<?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-6560344559849436892</id><updated>2011-08-01T11:30:17.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>merely miranda</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-3605178861891141559</id><published>2010-10-31T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T13:35:11.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abridged</title><content type='html'>Transfixed in a quiet, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tenebrous&lt;/span&gt; moment&lt;div&gt;composing the melody of  Someday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;with vision obscured by irresolution,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;fingers bound by cynicism,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and judgement expressing more rapidly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;than the listless cadence&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;of the wounded heart it's directing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not comprised of dreams from the night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;brought into the light,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nor as wishes murmured,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to be satisfied in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;roborant&lt;/span&gt; unity,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But as dolorous inevitability,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;compiled and set now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;by blinded, bound, and wavering action.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to the rhythm of exhaled breaths&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and the melody of Someday,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Blink now the hesitation and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;saturated Moonbeams from your eyes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and rise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-3605178861891141559?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/3605178861891141559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=3605178861891141559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/3605178861891141559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/3605178861891141559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2010/10/abridged.html' title='Abridged'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-5848099833684694493</id><published>2010-01-01T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T13:59:06.851-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love=</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sz5wDaEBuOI/AAAAAAAAANA/N7dArx42WRc/s1600-h/Photo+on+2010-12-28+at+20.35.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sz5wDaEBuOI/AAAAAAAAANA/N7dArx42WRc/s400/Photo+on+2010-12-28+at+20.35.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421894205238786274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-5848099833684694493?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/5848099833684694493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=5848099833684694493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5848099833684694493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5848099833684694493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2010/01/love.html' title='Love='/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sz5wDaEBuOI/AAAAAAAAANA/N7dArx42WRc/s72-c/Photo+on+2010-12-28+at+20.35.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7406111854950784662</id><published>2009-12-02T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T20:39:30.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply, numbers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Here I love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The moon glows like phosphorus on the vagrant waters.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The snow unfurls in dancing figures.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A silver gull slips down from the west. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh the black cross of a ship.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alone.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Far away the sea sounds and resounds.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This is a port.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here I love you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love you still among these cold things.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;that cross the sea toward no arrival.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love what I do not have. You are so far.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My loathing wrestles with the slow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;twilights&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But night comes and starts to sing to me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The moon turns its clockwork dream.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And as I love you, the pines in the wind&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pablo Neruda&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(translated by W.S. Merwin)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7406111854950784662?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7406111854950784662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7406111854950784662' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7406111854950784662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7406111854950784662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/12/simply-numbers.html' title='Simply, numbers.'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7194084346619535277</id><published>2009-10-24T09:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T19:14:44.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>janus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"All shall be well, and all shall be well, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and all manner of thing[s] shall be well." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Julian of Norwich&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I read this quote a couple of days ago &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(in an extremely strange magazine that someone brought to work that had crazy Gothic clothes and some crazier...um..."toys". Guess this proves you can find inspiration in all sorts of places). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It has kind of become a mantra for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I even painted it on the wall in my living room. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I like it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I suppose the reason it struck a chord is because &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my life has been in a constant state of upheaval for the last few months. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm typically a positive, hopeful person...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've found it increasingly difficult &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;to keep my attitude and focus on the upside lately. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;BUT...good news for me--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Time moves ever forward. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The scenery changes quickly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As a person adamantly opposed to living a monotonous life, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm grateful for this certainty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The changes can be as refreshing as rain &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(and we all know how much I love rain). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm learning to adjust my stride to move along with &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the alternating crawling and sprinting of life...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;always in the process of learning that necessary skill. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It's been a season of transitions for me and my little loves. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I sent my youngest to Pre-K this year &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(seriously...talk about time moving ever forward. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;At an incredibly furious pace. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Didn't I &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; bring him home from the hospital?? Yikes.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That, added to a few other big changes, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nudged me into the "8-to-5" world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I started this new phase of my life...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;my great "professionalism" adventure, last Monday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am finally using the degree that I am [still!] paying for...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am Jackson County's newest Child Welfare Specialist. Yipee. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Truthfully, excruciatingly boring training videos, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;books, and online courses aside, I really am enjoying my job. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And exciting news for my Norman/Oklahoma City friends...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll be spending a large amount of time on the OU campus &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;for job training over the next couple of months. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm going to have to insist that you kidnap me from my hotel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Especially if there is some sort of dining experience involved :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;IHOP, did you say?? Absolutely!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Packing my old daily cleaning/maintenance routine into the weekend days is not as difficult as I imagined it would be. On Saturday I cleaned my entire house, mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, did my normal workout, and carved pumpkins with the boys. (Superwoman? Yes I am...haha.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;All the while, chanting my new mantra &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7194084346619535277?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7194084346619535277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7194084346619535277' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7194084346619535277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7194084346619535277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/10/janus.html' title='janus'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7212403772048780119</id><published>2009-07-31T07:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T08:33:28.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adumbrate</title><content type='html'>For all the cool people that come check out my blog during the moments in their life that are so boring they have nothing better to do:&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading. :)&lt;br /&gt;and,&lt;br /&gt;I'll be posting some new blogs soon. I've been uninspired lately...unmotivated, unaccomplished, undisciplined, unaccepted, unfocused, uneven, unbecoming, unbraced, ungraceful, unclear, unloveable, unconvinced, untuned, unwanted, unwise...a bad case of the "un-"s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently realized that I tend to live my life in an ellipsis.&lt;br /&gt;And you'll get to read the rest of that revelation soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So keep coming back. I won't leave you hanging forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time...the in-between time,&lt;br /&gt;My love to you...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7212403772048780119?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7212403772048780119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7212403772048780119' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7212403772048780119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7212403772048780119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/07/adumbrate.html' title='Adumbrate'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-5660689451404710326</id><published>2009-07-17T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T12:28:39.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpt...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;from my newest thoughts inspired by unintended silence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's safe to say&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder what would be&lt;br /&gt;if the refusal&lt;br /&gt;that stands ready in my mind&lt;br /&gt;near thoughts of you&lt;br /&gt;and dreams that breathe life into wishes&lt;br /&gt;simply slid away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-5660689451404710326?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/5660689451404710326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=5660689451404710326' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5660689451404710326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5660689451404710326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/07/excerpt.html' title='Excerpt...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-5065635895165922570</id><published>2009-07-12T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T11:08:40.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the stars</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The story always ends in tragedy...&lt;br /&gt;just as it was written to end.&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of this inevitability, each time the scene plays&lt;br /&gt;I hold my breath on a hope&lt;br /&gt;that he'll see the slight movement of her hand&lt;br /&gt;before he drinks the poison...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DXtiqJCzgHs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x402061&amp;amp;color2=0x9461ca"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DXtiqJCzgHs&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x402061&amp;amp;color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-5065635895165922570?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/5065635895165922570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=5065635895165922570' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5065635895165922570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5065635895165922570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-stars.html' title='In the stars'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-4343386768430165655</id><published>2009-07-04T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T21:33:49.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Caveat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"These violent delights have violent ends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Is loathsome in his own deliciousness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And in the taste confounds the appetite:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Too swift arrives tardy as too slow."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friar Laurence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Romeo and Juliet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-4343386768430165655?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/4343386768430165655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=4343386768430165655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4343386768430165655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4343386768430165655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/07/caveat.html' title='Caveat'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-8441813719629364523</id><published>2009-06-23T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T11:31:24.