<?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-7732627154432095075</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:42:12.274-05:00</updated><category term='home'/><title type='text'>Never a dull moment</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-4010323409637066596</id><published>2009-11-01T18:01:00.022-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T17:33:50.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The many summer adventures of Brittany...with sidekick Kimberly Brown.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I have time on my hands so I've decided to blog. It was brought to my attention, some time ago, that I never did a blog about the summer and since there were so very many great adventures I feel it would be a tragedy to not share them with all of you fine blog readers. Thus, I shall share. The sharing will be in no particular order as it takes too much time and energy to think of what comes next in the correct order. Instead I am just going to go with whatever suites my fancy. Hopefully you will enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The summer started out with Kimberly and myself moving into an apartment together , a sure-fire recipe for entertainment. When we moved in Kim commented on how nice and kept up the place looked and how she especially like the cute picket fence. Within a week I had remedied that by running over a flower pot, which she turned around so you couldn't see the missing half, and backing into the, "cute picket fence". I did not hit the building that was on the other side, though and I was watching that very closely. I somehow forgot to watch the, "cute picket fence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2qYkMdI/AAAAAAAAALI/dh-c3jdyJlc/s1600-h/white+buff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404424945539494354" style="WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2qYkMdI/AAAAAAAAALI/dh-c3jdyJlc/s400/white+buff.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The fence came out much better than my car. However, later on someone else ran into the fence and smashed out a section. I feel that justice has been served.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2RCt3LI/AAAAAAAAALA/uRIRfNgSTd8/s1600-h/fence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404424938736966834" style="WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2RCt3LI/AAAAAAAAALA/uRIRfNgSTd8/s400/fence.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the beginning of the summer I decided to get thrifty with my laundry. It didn't work so well. I ended up collecting laundry off the fire escape, driveway, our yard and the Farmers yard. Talk about mortifying! The full story is in a previous post. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2dwI_SI/AAAAAAAAAK4/M_fc9IG_VUM/s1600-h/fe2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404424942148713762" style="WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2dwI_SI/AAAAAAAAAK4/M_fc9IG_VUM/s400/fe2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nice cable guy helped me retrieve my clothing out of the tree. Sadly, I did not get his number. It's a shame because such helpful men are quite hard to come by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2NuhxUI/AAAAAAAAAKw/PK2Tvu4D7Vk/s1600-h/cable+guy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404424937846981954" style="WIDTH: 176px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2NuhxUI/AAAAAAAAAKw/PK2Tvu4D7Vk/s400/cable+guy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kim and I had gone to Kroger to buy some groceries. While in the store we saw a mouse run right across the aisle and under the next set of shelves. I naturally went into a frenzy and Kim, naturally, became quite taken up with trying to shut me up. This only fueled my frenzy. *mischievous smile* We came out of Kroger to find a flat tire on my car which was not really my car. I was borrowing it due to the fact that my car had a blown head gasket. This car had no jack and no spare. *Exasperated sigh and totally non-mental eye-roll* This is how the summer began, fixing my car problems and Kim crashing her car. *Disclaimer-It wasn't her fault.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBZtxbmFdI/AAAAAAAAAKo/zXYGew1ILIs/s1600-h/DSCF3842.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404418195742660050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBZtxbmFdI/AAAAAAAAAKo/zXYGew1ILIs/s400/DSCF3842.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how Kimberly helped. She provided entertainment! Meanwhile Andrew flinched everytime I brought the tire iron down on the tire that he was holding. I was trying to beat the tire on while he held it in place. I didn't hit his hand even once! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBZtmhBRnI/AAAAAAAAAKg/HBHayuDWhk0/s1600-h/DSCF3843.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404418192812623474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBZtmhBRnI/AAAAAAAAAKg/HBHayuDWhk0/s400/DSCF3843.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mt Airy tree house. We saw a raccoon and Kim was quite enamored by him. I think she wanted to take him home but couldn't get close enough to catch him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBXOw-dPcI/AAAAAAAAAKI/CA-VCdTy1l0/s1600-h/DSCF3540.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404415464021245378" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBXOw-dPcI/AAAAAAAAAKI/CA-VCdTy1l0/s400/DSCF3540.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bishop camping trip. Every year we go camping on the beach for a week and every year we flood Ponderosa. There's at least 4 more tables behind them. We also hit up AJ's, take over the go-kart track and have heated, fend-for-yourself races. I won the first one last year and came second in the 2nd one. *proud smile* There generally ends up being at least 50 people on the trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBXOpTcY1I/AAAAAAAAAKA/aevOCqOkw70/s1600-h/DSCF3777.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404415461961786194" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBXOpTcY1I/AAAAAAAAAKA/aevOCqOkw70/s400/DSCF3777.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beach...drift wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQHE2YIoI/AAAAAAAAAJg/yU3qfZFTa18/s1600-h/DSCF3709.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404407635335717506" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQHE2YIoI/AAAAAAAAAJg/yU3qfZFTa18/s400/DSCF3709.