<?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-6682399247500786571</id><updated>2011-07-22T06:46:02.896-07:00</updated><category term='I love...'/><category term='Things I&apos;m going to buy one day.'/><category term='Pet Peeves'/><category term='Like a religion.'/><category term='Hurting.'/><category term='Quotes'/><category term='Poems'/><title type='text'>Just a Chick with Freckles</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6893561288306267927</id><published>2008-01-08T23:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T08:33:16.969-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hurting.'/><title type='text'>This Year...</title><content type='html'>This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;Heaven knows its high time&lt;br /&gt;And Ive been waiting on my own too long&lt;br /&gt;But when you hold me like you do&lt;br /&gt;It feels so right&lt;br /&gt;I start to forget&lt;br /&gt;How my heart gets torn&lt;br /&gt;When that hurt gets thrown&lt;br /&gt;Feeling like you cant go on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turning circles when time again&lt;br /&gt;It cuts like a knife oh yeah&lt;br /&gt;If you love me got to know for sure&lt;br /&gt;Cos it takes something more this time&lt;br /&gt;Than sweet sweet lies&lt;br /&gt;Before I open up my arms and fall&lt;br /&gt;Losing all control&lt;br /&gt;Every dream inside my soul&lt;br /&gt;And when you kiss me&lt;br /&gt;On that midnight street&lt;br /&gt;Sweep me off my feet&lt;br /&gt;Singing aint this life so sweet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So whose to worry&lt;br /&gt;If our hearts get torn&lt;br /&gt;When that hurt gets thrown&lt;br /&gt;Dont you know this life goes on&lt;br /&gt;And wont you kiss me&lt;br /&gt;On that midnight street&lt;br /&gt;Sweep me off my feet&lt;br /&gt;Singing aint this life so sweet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;This years love had better last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  David Gray ~ This Year's Love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6893561288306267927?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6893561288306267927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6893561288306267927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6893561288306267927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6893561288306267927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-am-hurting.html' title='This Year...'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6539772191240743364</id><published>2008-01-08T12:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T09:05:59.321-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hurting.'/><title type='text'>Inside.</title><content type='html'>I had a rough night last nigh. On top of just never being able to sleep... I'm sick of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get like this I know it... when one thing comes falling down the so called beer goggles of life come off and I am unhappy with everything. My work, my life, me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have trouble getting my boyfriend to have sex with me. It's almost like he's to shy most of the time. I feel like I am always the one getting it going. He doesn't make a sound, he doesn't seem to get into it, he won't 'play', all the things I want. Over the Christmas brake our one big not so good moment was because I shower come out there and 'showed' him my new underwear and went back into the bedroom... like come and get me. He doesn't come, so I finish getting ready and then he comes and wants to know why I'm dressed. So I tell him to undress me... 'I love when you undress me... rip my pants off' He wouldn't. Why wouldn't you do it? Why wouldn't you do it when you girlfriend is sitting there telling you this is what gets me going I love it when you do this, why wouldn't you do it? Even if it's not that great for you why wouldn't you pleasure her with such a easy task? So he said what ever and didn't want me. Nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night he showers and lays on the bed next to me watching TV... so I play with him for a little while and then ask him what else he wants me to do, what he likes... and he ignored me. Isn't that like... woo hoo when your girlfriend asks you what you want her to do now? I get so frustrated! Doesn't he even want me? So later in the night I get him going I get myself going and he knows it and tell him 'I just want you to want to have sex with me, I want to you pull me onto you or something' of course he couldn't do it. He can't and won't tell me why he doesn't care about how I feel and what I want. He can't and won't tell me why he doesn't want to tell me what he wants. I'm so freaking frustrated!!! So then I start thinking 'its me, what's wrong with me, I'm not attractive, now he's going to look at other woman on the Internet that are better than me in ever way and fill up that way when that should be done with me, what's wrong with me, he doesn't love me, what am I doing here, this is never going to work' and so on. What is the deal? I can't do this. He told me last night in the mist of our anger at each other that you can't ask for what you want 'you can't ask' Why the hell not? That's how you have good sex. I'm not a mind reader, your certainly not a mind reader... why the hell not???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him once to tell me what he likes in bed... he said he didn't know, that he's never had to think about it. What? How do you not know what you like in bed, what feels good, what turns you on. Are you kidding me? So he turned it around on me, 'well what do you like in bed' and of course I told him... I don't think he hear a word of it. I asked him last night if he gets uncomfortable when I ask him what he wants next he laughed and said 'not honey'. Then what the hell is the problem?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now today I'm hurting, I feel like I should just end it and give up even though I love him. I guess I wouldn't have such a problem with not having sex if I felt like he loved me most days. Sometimes I feel like someone who is this good to me can't not love me... other day's I feel like I'm just some to taxi him around when he wants to drink and to clean up after him. Nice. I feel like we've made so much progress. He's asked for a hug twice from me. We had a talk about why he can't love anyone. But this ... this I am baffled and deeply hurt by.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6539772191240743364?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6539772191240743364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6539772191240743364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6539772191240743364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6539772191240743364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2008/01/inside.html' title='Inside.