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's own antonym...</title><content type='html'>I've always thought the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cleave&lt;/span&gt; slightly odd...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To adhere firmly and closely or loyally and unwaveringly" is one definition.&lt;br /&gt;But the same word, same spelling also means&lt;br /&gt;"To divide by or as if by a cutting blow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that somethin'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been into Pablo lately.&lt;br /&gt;Here is another of his poems in which I find pieces of me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I want you to know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;one thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You know how this is:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if I look&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at the crystal moon, at the red branch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;of the slow autumn at my window, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if I touch &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;near the fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the impalpable ash&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or the wrinkled body of the log,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything carries me to you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;as if everything that exists,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;aromas, light, metals,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were little boats &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that sail&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;toward those isles of yours that wait for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well now,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if little by little you stop loving me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I shall stop loving you little by little.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If suddenly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you forget me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do not look for me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for I shall already have forgotten you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If you think it long and mad, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the wind of banners&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that passes through my life,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and you decide&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to leave me at the shore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;of the heart where I have roots,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;remember&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that on that day,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at that hour,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I shall lift my arms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and my roots will set off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to seek another land.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if each day,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;each hour,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you feel that you are destined for me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with implacable sweetness,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if each day a flower &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;climbs up to your lips to seek me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ah my love, ah my own,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in me all that fire is repeated,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my love feeds on your love, beloved,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and as long as you live it will be in your arms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;without leaving mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;If You Forget Me&lt;br /&gt;Pablo Neruda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-8441813719629364523?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/8441813719629364523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=8441813719629364523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/8441813719629364523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/8441813719629364523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-own-antonym.html' title='It&apos;s own antonym...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-9151928512260751714</id><published>2009-06-11T20:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T20:18:52.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diecisiete</title><content type='html'>No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio&lt;br /&gt;o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:&lt;br /&gt;te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,&lt;br /&gt;secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva&lt;br /&gt;dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,&lt;br /&gt;y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo&lt;br /&gt;el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,&lt;br /&gt;te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:&lt;br /&gt;así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,&lt;br /&gt;tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,&lt;br /&gt;tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pablo Neruda,  Soneto XVII&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I don't speak fluent spanish, unfortunately, but I imagine some of the feeling is lost in translation. Still, the translated version is incredibly beautiful and worthy of a google.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-9151928512260751714?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/9151928512260751714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=9151928512260751714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/9151928512260751714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/9151928512260751714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/06/diecisiete_11.html' title='Diecisiete'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-1973648833173135719</id><published>2009-06-10T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T22:52:09.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Belonging</title><content type='html'>With a small pang of trepidation,&lt;br /&gt;(oh, the ache of misgivings)&lt;br /&gt;I placed it in your open palm,&lt;br /&gt;and saw it cupped gently there.&lt;br /&gt;Lifting the hand closer to your face&lt;br /&gt;your eyes widened,&lt;br /&gt;as if by widening they could capture more vividly&lt;br /&gt;the delight in that fragile moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your lips curved up softly...&lt;br /&gt;a smile slowly bloomed&lt;br /&gt;like the petals of the morning glory,&lt;br /&gt;until the light from it matched&lt;br /&gt;the light in already shining eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You glanced up at me...&lt;br /&gt;so very briefly&lt;br /&gt;with an absent recollection that you were not alone&lt;br /&gt;with the loveliness you held.&lt;br /&gt;I caught a flicker of joyful gratitude in the look,&lt;br /&gt;but my face could not hold your attention&lt;br /&gt;and back to the pulse all concentration was drawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delicately, you curled long fingers up&lt;br /&gt;then over&lt;br /&gt;in an innocent attempt to protect&lt;br /&gt;that which was placed in your care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your breath quickened,&lt;br /&gt;heartbeat steadily increased&lt;br /&gt;pounding out a pleasure-rhythm&lt;br /&gt;felt all the way in my core...&lt;br /&gt;so close I was to you.&lt;br /&gt;Forgotten, I stood,&lt;br /&gt;but enchanted by your fascination&lt;br /&gt;I forgot myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tender fingers gradually tightened;&lt;br /&gt;you didn't want to drop it&lt;br /&gt;for fear your heartbeat would level&lt;br /&gt;and the vitalizing buzz racing&lt;br /&gt;through your veins would still.&lt;br /&gt;Just a little firmer you gripped&lt;br /&gt;not wanting the radiance to be&lt;br /&gt;greedily gulped by a nearby wanderer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Justified in your mind,&lt;br /&gt;you curled tighter&lt;br /&gt;that self-made haven&lt;br /&gt;until nails scored tiny slivered moons into skin.&lt;br /&gt;To be certain the risk of losing the new possession&lt;br /&gt;had been eliminated,&lt;br /&gt;you pressed the hardened fist to your chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, your attention was mine...&lt;br /&gt;the pieces left, anyway,&lt;br /&gt;for your mind was divided&lt;br /&gt;and a bigger portion was inside that palm,&lt;br /&gt;resting serenely, you believed,&lt;br /&gt;with the pulse of a desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We exchanged words...&lt;br /&gt;none of which mattered;&lt;br /&gt;I knew what you wished&lt;br /&gt;and I was not it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, desperately fiening for the high,&lt;br /&gt;aching with sighs to reunite,&lt;br /&gt;you unclenched defenses&lt;br /&gt;and found nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Remember,"&lt;br /&gt;I whispered.&lt;br /&gt;"Don't lock it away&lt;br /&gt;only to be enjoyed in small moments&lt;br /&gt;then wounded by the crushing weight of your fear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And raising my hand&lt;br /&gt;with no reservations&lt;br /&gt;I released the gift&lt;br /&gt;back into yours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-1973648833173135719?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/1973648833173135719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=1973648833173135719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1973648833173135719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1973648833173135719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/06/belonging.html' title='Belonging'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-4398860007791422147</id><published>2009-06-09T05:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T06:02:23.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>abstraction</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;If I were a painter, I would paint my reverie&lt;br /&gt;If that's the only way for you to be with me.&lt;br /&gt;We'd be there together, just like we used to be&lt;br /&gt;Underneath the swirling skies for all to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm dreaming of a place&lt;br /&gt;where I could see your face&lt;br /&gt;And I think my brush would take me there...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But only if I were a painter&lt;br /&gt;And could paint a memory.&lt;br /&gt;I'd climb inside the swirling skies to be with you...&lt;br /&gt;I'd climb inside the skies to be with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Painter Song&lt;br /&gt;by Norah Jones&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/6560344559849436892-4398860007791422147?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/4398860007791422147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=4398860007791422147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4398860007791422147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4398860007791422147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/06/abstraction.html' title='abstraction'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-2709338996582599565</id><published>2009-06-07T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T15:09:22.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Confess, your kiss still knocks me off my legs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The first time I saw you was like a punch right through my chest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and I will forever, 'cause you'll forever be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my one true broken heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pieces inside of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and you'll forever my baby be."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's always got the words...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"...goodbye my love, into your blue, blue eyes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;your blue, blue world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you're my baby blue."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My Baby Blue&lt;br /&gt;by Dave Matthews Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-2709338996582599565?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/2709338996582599565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=2709338996582599565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2709338996582599565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2709338996582599565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/06/confess-your-kiss-still-knocks-me-off.html' title=''/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-5647978995203018853</id><published>2009-05-29T23:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T00:00:12.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"...but I see beauty there always"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I felt incredibly spoiled today.&lt;br /&gt;I'm convinced that Washington knew I was coming,&lt;br /&gt;and in a gesture of welcome&lt;br /&gt;gave me the perfect late spring/early summer day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept poorly last night.&lt;br /&gt;I felt a bit like a small child on Christmas Eve...&lt;br /&gt;far too excited for morning to come to get any sleep.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as the sun came up, I was outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started the day with a jog at the lake two blocks from my dad's house.&lt;br /&gt;(Didn't really run...too caught up in snapping pictures.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This was my morning view.&lt;br /&gt;Beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDR88yrDaI/AAAAAAAAAMg/OBBHf6wKPU0/s1600-h/may+%2709+140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDR88yrDaI/AAAAAAAAAMg/OBBHf6wKPU0/s400/may+%2709+140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341500003102428578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRf_It2QI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/xjCrsxfnAaU/s1600-h/may+%2709+151.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRf_It2QI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/xjCrsxfnAaU/s400/may+%2709+151.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341499505515550978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm pretty much in love with this neighborhood...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRfpjdpRI/AAAAAAAAAMI/89HRDvzA3DU/s1600-h/may+%2709+152.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRfpjdpRI/AAAAAAAAAMI/89HRDvzA3DU/s400/may+%2709+152.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341499499722155282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After dinner, Grandy took the boys fishing while I ran.&lt;br /&gt;(Had to make up for the lack of running this morning.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRfJ2IZVI/AAAAAAAAAMA/_jjO8wr2zas/s1600-h/may+%2709+103+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRfJ2IZVI/AAAAAAAAAMA/_jjO8wr2zas/s400/may+%2709+103+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341499491210519890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRe-O9VcI/AAAAAAAAAL4/778c7Ksi92A/s1600-h/may+%2709+104+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRe-O9VcI/AAAAAAAAAL4/778c7Ksi92A/s400/may+%2709+104+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341499488093427138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRemoptjI/AAAAAAAAALw/E7XQuWvOFfs/s1600-h/may+%2709+111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDRemoptjI/AAAAAAAAALw/E7XQuWvOFfs/s400/may+%2709+111.