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Charlie, Oh yah!, and Ellen. Charlie was our friend. He was a chair, a towel rack, a table and a log. We love Charlie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQIOlVctI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/z485zNUF1TM/s1600-h/DSCF3702.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404407655128462034" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQIOlVctI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/z485zNUF1TM/s400/DSCF3702.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We thought about taking it...we refrained. Charlie's in the background! Look, there's Charlie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQHy18FzI/AAAAAAAAAJw/AepJeHs_7es/s1600-h/DSCF3699.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404407647681910578" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQHy18FzI/AAAAAAAAAJw/AepJeHs_7es/s400/DSCF3699.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anna, Ellen, myself. One day we decided to go on a good long bike ride. At the end we climbed 211 stairs, I counted for us all, and got to the top of the look out. This is what was up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQHsvyRYI/AAAAAAAAAJo/jtSNVQC3Es8/s1600-h/DSCF3762.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404407646045488514" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQHsvyRYI/AAAAAAAAAJo/jtSNVQC3Es8/s400/DSCF3762.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't brush our teeth all week. Just kidding! We plastered air heads on our teeth during the day and at night cracked open glow sticks and set our teeth aglowin'. One night we also set the dog aglow by coloring on her with the liquid inside the glow stick. Sadly, I didn't get any pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQG2r5viI/AAAAAAAAAJY/s-YosnfAbNI/s1600-h/DSCF3677.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404407631533686306" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBQG2r5viI/AAAAAAAAAJY/s-YosnfAbNI/s400/DSCF3677.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before they got cracked open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwB96Wu2TmI/AAAAAAAAALY/_1StY2X_2a4/s1600-h/glowstick+halo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404457994332556898" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwB96Wu2TmI/AAAAAAAAALY/_1StY2X_2a4/s400/glowstick+halo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One dark night Kim and I were called into the police station as we had witnessed a heinous crime. OK, that's a lie...but we did have to go into the station. Anyway, one night about 11pm Mr. Miles, Kimberly and myself were sitting in the station, Kim and I were going to be interrogated. Mr. Miles was along for moral support. I asked the cop if he could shoot, He said, "yes". I asked if he could shoot well, he said, "No, his aim was not very good." I prayed he would never have to come to my rescue. I asked if I could shoot his gun, he said, "no". He questioned me. I asked if I got a souvenir...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what he gave me. It made me happy. =D It made Mr. Miles and Kim laugh and shake their heads. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwB_D_RCFwI/AAAAAAAAALg/9KdiDUn_kNc/s1600-h/DSCF3522.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404459259343804162" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwB_D_RCFwI/AAAAAAAAALg/9KdiDUn_kNc/s400/DSCF3522.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to put it to use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bNzHE7aI/AAAAAAAAAJI/itxNitz6uA8/s1600-h/DSCF3526.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399282927135944098" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bNzHE7aI/AAAAAAAAAJI/itxNitz6uA8/s400/DSCF3526.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bNh-IqJI/AAAAAAAAAJA/3MA0qyYYJIw/s1600-h/DSCF3527.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399282922535037074" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bNh-IqJI/AAAAAAAAAJA/3MA0qyYYJIw/s400/DSCF3527.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bNEU-0aI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Gr76Kofcs-I/s1600-h/DSCF3530.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399282914577797538" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bNEU-0aI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Gr76Kofcs-I/s400/DSCF3530.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun burn was a very big part of my summer as I insisted on being in the pool for hours and not using and sunblock at all. But...i didn't get sun poisoning this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bMzpjbKI/AAAAAAAAAIw/DuSlOGeaV1Y/s1600-h/DSCF3462.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399282910100679842" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4bMzpjbKI/AAAAAAAAAIw/DuSlOGeaV1Y/s400/DSCF3462.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smores where also a big part of the summer. Except for that time we caught the tree on fire. We decided not to make smores then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4YxrpQqOI/AAAAAAAAAIg/y7RgS_lnevA/s1600-h/DSCF3910.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399280245072242914" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4YxrpQqOI/AAAAAAAAAIg/y7RgS_lnevA/s400/DSCF3910.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michigan, home sweet home. It's beautiful, has lots of water and 2 types of people. The arrogant, rude ones with their noses stuck so far in the air that if it rained they'd drown...and the country folk.~~To take this pic I pulled over on the side of the highway and took off jogging down the highway due to the fact that I'd sorely misjudged the distance and parked a ways off but was not about to reenter traffic, drive a ways and pull off again. That'd look stupid and it looked a lot less stupid, I'm sure, to be running down the side of the road through grass up to my waste. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4YxG0JUxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/pzLtCi-S1Q0/s1600-h/DSCF3868.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399280235185787666" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4YxG0JUxI/AAAAAAAAAIY/pzLtCi-S1Q0/s400/DSCF3868.