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-5737091019847937652</id><published>2008-01-07T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T11:45:24.600-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><title type='text'>A simple quote.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/R4KAwAj3OiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Q9lUgrkLJgs/s1600-h/hydrangea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/R4KAwAj3OiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Q9lUgrkLJgs/s200/hydrangea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152822485937764898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The joy in life is not in hearing the words I love you but, in being lucky enough to say I love you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-5737091019847937652?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/5737091019847937652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=5737091019847937652' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/5737091019847937652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/5737091019847937652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2008/01/simple-quote.html' title='A simple quote.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/R4KAwAj3OiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Q9lUgrkLJgs/s72-c/hydrangea.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6646234004054379356</id><published>2008-01-04T11:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T08:57:12.624-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Christmas Holiday.</title><content type='html'>Back from the holiday, back to bloody work. It's not that work is that bad, I get away with a lot where I am... but I'm just so freaking board!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had off for a week + for the holidays and slept so good. But wouldn't you know it on the eve before going back to work I didn't sleep a wink, or the next day or last night. What does that say about my feelings towards work? Need I say more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting back to my holiday, this year it went really well. WOO-HOO! Normally I feel like I'm being pulled in 25 different directions. I get so stressed out that I'd rather just go away somewhere for the holiday and then come back when it's all over. I enjoy being with my boy friends family, their all really out going never sitting always mingling, my family on the other hand... I love them but they are boring. We sit on the sofa twirling our thumbs in our laps. It's just not a good time. Normally I wouldn't mind so much, I would find something to do, but when I'm sitting there wondering what to do I know it's got to be so much worse for my boyfriend who isn't at his childhood home and that just makes me more uncomfortable. Then in the previous years our family's schedules always clashed and if you were me where would you decide to go? So I end up in the middle of hurting my mom's feelings and making it seem like my boyfriend is the one that really wants to go to his family's. With all this said I am happy to say one more time, with a since of calmness rushing within me, that this year it all worked out! His family did their thing on Christmas Eve, my family did theirs on Christmas day. Simple enough and yet so calming when I look back. I actually got to enjoy the holiday, I wish I would have been more in the spirit... but you can't have your cake and eat it too, and I'm okay with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you all had a nice holiday too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6646234004054379356?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6646234004054379356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6646234004054379356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6646234004054379356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6646234004054379356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2008/01/christmas-holiday.html' title='The Christmas Holiday.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-5230685715444598806</id><published>2007-11-20T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T10:19:04.537-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poems'/><title type='text'>I am.</title><content type='html'>I am the perfect day&lt;br /&gt;That dark storm clouds hang over&lt;br /&gt;The rain pushing at the seams&lt;br /&gt;to let go and cry&lt;br /&gt;A nice comfortable breeze&lt;br /&gt;Which lets you know your real&lt;br /&gt;Happy and sad&lt;br /&gt;Colliding&lt;br /&gt;Heavy hearted&lt;br /&gt;But relieved&lt;br /&gt;Warm on the inside&lt;br /&gt;Yet cold on the outside&lt;br /&gt;A butterfly&lt;br /&gt;Hiding in her cocoon&lt;br /&gt;A rainbow&lt;br /&gt;With no pot of gold&lt;br /&gt;The excited wind&lt;br /&gt;That can't decied where to go.&lt;br /&gt;A little boy who runs from his mother&lt;br /&gt;but cries when he's lost&lt;br /&gt;The restless rain &lt;br /&gt;With no sound&lt;br /&gt;A soul&lt;br /&gt;Who has no mate&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful song&lt;br /&gt;Filled with pain&lt;br /&gt;I am everything&lt;br /&gt;And nothing at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-5230685715444598806?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/5230685715444598806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=5230685715444598806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/5230685715444598806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/5230685715444598806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-am.html' title='I am.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6251964307723888150</id><published>2007-11-15T08:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T05:26:07.073-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I love...'/><title type='text'>Dave</title><content type='html'>I was watching Dave Matthews Band last night on storytellers, God I love Dave. Such an amazing music man, band. I love how when you watch him you feel the song... he doesn't just sing to you he helps, shows you how to feel the song. It's amazing. Just like John Mayer... when you watch John you feel the music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be a music man for a living, that's got to be the all time best job. To sing and feel, fulfill your soul everyday and fulfill others just by sharing your soul has got to be the all time high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love music, I think I have finally figured out if I had to choose between loosing my eyes or ears... I would have to loose my eyes. Without music I think I would die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6251964307723888150?