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341499481758742066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I ended the day on my dad's huge front porch,&lt;br /&gt;listening to some Azure Ray and breathing in the cool night air.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously...perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-5647978995203018853?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/5647978995203018853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=5647978995203018853' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5647978995203018853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5647978995203018853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/but-i-see-beauty-there-always.html' title='&quot;...but I see beauty there always&quot;'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SiDR88yrDaI/AAAAAAAAAMg/OBBHf6wKPU0/s72-c/may+%2709+140.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-6327540747484178635</id><published>2009-05-29T07:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T13:21:57.898-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My other home...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Washington!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's been WAY too long since I've been here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camden and Dylan's first time in the sky...&lt;br /&gt;They were very well-behaved.&lt;br /&gt;Right as we were taking off, I asked Camden if he felt afraid.&lt;br /&gt;He said "Well, no. For goodness sake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09OiHZEI/AAAAAAAAALY/bcQ5SO74CdE/s1600-h/may+%2709+135+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09OiHZEI/AAAAAAAAALY/bcQ5SO74CdE/s320/may+%2709+135+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257015795082306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09b9ZKHI/AAAAAAAAALg/c5Z1HtDWUeo/s1600-h/may+%2709+136+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09b9ZKHI/AAAAAAAAALg/c5Z1HtDWUeo/s320/may+%2709+136+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257019399153778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Grandy" (my dad) greeting us at the airport...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09u95l2I/AAAAAAAAALo/7YNYCy1_yPg/s1600-h/may+%2709+147.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09u95l2I/AAAAAAAAALo/7YNYCy1_yPg/s320/may+%2709+147.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341257024501552994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-6327540747484178635?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/6327540747484178635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=6327540747484178635' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/6327540747484178635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/6327540747484178635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-other-home.html' title='My other home...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sh_09OiHZEI/AAAAAAAAALY/bcQ5SO74CdE/s72-c/may+%2709+135+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-2567554822977550427</id><published>2009-05-21T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T17:42:36.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mnemosyne</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"We lay aside letters never to read them again, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and at last we destroy them out of discretion, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and so disappears the most beautiful, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the most immediate breath of life,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;irrecoverable for ourselves and for others."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Johann Wolfgang von Goethe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Destroying nostalgia&lt;br /&gt;is something I never do&lt;br /&gt;I'm far too sentimental&lt;br /&gt;Probably excessively so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Time is a panacea,&lt;br /&gt;a charmer...a changer...&lt;br /&gt;a re-writer of emotions and a healer of grief.&lt;br /&gt;I'm stubborn, impatient, and prefer to be&lt;br /&gt;the enchantress rather than the enchanted...&lt;br /&gt;so I have to swollow more of the magical elixir of time.&lt;br /&gt;The overly sweet flavor isn't generally something I enjoy&lt;br /&gt;Alas, the necessity to breathe is compelling.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, if only a spoonful is all it took.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what you use...&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll buy it next time.&lt;br /&gt;For most certainly there will be a next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And until then, I won't be the one to erase &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"the most beautiful, the most immediate breath of life..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll just pack it away...&lt;br /&gt;save it for my favorite rainy day...&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/6560344559849436892-2567554822977550427?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/2567554822977550427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=2567554822977550427' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2567554822977550427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2567554822977550427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/muse.html' title='Mnemosyne'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-2005491134786012855</id><published>2009-05-18T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T21:09:57.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye 37</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Grey Street&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;by Dave Matthews Band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh look at how she listens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She says nothing of what she thinks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She just goes stumbling through her memories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Staring out on to Grey Street&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She thinks, "Hey,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How did I come to this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I dream myself a million times around the world,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But I can't get out of this place"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's a loneliness inside her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And she'd do anything to fill it in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But all the colors mix together, to grey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And it breaks her heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How she wishes it was different&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She prays to God most every night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And though she knows well He doesn't listen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's still a hope in her He might&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She says, "I pray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But my prayers, they fall on deaf ears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Am I supposed to take it on myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To get out of this place?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's a loneliness inside her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And she'd do anything to fill it in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And though it's red blood bleeding from her now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It feels like cold blue ice in her heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When all the colors mix together, to grey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And it breaks her heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She hears the voices, they're outside her door&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Saying take what you can from your dreams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Make them as real as anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It'd take the work out of courage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But she says, "Please&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's a crazy man that's creeping outside my door,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I live on the corner of Grey Street&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and the end of the world"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's an emptiness inside her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And she'd do anything to fill it in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And though it's red blood bleeding from her now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It felt like cold blue ice in her heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She feels like kicking out all the windows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And setting fire to this life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She could change everything about her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;using colors bold and bright&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But all the colors mix together, to grey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And it breaks her heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It breaks her heart, to grey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/d29bwpqVbfU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/d29bwpqVbfU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/6560344559849436892-2005491134786012855?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/2005491134786012855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=2005491134786012855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2005491134786012855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2005491134786012855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/oh-look-at-how-she-listens-she-says_18.html' title='Goodbye 37'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-143405533520380257</id><published>2009-05-17T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T12:02:49.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mark Twain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-143405533520380257?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/143405533520380257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=143405533520380257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/143405533520380257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/143405533520380257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/words-are-only-painted-fire-look-is.html' title=''/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7554408094578385623</id><published>2009-05-14T13:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T14:53:06.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Airplanes.&lt;br /&gt;Always fun for little kids.&lt;br /&gt;We had an end of the year [End of the year! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt;! See me doing my dance??] field trip for our group at the church today. We took the little ones on a KC-135. Twenty 3 &amp;amp; 4 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;...running wild on a tanker. Luckily, we had a few spare pilots hanging around to make sure they didn't fall out of the plane.&lt;br /&gt;Kidding.&lt;br /&gt;Kinda.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The plane, with Dylan looking on. He was very excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEWi8ABwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/KfqBza1RPZ8/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEWi8ABwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/KfqBza1RPZ8/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785181397649154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is Liam. He is one of Dylan's best friends.&lt;br /&gt;Together, they're nothing but trouble.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEW8us0fI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/eAl-qxM4ydU/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEW8us0fI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/eAl-qxM4ydU/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785188321186290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan and Liam, climbing the steps to board...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEXDtMO9I/AAAAAAAAAJY/1dGlV6VrdY8/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEXDtMO9I/AAAAAAAAAJY/1dGlV6VrdY8/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785190193904594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan's very first stop was the pilot's seat.&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;He got in there before anyone else had a chance...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEXWEue-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/ARiDIYDQhkY/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEXWEue-I/AAAAAAAAAJg/ARiDIYDQhkY/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785195124456418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he got his shot at boom operating...&lt;br /&gt;without actually operating the boom, obviously...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEXZIq7gI/AAAAAAAAAJo/eem0pZ-T-1E/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+017+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 281px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEXZIq7gI/AAAAAAAAAJo/eem0pZ-T-1E/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+017+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785195946307074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...but not for lack of trying. He was, in this moment,&lt;br /&gt;attempting to convince Clint to open the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFhp6R7NI/AAAAAAAAAJw/0MEvdULNe3k/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFhp6R7NI/AAAAAAAAAJw/0MEvdULNe3k/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786471759670482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After everyone got their chance at the pilot's seat and the boom, we took them to the life support division to check out the parachutes, night vision goggles, and life rafts. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFh1UwStI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/LFwjST0K5eo/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFh1UwStI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/LFwjST0K5eo/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786474823502546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When we finished the tour of life support, we ordered the box lunches that the pilots eat and took the kids to the park for a picnic. (I didn't take pictures of that...I was busy feeding children. Craziness, there. They all wanted to skip the sandwiches and go straight for the kitkats.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clint scored wings and patches for all of the kiddos...&lt;br /&gt;(how exciting is that for a 3/4 year old?!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan was awfully proud.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFhz23S6I/AAAAAAAAAKA/Z4YGssp3GI4/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+033+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFhz23S6I/AAAAAAAAAKA/Z4YGssp3GI4/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+033+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786474429696930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Camden didn't get to go on this field trip, because he's in big boy school.