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a girls weekend during which we consumed exorbitant amounts of ice cream and watched too many movies. Later we decided to go hiking up the side of some Kentucky mountain. We performed many daring feats including but not limited to, jumping from precipice to precipice knowing that if we missed we'd fall to a sure death. OK so we may have gotten off lucky and been paralyzed. Due to my height restraints and the fact I'd just watched several much taller, and less intelligent, people barely make the jump I chose to forgo the last jump and shimmy down through the cracks in the rock. It was more work but seemed safer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBXPGm00-I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ravTV4RxefA/s1600-h/DSCF4041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404415469827707874" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBXPGm00-I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/ravTV4RxefA/s400/DSCF4041.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tempting fate and enjoying every moment. Tiffany was praying for my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4YwneHeTI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/QWkFQYINj0c/s1600-h/DSCF4049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399280226771892530" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4YwneHeTI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/QWkFQYINj0c/s400/DSCF4049.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One night Kimberly forgot her keys and asked if I wouldn't mind sending them down to her. I didn't mind. I constructed a rope out of Walmart bags and hung it off of our 3rd floor fire escape so when she got home that night she wouldn't be locked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4Ywe-BG6I/AAAAAAAAAII/x0LgKjoFjWA/s1600-h/DSCF4037.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399280224489773986" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4Ywe-BG6I/AAAAAAAAAII/x0LgKjoFjWA/s400/DSCF4037.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is how the summer ended. Still fixing my cars. And yes, I really truly was working on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4Yx7tXIRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/iu6mSNXGNhA/s1600-h/DSCF3995.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399280249384411410" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Su4Yx7tXIRI/AAAAAAAAAIo/iu6mSNXGNhA/s400/DSCF3995.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow, I feel like I have not even begun to capture the summer but this is getting rather lengthy and my patience is running rather short so this will be captured enough. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For your entertainment,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Brittany&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-4010323409637066596?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/4010323409637066596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=4010323409637066596' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/4010323409637066596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/4010323409637066596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/11/many-summer-adventures-of-brittanywith.html' title='The many summer adventures of Brittany...with sidekick Kimberly Brown.'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwBf2qYkMdI/AAAAAAAAALI/dh-c3jdyJlc/s72-c/white+buff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-8813136354735276216</id><published>2009-08-09T20:52:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T21:31:18.767-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I sit here nervously awaiting the news. Will Bilbo ever run again? Will I ever hear the sweet and slightly aggravating sound of him stalling out? What will become of him? I know it is Sunday but my ox, or rather my car, is in the ditch. And by "in the ditch" I mean, torn apart in the barn and needs to be put back together so I can go to work.  He has been torn apart and put back together so many times. His insides lying all over the floor on display for all to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y4CgAIgI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Lq74HCxQd_4/s1600-h/060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y4CgAIgI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Lq74HCxQd_4/s400/060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368135587918258690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's had so much work and yet, I get in and turn the key. The big moment is here, I can finally hear the sound my ears have longed to hear for almost 3 weeks. I turn the key and, "EEEEERRRRRRR" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; is most definitely NOT the sound I wanted to hear. He has several new gaskets, a new head gasket, fan, radiator, spark plugs, wires, cruise cable fixed, (Yes! I once again have cruise. It makes the incredible journey much easier.) flushed and refilled coolant, oil change and "eeeerrrr". WHAT?!? So, here we go again, taking him apart and fixing the timing. I have worked on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y4zEi8sI/AAAAAAAAAG4/f8EpUif_kZA/s1600-h/068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y4zEi8sI/AAAAAAAAAG4/f8EpUif_kZA/s400/068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368135600956437186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad has worked on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y5uMMbbI/AAAAAAAAAHI/MslwyCNaQVQ/s1600-h/062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y5uMMbbI/AAAAAAAAAHI/MslwyCNaQVQ/s400/062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368135616826207666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle has worked on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn90T7m1MDI/AAAAAAAAAHo/TMrnuSsh-UE/s1600-h/089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn90T7m1MDI/AAAAAAAAAHo/TMrnuSsh-UE/s400/089.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368137166615818290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have even sat there, enjoying my popsicle and offering silent moral support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9zrpIqYtI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/aoN_ozUfuKk/s1600-h/064.