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6251964307723888150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6251964307723888150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6251964307723888150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6251964307723888150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/11/dave.html' title='Dave'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-3337752243785659442</id><published>2007-08-20T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T05:18:50.341-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I just don't know.</title><content type='html'>This weekend was a bit... rough to say the least. My boy friend was suppose to go to a bachelor party this weekend and was to be leaving early morning on Saturday. Instead we were woken with terrible horrible news. His best friends little sister died in a house fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you react to that? I just don't know. How do you comfort someone having to go though with that? It was and is going to be rough this past weekend and this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met her once, so pretty and outgoing ... her whole life a head of her. Over the past few days, feeling like a spectator more than help, I've just been a witness to her life being unfolded in front of me, hearing about this amazing life, amazing person and how it was cut short. Part of me can't even comprehend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to send thoughts and prayers out to the family's that are suffering these losses. Know that you are not alone. I'm so sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-3337752243785659442?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/3337752243785659442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=3337752243785659442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/3337752243785659442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/3337752243785659442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-just-dont-know.html' title='I just don&apos;t know.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-495194160745053220</id><published>2007-08-18T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T09:08:22.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturated.</title><content type='html'>I’m saturated with stress, dripping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I’m consumed with stress I start doubting. Doubting me, my life… everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been listening to David Gray lately. So here for your reading pleasure... My oh my.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What on earth is going on in my heart&lt;br /&gt;Has it turned as cold as stone&lt;br /&gt;Seems these days I don't feel anything&lt;br /&gt;Less it cuts me right down to the bone&lt;br /&gt;What on earth is going on in my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My oh my you know it just don't stop&lt;br /&gt;It's in my mind I wanna tear it up&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to fight it tried to turn it off&lt;br /&gt;But it's not enough&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love my friend&lt;br /&gt;To keep your heart from freezing&lt;br /&gt;To push on till the end&lt;br /&gt;My oh my&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What on earth is going on in my head&lt;br /&gt;You know I used to be so sure&lt;br /&gt;You know I used to be so definite&lt;br /&gt;Thought I knew what love was for&lt;br /&gt;I look around these days and I'm not so sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My oh my you know it just don't stop&lt;br /&gt;It's in my mind I wanna tear it up&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to fight it tried to turn it off&lt;br /&gt;But it's not enough&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love my friend&lt;br /&gt;To keep your heart from freezing&lt;br /&gt;To push on till the end&lt;br /&gt;My oh my you know I just can't win&lt;br /&gt;I burn it down it comes right back again&lt;br /&gt;What kinda world is this we're living in&lt;br /&gt;where you never win&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love these days&lt;br /&gt;To keep your heart from freezing&lt;br /&gt;To keep your spirit free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My oh my you know it just don't stop&lt;br /&gt;It's in my mind I wanna tear it up&lt;br /&gt;I've tried to fight it tried to turn it off&lt;br /&gt;But it's not enough&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lotta love my friend&lt;br /&gt;To keep your heart from freezing&lt;br /&gt;To push on till the end&lt;br /&gt;My oh my it just don't stop&lt;br /&gt;My oh my it just don't stop&lt;br /&gt;My oh my it just don't stop&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-495194160745053220?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/495194160745053220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=495194160745053220' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/495194160745053220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/495194160745053220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/08/saturated.html' title='Saturated.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-2430925497275114304</id><published>2007-08-13T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T09:09:04.473-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pet Peeves'/><title type='text'>Come on now.</title><content type='html'>Sorry guys, it's been a little while. Life has just been a little up and down lately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a couple things... What is wrong with people and the way they drive now a days. I just... and shocked by people. 1st off the left lane is for passing. If your not the fasted person passing... let them pass you. Don't get in the lane and think it's the 'fast' lane... your wrong it's for passing. I can see where the confusion might have come into play. You have to go fast to pass, so don't get into the left lane thinking you can do 10 over the speed limit and be okay. NO! You need to be going faster than everyone else! 2nd if there is a sign telling you to merge because your lane if running out... don't wait for the lane to run out and assume that you will have somewhere to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's gotten to the point that when I drive I just, honestly, think about ramming people! About the reaction that my ramming action would cause for me and I weigh them. Needless to say at this point in my life I don't think I want the headache that would come along with going though with it... but let me tell you there are many close calls. I think I'm going to start honking at people even for other people now. I think more people need to start honking. I wasn't always a honker, I blame my boyfriend for this new found noise that I make when I'm driving. I'm not a big honker yet, but I'm getting there! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People on the road just amaze me. And old people are no exception! They have no excuse if you ask me. My 84 year old grand mother still cruses down the road like I would ... so in my eyes they have no excuse. If you can keep up with the times then you need to retire your driving days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I hope everyone had a nice weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-2430925497275114304?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/2430925497275114304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=2430925497275114304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/2430925497275114304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/2430925497275114304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/08/come-on-now.html' title='Come on now.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6531705154458747624</id><published>2007-07-31T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T09:09:30.017-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Things I&apos;m going to buy one day.'/><title type='text'>Rose Colored Glasses.</title><content type='html'>Another thing I'm going to have to buy one day, possibly soon. Rose colored glasses. Everything must be happier and nicer though rose colored glasses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/Rq8TqJDEJOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/w2pFlqjPeus/s1600-h/Rose+colored+glasses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/Rq8TqJDEJOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/w2pFlqjPeus/s200/Rose+colored+glasses.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093311318283527394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6531705154458747624?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6531705154458747624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6531705154458747624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6531705154458747624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6531705154458747624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/rose-colored-glasses.html' title='Rose Colored Glasses.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/Rq8TqJDEJOI/AAAAAAAAAAU/w2pFlqjPeus/s72-c/Rose+colored+glasses.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-4415686536089953299</id><published>2007-07-30T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T06:04:24.387-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Things I&apos;m going to buy one day.'/><title type='text'>Easy Button</title><content type='html'>I want to get me an easy button, just for the hell of having one.  I'm going to sit it on my desk just to push it and pretend, hope, wish that it was like the commercials.  :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/Rq3hZpDEJNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XK4acrq8of0/s1600-h/easy_button.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/Rq3hZpDEJNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XK4acrq8of0/s200/easy_button.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092974584257586386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-4415686536089953299?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/4415686536089953299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=4415686536089953299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/4415686536089953299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/4415686536089953299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/easy-button.html' title='Easy Button'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DsR3lXNjybo/Rq3hZpDEJNI/AAAAAAAAAAM/XK4acrq8of0/s72-c/easy_button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-73747343024401990</id><published>2007-07-30T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T05:31:14.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday, Monday</title><content type='html'>Monday, Ick.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's going to be a long day.  Friday was a freaking long day.  My weekend wasn't too bad, which always helps.  Saturday morning I finished unpacking… finally, then in the evening we had a birthday get together to go to and that was nice.  Then on Sunday we just relaxed.  Went to Dunkin Donuts in the morning, watched a couple of movies and just relaxed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was everyone else's weekend?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-73747343024401990?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/73747343024401990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=73747343024401990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/73747343024401990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/73747343024401990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/monday-monday.html' title='Monday, Monday'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-784073289179512245</id><published>2007-07-26T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T11:43:12.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recent Events</title><content type='html'>The other week my mom was admitted into the hospital, not for long… just a night.  She couldn't breathe; they found a blood clot in her lungs.  Blood clots normally start in the legs and work their way up and every now and then they can start in your heart, from what I understand.  Therefore she may have more.  I feel like this whole situation is, going down hill, it doesn't seem to be getting any better.  Worse, I would say things are worse, and it's not supposed to get worse.  She's still so young, only in her 40's, I'm still so young, my sister, her God-daughter… were all still so young and all I can think about is I almost lost my mom.  Were all so young and I almost lost my mom, I could loose my mom still, it's not over.  Everything would be different.  I almost lost my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone keeps telling her that she's got to have a guardian angle because most people don't live though a blood clot in their lungs.  The doctor told her that if it gets worse or she gets another one she will die.  Thanks doc!  They put her on blood thinners, and I feel like they took the snow globe, of our lives, turned it upside down and shook!  Shook hard.  Now she's seeing all these doctors and it seems like another one is added to the list weekly.  She's in pain, tired and peeing blood every time she goes to the bathroom.  The doctors don't seem to care.  