&lt;br /&gt;But he did get a pair of wings and a patch.&lt;br /&gt;He was awarded "most curious student" of his class this year.&lt;br /&gt;Is it at all obvious why??&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFjWW5PHI/AAAAAAAAAKI/-s4DMCkKyM8/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+034+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFjWW5PHI/AAAAAAAAAKI/-s4DMCkKyM8/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+034+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786500870716530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFjvktjcI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/cPDp4XY5T-4/s1600-h/base+field+trip,+mdo+037+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyFjvktjcI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/cPDp4XY5T-4/s320/base+field+trip,+mdo+037+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786507639557570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan's decided he's going to fly a plane one day...so that's nice :\&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad he's only four,&lt;br /&gt;and has several years before he will actually make that choice...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But overall, fun day.&lt;br /&gt;Definitely something out of our norm...&lt;br /&gt;which is always welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7554408094578385623?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7554408094578385623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7554408094578385623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7554408094578385623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7554408094578385623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/airplanes.html' title=''/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SgyEWi8ABwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/KfqBza1RPZ8/s72-c/base+field+trip,+mdo+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-6055917812955872313</id><published>2009-05-12T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T20:52:32.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams."</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I had a dream a few nights ago that I went back in time...&lt;br /&gt;Like, faaar back. Back to the '50s/'60s&lt;br /&gt;(ish. Poodle skirts and bubble gum).&lt;br /&gt;I was in a classroom of high school students.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone was sans color, except for me and my ipod.&lt;br /&gt;Yes...the only thing I had with me was my music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was sharing it with all of the cool kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This wasn't the music I was sharing with them. That was rap of some sort. This is what I'm wanting to share with you...a little Otis always makes me smile.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; margin-left: auto; visibility: visible; margin-right: auto; width: 450px;"&gt; &lt;object data="http://www.profileplaylist.net/mc/mp3player_new.swf?config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_site_noautostart.xml&amp;amp;mywidth=435&amp;amp;myheight=270&amp;amp;playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Floadplaylist.php%3Fplaylist%3D2489847%26t%3D1242185758&amp;amp;wid=os" width="435" height="270"&gt; &lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#e8e8e8"&gt; &lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.profileplaylist.net/mc/mp3player_new.swf?config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_site_noautostart.xml&amp;amp;mywidth=435&amp;amp;myheight=270&amp;amp;playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Floadplaylist.php%3Fplaylist%3D2489847%26t%3D1242185758&amp;amp;wid=os"&gt; &lt;/object&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-6055917812955872313?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/6055917812955872313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=6055917812955872313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/6055917812955872313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/6055917812955872313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/we-are-music-makers-and-we-are-dreamers.html' title='&quot;We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.&quot;'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7549621547856977629</id><published>2009-05-07T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T15:58:08.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Every feeling and emotion experienced&lt;br /&gt;has been expressed in lyrics and spun into a beat.&lt;br /&gt;It's true.&lt;br /&gt;You'll always be able to find&lt;br /&gt;the best company in songs.&lt;br /&gt;I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My "music soul mate" (haha)&lt;br /&gt;reminded me of a great song just yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;It's been playing in my head ever since...&lt;br /&gt;it's good company to my melancholy&lt;br /&gt;(as Damien's songs often are)&lt;br /&gt;and some of the words run alongside my thoughts&lt;br /&gt;nearly perfectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cannonball &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;by Damien Rice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's still a little hard to say what's going on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's still a little bit of your ghost, your witness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Still a little bit of your face that I haven't kissed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You step a little closer to me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so close that I can't see what's going on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stones taught me to fly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And love, it taught me to lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Life taught me to die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So it's not hard to fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you float like a cannonball&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Still a little bit of your song in my ear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Still a little bit of your words that I long to hear&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You step a little closer each day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so close that I can't say what's going on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Cause stones taught me to fly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And love, it taught me to lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Life taught me to die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So it's not hard to fall &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;when you float like a cannon...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stones taught me to fly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And love, it just taught me to lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So come on courage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Teach me to be shy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'cause it's not hard to fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I don't want to scare her&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's not hard to fall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I don't wanna lose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's not hard to grow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When you know that you just, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you don't know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lJbz5HaKCJc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lJbz5HaKCJc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7549621547856977629?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7549621547856977629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7549621547856977629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7549621547856977629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7549621547856977629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/05/every-feeling-and-emotion-experienced.html' title=''/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-685540029181835349</id><published>2009-04-25T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T12:21:41.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evidence...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I believe the fingerprints on every wall, mirror, and window&lt;br /&gt;in my house and car shout [very clearly] "I'm here!"...&lt;br /&gt;I can hear Camden and Dylan's cute little voices&lt;br /&gt;and laughter every time I erase a print with Windex.&lt;br /&gt;I remind myself, as I'm in a constant state of scrubbing,&lt;br /&gt;that there will come a time when I'll wipe the last one away&lt;br /&gt; and it won't be replaced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to capture this particular "shout" with my camera.&lt;br /&gt;I knew who put it there. It was Dylan.&lt;br /&gt;His little hand is still red from the marker...haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2Jfqt1I/AAAAAAAAAIg/tmgQA39q8a0/s1600-h/spring+%2709+031+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2Jfqt1I/AAAAAAAAAIg/tmgQA39q8a0/s400/spring+%2709+031+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328709267487373138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I called him over to ask him if the handprint belonged to him.&lt;br /&gt;He carefully inspected it,&lt;br /&gt;placing his pudgy fingers over it for comparison...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2r3toaI/AAAAAAAAAIw/K-J8rjd4m0s/s1600-h/spring+%2709+033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2r3toaI/AAAAAAAAAIw/K-J8rjd4m0s/s400/spring+%2709+033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328709276715032994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...and his conclusion was "I don't feel like it's mine."&lt;br /&gt;HA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2UeYThI/AAAAAAAAAIo/G6fJFQXZ6mo/s1600-h/spring+%2709+032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2UeYThI/AAAAAAAAAIo/G6fJFQXZ6mo/s400/spring+%2709+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328709270434762258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I really hated to scrub this one away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-685540029181835349?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/685540029181835349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=685540029181835349' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/685540029181835349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/685540029181835349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/04/evidence.html' title='Evidence...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SfNg2Jfqt1I/AAAAAAAAAIg/tmgQA39q8a0/s72-c/spring+%2709+031+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-3151819415119970778</id><published>2009-04-17T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T12:35:15.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Contentment =</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Some of my newly discovered fav songs playing in the background,&lt;br /&gt;Dylan falling asleep in my arms...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SejYjjXTLfI/AAAAAAAAAIA/_RTFxGndf0c/s1600-h/spring+%2709+027+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SejYjjXTLfI/AAAAAAAAAIA/_RTFxGndf0c/s400/spring+%2709+027+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325744664665599474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enjoying one of Camden's wonderfully animated stories&lt;br /&gt;(more than once...haha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dCx4EbOTeNk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;color2=0x999999"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dCx4EbOTeNk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while the rain falls intermittently on a dark spring afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself wishing, in moments like these,&lt;br /&gt;that I could figure out how to make time stand still.&lt;br /&gt;They never seem to last quite long enough...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-3151819415119970778?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/3151819415119970778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=3151819415119970778' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/3151819415119970778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/3151819415119970778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/04/contentment.html' title='Contentment ='/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SejYjjXTLfI/AAAAAAAAAIA/_RTFxGndf0c/s72-c/spring+%2709+027+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7378456208582283448</id><published>2009-04-12T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T18:12:29.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Faithful to the utterly unfaithful...</title><content type='html'>When I was in high school, we had an intern named Andy. He was my pal. :)&lt;br /&gt;He introduced me to this song by Jennifer Knapp. The lyrics caught me the first time I heard them. It came to my mind the other day...kinda out of the blue. I love it when that happens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"All the chisels I've dulled carving idols of stone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That have crumbled like sand 'neath the waves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've recklessly built all my dreams in the sand &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just to watch them all wash away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To One who sees passed all I see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And reaching out my weary hands I pray that You'd understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're the only One Who's faithful to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;All the pennies I've wasted in my wishing well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have thrown like stones to the sea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've cast my lots, dropped my guard, searched aimlessly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For a faith to be faithful to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To One who sees passed all I see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And reaching out my weary hands I pray that You'd understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're the only One Who's faithful to me.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faithful...that's His character. How much love must it take to be faithful to us, a people that really have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no idea&lt;/span&gt; what it means to be faithful to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;? Even when I am shamefully unfaithful to Him, He remains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7378456208582283448?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7378456208582283448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7378456208582283448' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7378456208582283448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7378456208582283448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/04/faithful-to-utterly-unfaithful.html' title='Faithful to the utterly unfaithful...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-1042443572859832538</id><published>2009-04-10T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T11:23:10.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, Mercy Me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;"If I could just sit with You a while, if You could just hold me&lt;br /&gt;Nothing could touch me though I'm wounded, though I die&lt;br /&gt;If I could just sit with You a while, I need You to hold me&lt;br /&gt;Moment by moment, 'till forever passes by"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-1042443572859832538?