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9zrpIqYtI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/aoN_ozUfuKk/s400/064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368136474462675666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, he still does not run. How long? How long must I wait until I can once again feel the rev of first gear under my foot. Oh, I pray all goes well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-8813136354735276216?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/8813136354735276216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=8813136354735276216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/8813136354735276216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/8813136354735276216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-sit-here-nervously-awaiting-news.html' title=''/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/Sn9y4CgAIgI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Lq74HCxQd_4/s72-c/060.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-8693000833336929732</id><published>2009-06-12T23:29:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T00:50:43.738-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is Brittany, she's had a very unlucky day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeiSQ5xiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/2KoLMTsWKZI/s1600-h/car2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346650198013272946" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBv7aY3I/AAAAAAAAAFY/roerPeLhbqI/s400/sad+britt.jpg" /&gt; It all started about 10am when she was in her car driving along and listening to music. All of a sudden the music got quieter! What happened? Brittany used to have 6 speakers in her car, since all 3 on the dirvers side blew she now has 3. It was a very sad moment. However, not to be detered she turned up the music kept on going and hoped the day would not get any worse. It did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBYFlhEI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Okj_xa0qd6o/s1600-h/speaker1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346650191613494338" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBYFlhEI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Okj_xa0qd6o/s400/speaker1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBFMr4qI/AAAAAAAAAFI/FBE5233O8WY/s1600-h/speaker3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346650186542998178" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBFMr4qI/AAAAAAAAAFI/FBE5233O8WY/s400/speaker3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBGW9-uI/AAAAAAAAAFA/dA_BFV_pBiE/s1600-h/speaker2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346650186854562530" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBGW9-uI/AAAAAAAAAFA/dA_BFV_pBiE/s400/speaker2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That afternoon Brittany put 2 eggs in the microwave to boil. Before she knew what was happening, BANG!! the microwave blew up. She now has no microwave and eggs all over the kitchen. It's a very smelly kitchen. The microwave now sits out by the trash can waiting to be taken to the microwave retirement dump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeA9rUtnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/qU_ScmhcbQs/s1600-h/microwave+trash.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346650184524019314" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeA9rUtnI/AAAAAAAAAE4/qU_ScmhcbQs/s400/microwave+trash.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening Brittany made the mistake of deciding to get behind the wheel...again. Now, Brittany &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; a relatively dent and scratch free car and desired to keep it that way so as she was backing out of the driveway she watched the house on her passenger side very closely to make sure she did not hit it. While concentrating on not hitting the house on her passenger side Brittany forgot all about the fence on her drivers side...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMho2kZ7EI/AAAAAAAAAFo/5IHpMO5JPZQ/s1600-h/car2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346654168345603138" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMho2kZ7EI/AAAAAAAAAFo/5IHpMO5JPZQ/s400/car2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwwMlqdI/AAAAAAAAAEw/l4KR9EfwYi4/s1600-h/bad+day+car.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Brittany backed into the fence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwnV9zqI/AAAAAAAAAEo/gf485VpeRJs/s1600-h/white+buff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346649903650950818" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwnV9zqI/AAAAAAAAAEo/gf485VpeRJs/s400/white+buff.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The fence faired better than her car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwpnHqNI/AAAAAAAAAEg/iKD9zxsx0oY/s1600-h/fence.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346649904259770578" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwpnHqNI/AAAAAAAAAEg/iKD9zxsx0oY/s400/fence.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that same week Brittany decided to do laundry, (this is a good thing). Now, Brittany is from the country and there's nothing she loves better than crisp line dried clothes. Ok there are things she loves more but crisp line dried clothes is near the top of the list. Anyway, she decided that she would hang her clothes out on the fire escape (and hillbillify the place) to dry them. An hour later she found herself frantically climbing down the fire escape and running all over her own back yard as well as Dr. Farmers to retrieve her clothes that had flown off the fire escape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMjCLwov1I/AAAAAAAAAFw/9j5rsG3a2BY/s1600-h/fe1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 176px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346655703042408274" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMjCLwov1I/AAAAAAAAAFw/9j5rsG3a2BY/s400/fe1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346649900299697346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwa29vMI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Vk5gJHPUtRw/s400/fe2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After she climbed back up the fire escape she noticed a shirt, her favorite shirt, in the top of a tree the cable guy ( I think he was cable) was quickly coerced into pulling his ladder out of the front yard, into the back yard and climbing up the tree to retrieve the shirt. He was a very nice and helpful man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 176px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346649897962245794" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMdwSJrDqI/AAAAAAAAAEY/w6HO8by1WEE/s400/cable+guy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Brittany no longer parks in the driveway. She now parks on the street and she has decided that the dryer is almost as nice as line dried clothes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-8693000833336929732?