WHY DON'T YOU CARE!  They saved my mom's life once do they just think ' oh my job is done, everyone's only got one get out of free jail card and then we wash are hand of you'?  I don't understand.  Ugh!  It's so frustrating, stressful, and all the while I just try to keep my happy face on like everything's okay but all I can think is… I almost lost my mom,… I could loose my mom… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never noticed how greatly she impacted my life, my everyday life, why didn't I notice this.  I feel like… like I need to get on the ball I've wasted all this time and I might not have much left.  Am I over reacting?  Everyday it's like a daily check in, everyday something new happens or something gets worse and like I said the doctors don't seem to care.  This is a mother, my mother, she's peeing blood the whole world should stop, more test need to be ran, DO SOMETHING, call her back at least.  This morning she peed a clot!  How is it that she's peeing blood and their telling her that 'you're peeing it because your blood's too thin' but it's still clotting?  This drug could be killing my mom and no one wants to help her, help us.  What will I do if she's taken from me?  How am I suppose to do anything when everyday it seems like I'm getting closer and closer to loosing her?  I could loose my mom.  This shouldn't be allowed.  I'm not prepared.  I need some reassurance that everything's going to be okay, that she'll still be here for another 40 years.  Someone help, I could loose my mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-784073289179512245?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/784073289179512245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=784073289179512245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/784073289179512245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/784073289179512245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/recent-events.html' title='Recent Events'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6649588464697047416</id><published>2007-07-25T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T09:33:42.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thunderstorms</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;This is just a cute e-mail I received at work the other day and wanted to share.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little girl walked to and from school daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were&lt;br /&gt;forming, she made her daily trek to the elementary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with thunder&lt;br /&gt;and lightning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mother of the little girl felt concerned that her daughter would be&lt;br /&gt;frightened as she walked home from school and she herself feared that&lt;br /&gt;the electrical storm might harm her child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Full of concern, the mother quickly got into her car and drove along&lt;br /&gt;the route to her child's school. As she did so, she saw her little&lt;br /&gt;girl walking along, but at each flash of lightning, the child would&lt;br /&gt;stop, look up and smile. Another and another were to follow quickly&lt;br /&gt;and with each the little girl would look at the streak of light and smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the mother's car drew up beside the child she lowered the window&lt;br /&gt;and called to her, "What are you doing?" The child answered, "I am&lt;br /&gt;trying to look pretty. God keeps taking my picture."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6649588464697047416?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6649588464697047416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6649588464697047416' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6649588464697047416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6649588464697047416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/thunderstorms.html' title='Thunderstorms'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-9053420207030057272</id><published>2007-07-25T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T09:37:52.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishing to be back at the beach.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Afternoon blog buddies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Another wonderful day at wonderful work. Maybe I should think about moving, moving to the beach. I can't even imagine having that to look forward to every day, I can't imagine something like that getting old. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I know I should start looking for 'my real' career when every day seems to be a bad one. People just amaze me. I've been told some many times by so many people that I'm so wise beyond my years and I just always thought that my feelings and actions were just common since. I am finding out differently.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The company I work for... I guess could be considered young, were still learning and growing. I've been here for two and a half years and almost half of the office staff that was here when I started are now gone. The trend seems to be all the people that have been here since the start are, more or less, running all the newer people out. It's gotten worse as of lately, but anyway that's not what I'm getting at. When I started working here there were two other girls here that were about my age and we started this 'you've worked here to long if... ' like Jeff Foxworthy's 'your a redneck if...' . Oh those were the good old days. I think my work is trying to become more corporate like now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I have a younger sister, she's just coming into the real world. She's got so much to learn. I can remember thinking 'what else can there really be' or something to the affect of that. Boy is there just so much more. I feel like I was just so much more advanced then she is right now and ... well I feel like I need to shield her from the world or prepare her more. But you can't, most of these thing, life experiences you can't comprehend until your there. I sure try though, I get frustrated a lot of the time because it seems to go in one ear and out the other. What can you do? Just be there when she needs someone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well I'll Chaim in a little later today I'm sure. Till then! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-9053420207030057272?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/9053420207030057272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=9053420207030057272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/9053420207030057272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/9053420207030057272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/wishing-to-be-back-at-beach.html' title='Wishing to be back at the beach.'