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/1042443572859832538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=1042443572859832538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1042443572859832538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1042443572859832538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-mercy-me.html' title='Oh, Mercy Me...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-5335333644781013491</id><published>2009-03-31T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T19:56:15.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just breathe...</title><content type='html'>I'm a fair-weather runner. I SO look forward to spring, because I get to start running again with regularity (and without my forehead/brain/lungs/fingers freezing). The sporadic running in the winter isn't enough to keep me in shape for my preferred long distances. It takes a couple of weeks to get my body worked back up to running the 6-10 miles I aim for on most days in the summer/early fall.&lt;br /&gt;I love running long distances. It makes me feel strong and accomplished. Those miles can be tough to get through, though...especially with my wandering mind. In order to do well and finish strong, I have to keep myself from drifting too far into the beat of music, or fretting too much over the problems I'm currently facing. I have to talk my body through it..."stand up taller...shoulders back...head up...steady breathing, in two, out two..." or else I find myself slouching and panting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During another contemplative swinging session on the playground today (what is it about swinging that puts my mind in the "deep thoughts" mode?), I was considering the parallel between the successful completion of a long run and the successful completion of a really tough day. I'm finding that in my most difficult moments, it helps a bit when I set my focus on the basics..."stand up taller...shoulders back...head up...steady breathing, in and out..."&lt;br /&gt;Just a thought...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-5335333644781013491?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/5335333644781013491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=5335333644781013491' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5335333644781013491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5335333644781013491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/03/just-breathe.html' title='Just breathe...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-4765818476738841449</id><published>2009-03-22T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T13:22:30.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Sunkist" and "Squirt"...or something like that. :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She smiles in the sunshine...&lt;br /&gt;I'm at my best on cloudy and moody days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She blissfully soaks in the extreme heat...&lt;br /&gt;I happily shiver in cold air.&lt;br /&gt;She became who she is when she was&lt;br /&gt;at the beginning of her second decade of life...&lt;br /&gt;I'm ever changing and don't know who I'll become&lt;br /&gt;with the next breath I take.&lt;br /&gt;But we both dream in memories of the past&lt;br /&gt;and smile at shared moments.&lt;br /&gt;We love mint chocolate chip ice cream&lt;br /&gt;(um...ice cream in general, really) and reading good books.&lt;br /&gt;We love our children with our whole hearts,&lt;br /&gt;and love each other as dearly as sisters.&lt;br /&gt;I know she'll laugh with me when I'm happy&lt;br /&gt; and cry with me when I'm hurting...&lt;br /&gt;and she knows I'll do the same for her.&lt;br /&gt;She's always one of the first to get down in the trench&lt;br /&gt;with me...no matter how deep and dark...&lt;br /&gt;and fight for me.&lt;br /&gt;She's the truest definition of &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;friend&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;We cherish our time together.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't happen as often as either of us would like!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last two times we've "vacationed" together,&lt;br /&gt;we've both carried our cameras around to capture fun moments.&lt;br /&gt;And both times we realized at the end of the week&lt;br /&gt;that we didn't get any pictures of the two of us together.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well...we know we were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to go skating for a couple of hours for old times sake. :)&lt;br /&gt;It was fun, despite the crash early in the evening...haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScagcAX7G-I/AAAAAAAAAG0/B4AM3EMrg1o/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScagcAX7G-I/AAAAAAAAAG0/B4AM3EMrg1o/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316112813154573282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScagchF03MI/AAAAAAAAAG8/AjH97WXOwyM/s1600-h/photo%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScagchF03MI/AAAAAAAAAG8/AjH97WXOwyM/s320/photo%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316112821937036482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Our only picture together from the week&lt;br /&gt;was at Chuck E Cheese.&lt;br /&gt;It was one of those photo-booth, pencil sketch things.&lt;br /&gt;It took us a few takes to get a couple of good ones&lt;br /&gt;(one for each of us)&lt;br /&gt;and I was going to post mine,&lt;br /&gt;but I suck at the whole scanner thing.&lt;br /&gt;So...you can just trust me that we're&lt;br /&gt;super-cute best friends. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-4765818476738841449?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/4765818476738841449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=4765818476738841449' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4765818476738841449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4765818476738841449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/03/sunkist-and-squirtor-something-like.html' title='&quot;Sunkist&quot; and &quot;Squirt&quot;...or something like that. :)'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScagcAX7G-I/AAAAAAAAAG0/B4AM3EMrg1o/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-1280858081111650050</id><published>2009-03-22T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T20:57:36.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two thousand, one hundred and eighty miles...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We started the journey back to Oklahoma on Thursday morning.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to take more time getting home,&lt;br /&gt;because I felt like I was torturing the boys by&lt;br /&gt;making them sit in the kiddie seats for so long...haha.&lt;br /&gt;We went back to Madison County.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to find more of the covered bridges.&lt;br /&gt;The boys had fun running through this one...&lt;br /&gt;probably mostly because they were tired of being in the car.&lt;br /&gt;The whole time they were running through it they were saying&lt;br /&gt;"MOM! Take a picture of us running in the bridge!"&lt;br /&gt;So I did, of course. Several of them.&lt;br /&gt;Here are just two of the many...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScaALFdvacI/AAAAAAAAAGs/TiqSuzTfav8/s1600-h/spring+break+181+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScaALFdvacI/AAAAAAAAAGs/TiqSuzTfav8/s320/spring+break+181+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316077338091284930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScaAKpClu_I/AAAAAAAAAGk/jhcCifglaqI/s1600-h/spring+break+187+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScaAKpClu_I/AAAAAAAAAGk/jhcCifglaqI/s320/spring+break+187+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316077330461211634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We stopped at a hotel...&lt;br /&gt;making sure the one we chose to stay in had an&lt;br /&gt;indoor pool and hot tub.&lt;br /&gt;We swam before bed, then again after breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;It was fun and relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here are my cuties...&lt;br /&gt;ready for swimming in their new swim trunks...&lt;br /&gt;(You can see the remnant of a tattoo on Dylan's belly...haha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ_ZlT23lI/AAAAAAAAAGc/5QOhqRQaAYI/s1600-h/spring+break+195+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ_ZlT23lI/AAAAAAAAAGc/5QOhqRQaAYI/s320/spring+break+195+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316076487646305874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And after swimming...wet hair from mom dunking them. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ_Zfv3ptI/AAAAAAAAAGU/eGxUupPf9JM/s1600-h/spring+break+205.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ_Zfv3ptI/AAAAAAAAAGU/eGxUupPf9JM/s320/spring+break+205.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316076486153184978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They were troopers on the long ride. They did really good.&lt;br /&gt;We sang songs and had fun conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan="Mom, why do we get out of the house when it's on fire?"&lt;br /&gt;Me="So that we don't get burned."&lt;br /&gt;Dylan="Well, why does it burn us?"&lt;br /&gt;Me="Because it's super, super hot."&lt;br /&gt;Dylan="Does fire want to be hot?"&lt;br /&gt;Me="Um...I don't think fire has a choice...it just is."&lt;br /&gt;Dylan="So what if fire was on fire?"&lt;br /&gt;....and it keeps going.&lt;br /&gt;They're very curious about all sorts of random things.&lt;br /&gt;Patience is necessary when traveling with two young boys.&lt;br /&gt;That, and the ability to tune them out when you get&lt;br /&gt;tired of answering questions. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also napped a bit.&lt;br /&gt;I can't see how this would be comfortable,&lt;br /&gt;but they seemed to be ok with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ-vVtApuI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Km4cdm7a23E/s1600-h/spring+break+206.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ-vVtApuI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Km4cdm7a23E/s320/spring+break+206.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316075761902331618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ-uwNo8PI/AAAAAAAAAGE/bcV6eGgphSc/s1600-h/spring+break+208.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScZ-uwNo8PI/AAAAAAAAAGE/bcV6eGgphSc/s320/spring+break+208.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316075751838642418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They had a lot of fun in Minneapolis,&lt;br /&gt;but they were glad to be back in Altus.&lt;br /&gt;Camden asked what town we were in&lt;br /&gt;every time we passed through one.&lt;br /&gt;When we finally got to Altus,&lt;br /&gt;he asked [again] what town we were in.&lt;br /&gt;I said "Well, what town do you think we're in?"&lt;br /&gt;He looked around and said "ALTUS!"&lt;br /&gt;I asked him why he thought that,&lt;br /&gt;and he started pointing to buildings and saying&lt;br /&gt;"Because that building is in Altus,&lt;br /&gt;and that building is in Altus...&lt;br /&gt;and that's how I know!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dylan spotted the plane in the park and that's how he knew.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as we got to the house, they ran into their toy room&lt;br /&gt;and put on their cowboy boots, hats, and guns.&lt;br /&gt;They were excited to be reunited with their favorite things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-1280858081111650050?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/1280858081111650050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=1280858081111650050' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1280858081111650050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1280858081111650050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-thousand-one-hundred-and-eighty.html' title='Two thousand, one hundred and eighty miles...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScaALFdvacI/AAAAAAAAAGs/TiqSuzTfav8/s72-c/spring+break+181+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7402838703768910958</id><published>2009-03-21T10:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T11:18:33.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brownies for breakfast and ice cream with a fork...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We had some fun days in Minneapolis. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here are a few pictures...&lt;br /&gt;(I think I have close to 200 on my computer! So these are just some favorites.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Camden, Dylan, and Gabriella playing with a baby toy together&lt;br /&gt;in their cute footie pajamas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUlSey5XlI/AAAAAAAAAEU/a2yZYzxYCRI/s1600-h/spring+break+030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUlSey5XlI/AAAAAAAAAEU/a2yZYzxYCRI/s320/spring+break+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315695934615150162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Gabriella was very curious about the boys.&lt;br /&gt;She watched them a lot...with a serious look on her sweet face.&lt;br /&gt;She loves them and they love her.&lt;br /&gt;Check out Camden's crazy morning hair...haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUmFS5_faI/AAAAAAAAAEc/YEPbrI4lOJw/s1600-h/spring+break+033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUmFS5_faI/AAAAAAAAAEc/YEPbrI4lOJw/s320/spring+break+033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315696807597014434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriella and Auntie M...&lt;br /&gt;Ready for the Mall of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUm9PJcoeI/AAAAAAAAAEk/dgBsGXSsmf4/s1600-h/spring+break+103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUm9PJcoeI/AAAAAAAAAEk/dgBsGXSsmf4/s320/spring+break+103.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315697768660771298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We rode a few rides...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUoC1K5JII/AAAAAAAAAEs/uO6spXArKIo/s1600-h/spring+break+042.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUoC1K5JII/AAAAAAAAAEs/uO6spXArKIo/s320/spring+break+042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315698964278355074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUoDDRaYOI/AAAAAAAAAE0/9g5cPsLvl9Q/s1600-h/spring+break+039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUoDDRaYOI/AAAAAAAAAE0/9g5cPsLvl9Q/s320/spring+break+039.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315698968063795426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The boys played in Lego Land...&lt;br /&gt;Camden was pretty excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;I think Dylan eventually got excited, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUpTC4BmtI/AAAAAAAAAE8/j5jBGiDmong/s1600-h/spring+break+122+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUpTC4BmtI/AAAAAAAAAE8/j5jBGiDmong/s320/spring+break+122+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315700342346848978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUpTL2S-3I/AAAAAAAAAFE/g2_oOqKPEjI/s1600-h/spring+break+130.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUpTL2S-3I/AAAAAAAAAFE/g2_oOqKPEjI/s320/spring+break+130.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315700344755518322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabriella had fun with the straw.&lt;br /&gt;So adorable, isn't she?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUq3H9qtOI/AAAAAAAAAFM/Ug26pwpHnE8/s1600-h/spring+break+134.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUq3H9qtOI/AAAAAAAAAFM/Ug26pwpHnE8/s320/spring+break+134.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315702061699609826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We took the kids to Chuck E Cheese on our last night in Minneapolis.