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/8693000833336929732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=8693000833336929732' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/8693000833336929732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/8693000833336929732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/06/this-is-brittany-shes-had-very-unlucky.html' title=''/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SjMeBv7aY3I/AAAAAAAAAFY/roerPeLhbqI/s72-c/sad+britt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-2751324236224556302</id><published>2009-05-31T10:40:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T17:06:15.232-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Contry life; City Life</title><content type='html'>I sit in the barn waiting impatiently for Taylor to get the lawn mower out. The Explorer is parked right outside the door and we both know chances are good I'd hit it, so he drives the lawn mower out. He jumps off, I fly on and down the road I go! Legally I'm illegal but that's only a small issue. I'm speeding, as fast as a lawn mower can speed, down an alley now and feel no concern for something as trifle as the law. Besides that, the popo's know me around here and will simply escort me back home. I look down at my gast tank and realize my ride needs to come to an end soon, I head back. Upon returning I find my step brother, Bethany and Torie in the pool. They yell for me to come in, I have no desire to do so. It's 65 degrees outside and the water's freezing. I look at the lake across the street and wonder if &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; water's any warmer...my guess is no. I slowly walk into the house, I realize that I miss this. A lot. I miss the slow paced days that you fill with nothingness. There's no rush like there is in the city. Here, somehow everything always gets done. You find ways to entertain yourself. Horseback riding, quadding or when the quad is broke lawn mowering, cray fishing, swimming, reading, hide and go seek in the dark, taking a jaunt up to the ice cream shop, getting lost in the woods or just getting lost period which I seem to do quite a bit. I miss all of this. I miss the boredom of summer, when it's close to the end and you're just ready for a change. I miss making jam, picking row after row of beans and peas and canning anything and everything that will can. Picking bushel after bushel of apples and getting homemade applie pies, applesauce, dried apples anything apple you can think of. I miss the frigid cold of winter, making snowmen, snowball fights and building forts...that you don't get stuck in. It seems like in the city there's always some thing that &lt;em&gt;has&lt;/em&gt; to be done. Everything is urgent. Here, it's not so. Life just rolls along at a nice slow, sometimes too slow pace. It's a different life style up here. Their idea of excitement is when the news guy gets a hair cut. At times I love this other times I hate it. I guess there's no perfect place, you have to make the best of where you are and what you have. You have to learn to enjoy the present and not long for something 500 miles away. The city's not so bad, sure it's crowded and polluted and the cops don't know you on a first name basis but it still has a lot to offer. It helps you to become more aware, well rounded. You can still have fun it's just a different kind of fun. You can't always be where you most desire to be, so you have to learn to be content where you're at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's my rambling for the day. I'm gonna go ride the lawn mower now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-2751324236224556302?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/2751324236224556302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=2751324236224556302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/2751324236224556302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/2751324236224556302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/05/contry-life-city-life.html' title='Contry life; City Life'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-5743604956497912158</id><published>2009-05-08T21:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T21:44:07.285-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;One of God's great gifts to man kind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SgTfYTH5_sI/AAAAAAAAABY/zgSCd1z3QX0/s1600-h/cherry+chapstick.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333633467256798914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SgTfYTH5_sI/AAAAAAAAABY/zgSCd1z3QX0/s400/cherry+chapstick.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-5743604956497912158?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/5743604956497912158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=5743604956497912158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/5743604956497912158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/5743604956497912158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/05/one-of-gods-great-gifts-to-man-kind.html' title=''/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SgTfYTH5_sI/AAAAAAAAABY/zgSCd1z3QX0/s72-c/cherry+chapstick.