was fates way of telling me to start over in more ways than one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My intention with this blog is to have someplace where I can spill my innermost worries, thoughts, joys, concerns, hopes... and just a bunch of boring stuff sometimes LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE respond here! I had alot of hits on my old blog, but very few comments. This time it would be really nice to know I'm not alone out here in cyberland :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7942528785949314733-8252394921761096302?l=heartzlady.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/feeds/8252394921761096302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7942528785949314733&amp;postID=8252394921761096302&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8252394921761096302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7942528785949314733/posts/default/8252394921761096302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartzlady.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-names-are-tough.html' title='Blog names are tough!!!'/><author><name>Heartzlady</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04725192870022215635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LOGi1KvDIoM/SvIyeS-sSRI/AAAAAAAAAM8/DbSGvyoojLc/S220/dododo.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