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-2253006949299786516</id><published>2007-07-25T02:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T11:21:12.556-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I love...'/><title type='text'>Rain</title><content type='html'>It's raining out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the rain, it has so many feelings. There can be something so calming about the rain, or sexual, lazy, welcoming or even curl up on the sofa and watch movies all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family has a cottage up in the mountains, when it storms the thunder is almost defining. I love it... I love feeling the thunder roll down the street. It's exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does all this sound silly? Or do others feel this way too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-2253006949299786516?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/2253006949299786516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=2253006949299786516' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/2253006949299786516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/2253006949299786516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/rain.html' title='Rain'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-4987478686368934503</id><published>2007-07-24T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T14:15:49.689-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I love...'/><title type='text'>Polka - Dots!</title><content type='html'>Polka-Dots ~ I love polka - dots!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-4987478686368934503?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/4987478686368934503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=4987478686368934503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/4987478686368934503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/4987478686368934503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/polka-dots.html' title='Polka - Dots!'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-6187810554701649287</id><published>2007-07-24T17:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T14:09:48.235-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Like a religion.'/><title type='text'>The beach</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a wonderful much needed vacation. Life has gotten a little out of hand lately and it was so nice to get away. I went with my boyfriend and some of his family. We rented a couple of condos that were right on the beach, we had balconies over looking the water. Water as far as the eye can see, I loved it. I love the beach! I love the sound of the waves crashing, I love how they can just ... flow right though you, how the sound can just flow right though you like you have become part of the ocean. Gosh I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; just being silly, it sounds silly on paper, I don't know how to describe it. All I know is when I'm there, listening, it just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;allows&lt;/span&gt; my soul to become free, to forget everything. It's amazing. Like a religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say I did have a wonderful time. I came back &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprisingly&lt;/span&gt; tan with a replenished &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;apatite&lt;/span&gt; for life. Nothing better than that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-6187810554701649287?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/6187810554701649287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=6187810554701649287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6187810554701649287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/6187810554701649287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/beach.html' title='The beach'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6682399247500786571.post-3971593769174259256</id><published>2007-07-24T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T13:59:08.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My 1st Post!</title><content type='html'>I figure since this is my 1st post it should be a happy one or more up beat, to give a good 1st impression. Let me tell you a little about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't figured it out ... I'm a chick, well, ... with freckles. :) One of my roommates in school use to say 'A face without freckles is like a sky without stars' she had more freckles then I have by far though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a relationship with a wonderful man and hope that it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blossoms&lt;/span&gt; into a wonderful, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;beautiful&lt;/span&gt; life. He treats me very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two cats, Titus and Charlie, both boys. I pick Titus up from the shelter when he was a few months old, he's about a year and a few months now. Black and white, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;perfect&lt;/span&gt; tux, and full of personality. Charlie is orange and white and such a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Gemini&lt;/span&gt;, split personality and all. Their cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a job that isn't going to be my career and that's okay for now... I'm still young, as my friend likes to tell people 'she's still under warranty'. It's what I like to call my 1st 'real' job and am learning quite a bit about the working world. I've been there for ... two and a half years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway I hope you all stay tuned. Thanks for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;dropping&lt;/span&gt; by!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6682399247500786571-3971593769174259256?l=chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/feeds/3971593769174259256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6682399247500786571&amp;postID=3971593769174259256' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/3971593769174259256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6682399247500786571/posts/default/3971593769174259256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chickwithfreckles.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-1st-post.html' title='My 1st Post!'/><author><name>Just a Chick with Freckles.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11406274105952727048</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