&lt;br /&gt;They had never been before, and they very much enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUsTjhY5fI/AAAAAAAAAFU/araiWwljVkc/s1600-h/spring+break+075+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUsTjhY5fI/AAAAAAAAAFU/araiWwljVkc/s320/spring+break+075+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315703649645159922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUsUX3BAJI/AAAAAAAAAFk/wFdx2WOH96E/s1600-h/spring+break+077+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUsUX3BAJI/AAAAAAAAAFk/wFdx2WOH96E/s320/spring+break+077+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315703663694512274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUt65U267I/AAAAAAAAAF0/zKWXI-Cj6lo/s1600-h/spring+break+149.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUt65U267I/AAAAAAAAAF0/zKWXI-Cj6lo/s320/spring+break+149.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315705425024707506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUsVOHK6aI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ndtn3CE_Z1M/s1600-h/spring+break+165+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUsVOHK6aI/AAAAAAAAAFs/ndtn3CE_Z1M/s320/spring+break+165+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315703678257785250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUt7V-x50I/AAAAAAAAAF8/r5oxh4CwNVk/s1600-h/spring+break+166.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUt7V-x50I/AAAAAAAAAF8/r5oxh4CwNVk/s320/spring+break+166.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315705432716732226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Like I said...fun days. :)&lt;br /&gt;I loved getting to spend time with my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't happen nearly enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7402838703768910958?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7402838703768910958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7402838703768910958' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7402838703768910958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7402838703768910958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/03/brownies-for-breakfast-and-ice-cream.html' title='Brownies for breakfast and ice cream with a fork...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/ScUlSey5XlI/AAAAAAAAAEU/a2yZYzxYCRI/s72-c/spring+break+030.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-6366246492730167741</id><published>2009-03-13T21:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T22:19:57.407-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We've only just begun...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ahh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What a day. I made the choice to travel through a few states with my boys in the backseat to spend Spring Break with my best friend Rachel, her husband Jeremy, and her baby girl Gabriella.&lt;br /&gt;Not sure if that makes me crazy or brave...haha. But we made it.&lt;br /&gt;I captured a few moments on the way. I'll share some of them with you. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The boys had their pillows and blankets to snuggle with.&lt;br /&gt;I imagine it made the ride more comfortable...at least for a while.&lt;br /&gt;They also used them to make tents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbsw3IIqb4I/AAAAAAAAAC8/aGIjdaTA-qs/s1600-h/spring+break+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 245px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbsw3IIqb4I/AAAAAAAAAC8/aGIjdaTA-qs/s320/spring+break+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312893909048389506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The patient driver...&lt;br /&gt;weeeeee...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SbsxgO5r9YI/AAAAAAAAADE/fqK7jYDzsCE/s1600-h/spring+break+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SbsxgO5r9YI/AAAAAAAAADE/fqK7jYDzsCE/s320/spring+break+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312894615239259522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch.&lt;br /&gt;I've always thought that place was pretty neat, with the cool toys and rocking chairs. Dylan had macaroni and cheese (which they call mac-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ree&lt;/span&gt;-oni). He ended up with some of the tasty cheese around his sweet little mouth. Camden thought it was funny, and called it Dylan's "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mac-ree&lt;/span&gt;-beard"...haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs08KGi65I/AAAAAAAAADM/ZRKqE1QHQec/s1600-h/spring+break+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs08KGi65I/AAAAAAAAADM/ZRKqE1QHQec/s320/spring+break+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312898393522236306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I told Camden the rules to the peg game.&lt;br /&gt;He decided it was more fun to play his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs1yu8E_cI/AAAAAAAAADU/Uekn8ZNOVeU/s1600-h/spring+break+004+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs1yu8E_cI/AAAAAAAAADU/Uekn8ZNOVeU/s320/spring+break+004+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312899331123379650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dylan got a kick out of my lunch time photo session...&lt;br /&gt;and he insisted (with a giggle) that I take a picture of the biscuits.&lt;br /&gt;He also wanted me to take a picture of the jelly...and butter...and spoon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs2pzntg0I/AAAAAAAAADc/20mXdf0AgmM/s1600-h/spring+break+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs2pzntg0I/AAAAAAAAADc/20mXdf0AgmM/s320/spring+break+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312900277272937282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They had a fire lit in the huge fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;Dylan had a hard time sitting still for the photo, so he's a bit of a blur...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs3QOaVnyI/AAAAAAAAADk/Zwg06SwPGG0/s1600-h/spring+break+012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs3QOaVnyI/AAAAAAAAADk/Zwg06SwPGG0/s320/spring+break+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312900937299631906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After a few &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; hours of driving, my eyes started to glaze over. I impulsively took an exit, just anxious for a bit of a leg stretch (and some gasoline)...&lt;br /&gt;and I ended up finding this little town&lt;br /&gt;with a pretty church and covered bridges.&lt;br /&gt;It was in Madison County.&lt;br /&gt;So yeah...the impulsive exiting ended up being a happy accident. :)&lt;br /&gt;I was anxious to get to Rachel's,&lt;br /&gt;so I didn't spend much time looking for the covered bridges...&lt;br /&gt;but I did get to run through one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs5Hv_DSfI/AAAAAAAAADs/mqT05Nlyrgg/s1600-h/spring+break+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs5Hv_DSfI/AAAAAAAAADs/mqT05Nlyrgg/s320/spring+break+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312902990716422642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs5bomdw6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/j_jKIRBesfc/s1600-h/spring+break+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs5bomdw6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/j_jKIRBesfc/s320/spring+break+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312903332331635618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs5wAR7QUI/AAAAAAAAAD8/d6F-NBxozAQ/s1600-h/spring+break+025+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs5wAR7QUI/AAAAAAAAAD8/d6F-NBxozAQ/s320/spring+break+025+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312903682285322562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pretty church in town...with RED doors!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs7Qm0n0RI/AAAAAAAAAEE/z76uKBBKr7E/s1600-h/spring+break+022+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs7Qm0n0RI/AAAAAAAAAEE/z76uKBBKr7E/s320/spring+break+022+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312905341898838290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I got to the end of town and pulled into a driveway to turn around...&lt;br /&gt;and saw these signs.&lt;br /&gt;It made me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs7797e-nI/AAAAAAAAAEM/cY9OY7fIMck/s1600-h/spring+break+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbs7797e-nI/AAAAAAAAAEM/cY9OY7fIMck/s320/spring+break+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312906086836009586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We had a long day of driving. By the time we got to Minneapolis, the sun had gone down for the night and our butts were numb...haha.&lt;br /&gt;But we're still smiling, because our adventure is just beginning...&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-6366246492730167741?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/6366246492730167741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=6366246492730167741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/6366246492730167741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/6366246492730167741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/03/weve-only-just-begun.html' title='We&apos;ve only just begun...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/Sbsw3IIqb4I/AAAAAAAAAC8/aGIjdaTA-qs/s72-c/spring+break+008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-3274107036398763611</id><published>2009-03-02T19:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T19:43:07.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My reasons...</title><content type='html'>Camden and Dylan are everything in my world. They make me laugh (often in the same moment that they're making me completely crazy)...&lt;br /&gt;They're amazing little people.&lt;br /&gt;I was cleaning out my inbox on myspace and I ran across a Camden/Dylan story. I have to share it on here because...well, it's just funny.&lt;br /&gt;We were riding in the car one day, listening to a preacher on the radio. (Kind of abnormal for us. It's normally programmed to some sort of rap...lol)&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so the preacher was praying. At the end of it he said "ah-men", instead of the "a-men" that the boys are used to hearing. From the backseat I hear...&lt;br /&gt;Dylan="AH-men? What is AH-men?"&lt;br /&gt;Camden=(in a matter-of-fact voice) "It's Spanish."&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Ok. Question answered...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both loooove singing. Seriously, they sing ALL of the time. Especially Camden. He even makes up random songs...adding a bit of a tune to a regular sentence that he's trying to communicate...("When is dinner?" to the tune of Frere Jacques. Yeah...random...)&lt;br /&gt;I have a youtube account so that I can share some of the moments that I catch on film with my dad, since he lives far away and doesn't get to see them often. Gotta spread the joy.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple of the newer clips (they're still kind of old...I need to post new songs. Maybe soon...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He might have gotten a few of the words mixed up ("you're pimply heaven"??? haha!), but it's still incredibly adorable...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Jd7LqPoKMYQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Jd7LqPoKMYQ&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I taught both them the Altus High School fight song as soon as they were able to speak. It's pretty cute when we go to football games and they can sing along with the band. Go Bulldogs :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/It7oEG6r7aA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/It7oEG6r7aA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-3274107036398763611?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/3274107036398763611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=3274107036398763611' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/3274107036398763611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/3274107036398763611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-reasons.html' title='My reasons...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-8494710357219496647</id><published>2009-02-11T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T05:31:01.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One little something...</title><content type='html'>I'm a lover of words. Often when faced with the reality of a moment, I find that words fail me. I need more than a moment to channel the whirling thoughts into meaningful conversation...lol. Which is why I love writing. When I'm out of the immediacy of a moment, words don't fail. I can sit here and stare at the Microsoft document for an hour with only one sentence typed...and given time, I can create.&lt;br /&gt;I have such a strong desire to create. I have words running through my mind...small fragments of "somethings" that long to be crafted into significance and worthy of consideration. I want to write a song...a poem...a book...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy solid quotes. One of my favorites, possibly because of its simplicity and straightforwardness, is "Start by starting". (Glenn Close...smart, eh?)&lt;br /&gt;So one night I went out to the reservoir. I thought I'd be inspired by the water...the sunset. That place usually inspires me. I was going to "start by starting". I bought a new notebook. I bought new pens. (in &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;purple&lt;/span&gt;, even...a color that, in my world, is associated with epiphanies ;)&lt;br /&gt;I heard the wind...and I heard the thoughts in my mind. Still formless. They weren't lyrics, or lines of a poem, or sentences for a book...they were just rolling pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm finding I need very little persuasion to think of you...so entwined you are in my mind. Even so small a thing as a breath is filled with your scent.&lt;br /&gt;There is no need for a token, lovely as they are.&lt;br /&gt;Because the simple is filled with you, any other tangible memory overwhelms my senses."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts were racing, but the sun went quickly. I lost the light...&lt;br /&gt;And all of the images and words in my mind went with it.&lt;br /&gt;I found that my hands weren't quite as proficient with a pen as they were a keyboard, and my thoughts outran them.&lt;br /&gt;All I could think as the sun set on my creativity was that I really needed a drink of water and a bathroom. Hm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to give up, though.&lt;br /&gt;I can't let go of the desire.&lt;br /&gt;I need to want something attainable for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-8494710357219496647?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/8494710357219496647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=8494710357219496647' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/8494710357219496647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/8494710357219496647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-little-something.html' title='One little something...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7418480551726103124</id><published>2009-01-27T13:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T13:55:21.332-08:00</updated><title type='text'>relief in the nonsensical</title><content type='html'>It's sleeting/snowing here today. I'm warm in my fleece pajama pants, wrapped in a fleece blanket, listening to my boys laugh while they play soccer in the house. Presently, my life is in a vicious spiral of uncertainly (not "adventure"...please note that there is a difference), so these small moments of contentment are welcomed and treasured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have kids...and I work with kids. Mostly, they're obnoxious. But some days they remind me of how wonderfully uncomplicated life can be...and they teach me a little lesson on how to garner pure pleasures from simple moments. One day during play time, Emma spent 30 minutes (yes...30 whole minutes) spinning. She'd spin, fall from her continuous and dizzying rotation, then get up and spin again. I just watched her, thinking "how on earth is she finding herself contented to spin while everyone around her is running around chasing the ball?" Hm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The majority of people dislike it when their life moves in the same direction every day, causing a rut of monotony. I know I typically do. I like adventure (here's where you'd recall the "note" about uncertainty not being equal to adventure). Overall, I'm not a fan of sameness. I get bored very easily. I think I create a lot of that tedium myself, becoming a monotony monster. I have learned that I'm extremely proficient at desensitizing myself to happiness found in the ridiculous (i.e. Emma's wonderfully childish enjoyment of spinning). You can go ahead and jump under this speeding train of realization with me...you know you're a monster too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said earlier, my life is alternating between viciously spiraling uncertainty and terrifying standstills. Unsure of every step I take, I'm finding my monotony in a lack of positive forward motion. In a season where far reaching decisions seem overwhelming, I'm determined to remember how to find small, simple moments of pure and uncomplicated pleasures. I'm sure they're all around me...I just need to strip off the world-weariness that I'm currently clothed in.&lt;br /&gt;And, instead, focus on how incredibly comfortable and warm fleece is on an icy day.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7418480551726103124?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7418480551726103124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7418480551726103124' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7418480551726103124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7418480551726103124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/01/relief-in-nonsensical.html' title='relief in the nonsensical'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-1642482980503346455</id><published>2009-01-04T08:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T08:26:13.208-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh my name</title><content type='html'>I had a beautiful impression.&lt;br /&gt;It was there only moments ago,&lt;br /&gt;but when I reached for it, it danced away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about losing something...&lt;br /&gt;Something that might have been worth more&lt;br /&gt;than the reality for which it was sacrificed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is taunting me,&lt;br /&gt;but unwilling to surrender in full.&lt;br /&gt;I hear pieces, drifting on sighs...&lt;br /&gt;("...with sadness, feel what once was stirring&lt;br /&gt;       float away on an exhaled breath.")&lt;br /&gt;It's at the edge of my memory,&lt;br /&gt;loath to be recalled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I consider it lost?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, here I am&lt;br /&gt;without what I had.&lt;br /&gt;Wondering why&lt;br /&gt;it seems so important to remember...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what my heart won't let me forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-1642482980503346455?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/1642482980503346455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=1642482980503346455' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1642482980503346455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1642482980503346455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2009/01/sigh-my-name.html' title='Sigh my name'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-1699156169935841062</id><published>2008-12-30T09:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T19:30:11.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'>mo mhian</title><content type='html'>I have some things that I've writted that have been in my computer files for a very long time. I rarely feel like sharing them, because they never feel...finished.&lt;br /&gt;But I decided to post this one. And maybe I'll post a few more later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You looked my way...&lt;br /&gt;In that quiet flash of time, our eyes engaged&lt;br /&gt;and the sun rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories of an empty, restless night slid away&lt;br /&gt;with the blooming, radiant blush of day.&lt;br /&gt;Beauty suspended in that instant...&lt;br /&gt;Within those gentle moments, the light shimmered,&lt;br /&gt;spreading it's brilliant rays...&lt;br /&gt;filling every voided space&lt;br /&gt;with passionate and colorful shades.&lt;br /&gt;Everything was washed in a soft glow.&lt;br /&gt;A longing rushed through me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then you looked away.&lt;br /&gt;The shiny moment passed,&lt;br /&gt;and the sun set.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-1699156169935841062?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/1699156169935841062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=1699156169935841062' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1699156169935841062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/1699156169935841062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/12/mo-mhian.html' title='mo mhian'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-413194091464099766</id><published>2008-11-10T15:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T15:57:53.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lovely memories...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The other night, a friend and I were talking and he brought up the idea of "summer time friendships"...which reminded me of a blog I posted two years ago on myspace. I'm re-posting it on here, because it's something that I think about often...especially with the Air Force Base being here in Altus. Anyway...if you'd like to read the original blog, &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&amp;amp;friendID=57418462&amp;amp;blogID=159740919&amp;amp;Mytoken=123F85DC-436B-4872-947541567F27421C292351666"&gt;here's the link&lt;/a&gt;. You might even find a comment written by you at the end of it...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So...last night I spent a &lt;em&gt;large&lt;/em&gt; amount of my time searching my house for the cords to my printer. About two years ago, I put them somewhere. At that moment I thought it was a good spot- a spot where I would be able to find them when I wanted to use them again. I was wrong. It must have been a bad spot, because I can't find them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So, during my futile cord search, I ran across a bag of notes/letters/cards from my school days. I actually knew it was there, but I never take the time to go through it. All of the sudden I thought it would be &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; the time to read the hundreds of little notes that I've had packed away for all these years...lol. I found a couple of notes and cards from this guy that had a huge crush on me in 7th grade (whatever happened to him...?), and I found a couple of notes from a boy that I loved in 9th/10th grade (I still love him, actually...and talk to him occasionally). Chances are, if you ever went to camp with me---at &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt; point in my life--I have a note from you. Very possibly more than one (remember having "mail boxes" at camp and getting prayer grams?) I have notes from people that I don't even remember (shame on me for forgetting!) Most of the notes say "I love you"...and I know that a lot of those people wouldn't say that to me now...lol. (Being caught up in the "camp experience" makes you love &lt;em&gt;everyone&lt;/em&gt;!) So many of the notes say things such as "friends forever", or some similar endearing phrase. When you are in that moment, reading those little loving notes, you have no reason to question that you &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt;, in fact, be friends forever. You somehow believe that it is true. Call it a childish thought or whatever...but you do. It makes me a little sad to think about how easily those "forever" friendships dissolve. I mean, I don't know where even half of the authors of those little notes are now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It is interesting how people move into your life for some period of time...spend time loving you and knowing you...then just slip out, leaving little pieces of themselves and taking little pieces of you. Then in the present, you run into them at Wal-mart or some such place, and no matter how close you were in the past, it almost seems like you are strangers now. It's just part of life...a sad but somehow necessary part.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Then there are friends that remain...not many, but a few. I read a card from one of those friends today...sweet. It was from my 16th birthday. She said something like "we have been friends for 4 years. Can you believe it's already been 4 years?!" Little did we know at the time that 4 years would turn into 14...and it makes me wonder how our relationship will be in 10 more years.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Makes me want to cherish the time that I have with people...because if (or more truthfully "when") they slip away, and our lives take different forks, the lovely memories will remain...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-413194091464099766?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/413194091464099766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=413194091464099766' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/413194091464099766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/413194091464099766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/11/lovely-memories.html' title='Lovely memories...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-7085959701795514565</id><published>2008-10-28T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T14:02:48.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Magnitude" and...me.</title><content type='html'>A couple of blogs ago, I posted my want list. I hesitated to allow others to read it for a number of reasons...including a bit of trepidation in sounding like an incredibly selfish girl, but mostly because of a fear that I'd fail myself in a [somewhat] public way. What if I don't achieve any of those things? I mean, you know me, you've read my list...I'm sure you'll notice if I never move to Alaska, right? lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    But ultimately, I believe that it's beneficial to speak our wants and desires into the universe. I don't mean that in a mystical way. I'm just saying, if we speak our dreams into life (or blog them into life, as I've done...lol), we are held accountable in making them a reality. Everyone will wonder and ask if we've "done it yet", and who wants to say no? Yeah...not me. It's not fun admitting defeat...especially if I've defeated myself.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;    I read a quote the other day, and it really incited some deep thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;"Vision without action is merely a dream.&lt;br /&gt;Action without vision just passes the time.&lt;br /&gt;Vision with action can change the world."&lt;br /&gt;Joel A. Barker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I can want/wish/dream/desire often and hard, but no matter how badly I yearn for something, it is unattainable without action. It'll remain on my list of things that I aspire to accomplish and adventures that I hope to experience before my life is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    To leave a safe path for an unknown in pursuit of a dream, risks are taken. It takes courage and faith...and failure is always a possibility. I can't achieve something great without chancing failure. But I just have to do it. I have to move forward or I'll just be standing still. Makes sense, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-7085959701795514565?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/7085959701795514565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=7085959701795514565' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7085959701795514565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/7085959701795514565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/10/magnitude-andme.html' title='&quot;Magnitude&quot; and...me.'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-2501945968418297761</id><published>2008-10-22T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T09:59:38.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Be Loving You Forever...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I went to Dallas this past weekend. It was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;completely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;amazing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;. My wedding day, the birth of my children, the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:verdana;" &gt;NKTOB concert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;...yeah, it's up there as a highlight in my life...lol. Sounds pretty silly, but I don't mind sounding silly. I simply don't have the words to even begin to tell you how awesome it was. I just don't...so this will be a short post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I left Friday and drove down to Fort Worth to my sweet friend Sarah's house. I spent the WHOLE weekend eating, shopping, and playing. The highlights were 8.0 (www.eightobar.com) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;in downtown Fort Worth, and [&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;of course!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;] the New Kids on the Block concert. Natasha Bedingfield opened for them. I didn't even know she was the opening act, but I was extremely excited when I realized it. She was great. Then I was completely blown away by the guys. Seriously...lol. It was insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Here are a few pictures from the concert. I'm sure you've probably already seen them if you're on my myspace/facebook...but I'll post them here, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Close up on our &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;rad blue hair&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...we looked cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9Mh_Br90I/AAAAAAAAACo/4WlN0vDGiwI/s1600-h/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+034+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9Mh_Br90I/AAAAAAAAACo/4WlN0vDGiwI/s400/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+034+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260007036529932098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;'80s girls, wearing my old New Kids Shirts from back in the day...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;ready for the concert!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9LzjSWhRI/AAAAAAAAACQ/xaplcH-M3MA/s1600-h/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+036+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9LzjSWhRI/AAAAAAAAACQ/xaplcH-M3MA/s400/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+036+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260006238809654546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Sarah, Miranda, and Donnie!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9K-3DWEHI/AAAAAAAAACI/FoVAppPozxI/s1600-h/new+kids+on+the+block+%2708+005+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9K-3DWEHI/AAAAAAAAACI/FoVAppPozxI/s400/new+kids+on+the+block+%2708+005+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260005333582352498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;They moved from the main stage to a small, rotating stage &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt; behind us!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9MDJ5rkmI/AAAAAAAAACY/aQzraueJxqU/s1600-h/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+008+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9MDJ5rkmI/AAAAAAAAACY/aQzraueJxqU/s400/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+008+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260006506873197154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9MPopyDsI/AAAAAAAAACg/5PRgH0wnIm4/s1600-h/new+kids+on+the+block+%2708+011+%282%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9MPopyDsI/AAAAAAAAACg/5PRgH0wnIm4/s400/new+kids+on+the+block+%2708+011+%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260006721286442690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I also recorded a few short video clips and uploaded them to my youtube account (http://www.youtube.com/profile_videos?user=justmyranda). Very short, but still fun. You'll have to excuse the shaky camera. I was [obviously!] pretty pumped, so my hands were trembling. Plus, all of the other excited girls wiggling and jumping around me made the floor vibrate...lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a couple of other blogs simmering in my mind, so I'll be posting them this week. Until then...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(OH, and p.s...do any of you know how to post a hyperlink on here? I couldn't get it to work...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&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/6560344559849436892-2501945968418297761?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/2501945968418297761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=2501945968418297761' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2501945968418297761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2501945968418297761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-went-to-dallas-this-past-weekend.html' title='I&apos;ll Be Loving You Forever...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SP9Mh_Br90I/AAAAAAAAACo/4WlN0vDGiwI/s72-c/New+Kids+on+the+Block+%2708+034+%282%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-4475795440217971097</id><published>2008-10-09T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T13:47:39.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For my birthday,</title><content type='html'>I want autumn. I want a personal cook. I want to live in a lighthouse in Maine. I want to write a book that everyone wants to read. I want them to know what I know, and have what I have. I want to be a high school guidance counselor. I want to live in a loft in New York City. I want new black flip-flops. I want to help someone. I want to carve another pumpkin. I want an elliptical machine. I want to live in Bend, Oregon. I want to be missed when I’m not there. I want to be a morning person. I want a teapot...or two. I want to open an art gallery. I want to take ballet classes. I want to go to Georgia to meet my sister-in-law. I want to live under the northern lights in Alaska. I want a canopy bed and a new dresser.  I want to walk on water. I want a new winter coat that I’ll never wear. I want to run a marathon. I want to live in a cabin on a mountain in Colorado. I want to go skiing. I want to make a difference. I want a real pantry, and a real laundry room. I want new clothes. I want to visit Ireland...and maybe live there, too. I want to build a house that looks like a castle. I want a peanut butter cup mix from Braums. I want to go see my dad, his wife, and his new house. I want six-pack abs. I want a new purse. I want to see myself the way you see me. I want to chop off my hair. I want to be well known. I want to own a ranch. I want a daughter. I want a pretty garden. I want my best friends to live where I live. I want a new tattoo. I want to have my own library. I want a comfortable recliner. I want a window seat. I want to have a girls weekend at a beach house in South Carolina. I want to go back to Kennewick to see it. I want to go to Italy. I want to see the sea. I want to surf, but just once. I want to live on a plantation in the South. I want to write a song. I want to laugh that hard again soon, and as often as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I want to be content with who and what I am, what I have, and where I find myself in this moment, while striving for who and what I will be, what I will acquire, and where I will be tomorrow. I want to have love for every moment, and never feel regret. I want to leave a legacy of joyfulness and peace, so that when my children think of me, they’ll smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to live it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-4475795440217971097?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/4475795440217971097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=4475795440217971097' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4475795440217971097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/4475795440217971097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/10/for-my-birthday.html' title='For my birthday,'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-5684697404527588655</id><published>2008-10-01T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T07:53:59.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Famous</title><content type='html'>Er...ok, so maybe not&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; famous&lt;/span&gt;, precisely. BUT, everyone (or a good number of people?) received a flyer in the mail last week featuring the Carlisle family, hanging out [posing] with Charles Ortega (the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actual&lt;/span&gt; featured person). And &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so what&lt;/span&gt; if you can barely tell it's me, with my hair flying wildly about my face? As I've gone on with my everyday business around the town of Altus, I've had several people mention that they saw us in the flyer. &lt;div&gt;So there it is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Famous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Almost?...lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SOeCHS9ZKDI/AAAAAAAAAB4/R3dKxTgc9hs/s1600-h/slide.002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SOeCHS9ZKDI/AAAAAAAAAB4/R3dKxTgc9hs/s400/slide.002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253310552211007538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anyway...in case you were completely mesmerized by the photo (ha!), the message of the flyer was to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;vote for Charles Ortega&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. He's a stand-up person. He would definitely be the best choice...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-5684697404527588655?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/5684697404527588655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=5684697404527588655' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5684697404527588655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/5684697404527588655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/10/famous.html' title='Famous'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SOeCHS9ZKDI/AAAAAAAAAB4/R3dKxTgc9hs/s72-c/slide.002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-2849005207835654343</id><published>2008-09-30T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T14:57:13.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"We are the music makers..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I typed this up last week. I didn't post it because I'm not entirely sure I purged my mind with my words. I typically like to get all of my thoughts on a particular subject out and together before I post it...but whatever. I didn't want to leave the Microsoft Word document open on my desktop anymore...lol. So if I read through it and decide to add more later, you'll just have to read it all over again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I love to write poetry. One of the most satisfying things about it is that I can write my deepest thoughts, and if I word it in a vague way, &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; know what I mean but &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; don’t. And although I always mean something very specific, you are free to interpret it any way you like. It’s like I’m shouting a secret, and no one hears it. It’s great...very cathartic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite type of poetry is musical lyrics. I’m &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; into lyrics. I’m drawn to a song first because of the beat and the singer’s voice, but it truly grabs me when the words are great. That’s one of my “things”...I always look up the lyrics. I enjoy reading them...&lt;br /&gt;My current profile song on myspace is I’m yours, by Jason Mraz. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I've been spendin' way too long checkin' my tongue in the mirror &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and bendin' over backwards just to try to see it clearer &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;But my breath fogged up the glass &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and so I drew a new face and I laughed &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I guess what I'd be sayin' is there ain't no better reason &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;to rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;it's what we aim to do&lt;br /&gt;our name is our virtue"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I’m not entirely sure how he intended these words to be understood, but it prompts my emotional mind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6666;"&gt;We try so hard to see what we “are”...and our image is nearly always distorted by our efforts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I don't think we ever actually see ourselves as others do...for better or worse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I mentioned in my previous blog that I’ve changed quite a bit in the last few years. In reality, I’ve nearly become a whole new person. I’m becoming the person that &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; want to be. It’s fun. I don’t care what you think of me, or if you don’t agree with the choices I make or the way I present myself. I’m just gonna be me. I’m going to live while I have breath. If I’m moldable (and I hope I am...I’d like to think that I'm receptive to good change), I want to be the artist responsible for my shape. When I look in the mirror, I want to smile at the face I see looking back at me. I’m nearly there...&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/6560344559849436892-2849005207835654343?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/2849005207835654343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=2849005207835654343' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2849005207835654343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/2849005207835654343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/09/we-are-music-makers.html' title='&quot;We are the music makers...&quot;'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6560344559849436892.post-339027404984021474</id><published>2008-09-22T14:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T15:58:20.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply this...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Eh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Well, I've had this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blogspot&lt;/span&gt; account opened since May. I don't typically run short of things to say...but for some reason, I just haven't used this particular blog. Maybe I was hoping to launch my new page with an entry that would be hugely fantastic...the problem is that I haven't had any hugely fantastic thoughts lately...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But I don't want my blog to be naked anymore. So, I'll just write whatever comes to mind and proceed from there, k?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I'm assuming that most of the people that are reading this already know me (or perhaps you're just a creepy blog stalker and you don't know anything about me?) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But maybe you already know that I am merely Miranda. I am nothing special, but completely unique. Ever changing, but always...Miranda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was on a playground today...swinging slowly and thinking about what makes our personalities. Is it something that is instilled in us when we're born, or is it something we create...constructing ourselves into what we want to be...choosing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;attributes&lt;/span&gt; that fit an image we desire to portray? I'm nothing at all like I was when I was younger...hardly the same as I was even in high school/early college. I'm ever evolving...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Am I responsible for becoming what I am...or do my circumstances and life &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;occurrences&lt;/span&gt; shape me? Maybe both. Probably. Being a bit of a control freak, I like to think that I hold most of the power. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Just for fun (or in case you're one of the folks that is lurking around in the earlier parenthesis), I'll type a few words that I believe describe some aspects of me. This list is by no means all inclusive. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; believe I could type enough words to paint myself on paper...and certainly not with 10 simple phrases. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But here goes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-obsessive compulsive (but not in the real, medically diagnosed way. My sister sometimes refers to me as "anal". I would say I'm just...particular.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-a picky eater...incredibly picky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-I have a healthy obsession with health (because how could an obsession with health not be healthy?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-a writer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-a runner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-fickle...and temperamental to go along with it. So watch out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-a lover of art...in all of its' forms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-a list maker. Lists keep me...sane. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-incredibly and sadly sentimental.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-blessed/cursed with a strong and vivid memory and imagination.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So. Aren't you glad you know me?...(or, again for those parenthesis lurkers, don't you want to know me?!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For the last two(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt;) years, I've been posting my thoughts on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;myspace&lt;/span&gt;. I'll likely post some of those blogs on here...or at least the links...because everyone should read what I've written.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6560344559849436892-339027404984021474?l=merelymiranda.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/feeds/339027404984021474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6560344559849436892&amp;postID=339027404984021474' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/339027404984021474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6560344559849436892/posts/default/339027404984021474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://merelymiranda.blogspot.com/2008/09/eh.html' title='Simply this...'/><author><name>miranda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11959471975138282028</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='27' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_502XeMoWvFQ/SdRBftbOXnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nhvVuMN2ilM/S220/guitar.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