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-2415011844396071594</id><published>2009-04-04T17:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T18:25:27.143-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Lesson #381</title><content type='html'>Someone once told me, "Brittany, you have to let them (them being a single person) go. It's like trying to hold on to a bar of soap in the shower, the harder you squeeze and try to hold on the faster they slip away." To this I replied, "Nuh-huh, you just dig in your nails and then you can hold it and it can't slip away." I think life is like this, you can't stop time, you cna't hang on to it forever. You can't pick the scene you like like best and stop your life there and keep it like that forever. You can try, but the harder you try the more it will feel like you are losing control and the faster it will slip away, and in the end you'll have been so concerned with hanging on to the scene that you'll have missed part of the play. Although at the time I did not agree with the person who told me the cheesy soap thing, I do now. I had to let them go and looking back it was best for all parties involved. You &lt;em&gt;can't&lt;/em&gt; hang on to people forever. You can dig your nails into the soap and hold it for a little longer but eventually it still slips away. Only difference is that now it is scarred and has cuts in it and you've tried that much harder and still not been able to hold it. You can try to "dig in" and do all in your power to keep life right where you want it and to hang on to people but in the end, if they're not meant to stay for life or it's not God's will that they become a life-long friend, they will still slip away. And if you've tried to hold on they will slip away with a little more hurt and scarring. I found this awhile back and I like it so here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Reason, A Season Or A Lifetime&lt;br /&gt;People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.&lt;br /&gt;When someone is in your life for a reason, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a god-send, and they are! They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part, or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, your desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered, and now it is time to move on.&lt;br /&gt;When people come into your life for a season, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They bring you an experience of peace, or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.&lt;br /&gt;Lifetime relationships teach you lifetime lessons; things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of whether the people in your life are here for a reason, a season or a lifetime, show them that you love them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-2415011844396071594?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/2415011844396071594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=2415011844396071594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/2415011844396071594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/2415011844396071594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/04/someone-once-told-me-brittany-you-have.html' title='Life Lesson #381'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-5426480375559547086</id><published>2009-02-05T23:17:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T20:19:11.314-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Guilt-the state of having committed an offense; remorse caused by feeling responsible for some offense.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the worst feelings in the world. Then comes the question, "why?" and the sick feeling in the pit of your very being and the intense desire to go back in time or possibly to disappear into thin air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Fear-be afraid or feel anxious or apprehensive about a possible or probable situation or event;an emotion experienced in anticipation of so me specific pain or danger (usually accompanied by a desire to flee or fight); be uneasy or apprehensive about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After guilt comes the fear. The fear of being caught, the fear of what comes next, the fear of what could have happened. There's a horrible mixture of guilt and fear, the sick feeling just got worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Confession-an admission of misdeeds or faults&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guilt and knowledge of your wrong doing wins out. The sick feeling becomes to strong to bear. You confess. The sick feeling lessens but is replaced with something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Anticipate-expect: regard something as probable or likely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Wait-remaining inactive in one place while expecting something&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray-address a deity, a prophet, a saint or an object of worship; say a prayer; "pray to the Lord" beg: call upon in supplication; entreat;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wait and pray. Wondering the whole time what is going to happen. Now you're not so sure if telling was the right thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Discussion-an act or instance of discussing; consideration or examination by argument, comment, etc., esp. to explore solutions; informal debate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the discussion. The waiting is now over, you now know what lies ahead, whether it's a punishment or being absolved the end is in sight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;End-termination; conclusion: an outcome or result&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just somehtign I wrote awhile ago and found. It made me laugh because Iw as writing this while in the &lt;em&gt;waiting&lt;/em&gt; phase and my outlook on the whole deal and life in general was pretty bleak. I obviously made it through and even came out with some entertainment...this. Anyway, Life is better now. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-5426480375559547086?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/5426480375559547086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=5426480375559547086' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/5426480375559547086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/5426480375559547086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2009/02/guilt-state-of-having-committed-offense.html' title=''/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-1597707830160151743</id><published>2008-12-26T12:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T12:41:52.580-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's all in the perspective</title><content type='html'>A couple days ago I was talking to a friend about this last semester. I said to her, "All in one semester I broke my arm and was in a cast for two months, got sick three times, quit one job, started a new job, got in three accidents, totaled one car, got strep throat, got three ear infections, got campused twice and got silly putty stuck in my hair!" She replied with, "Here's a thought, in one semester God helped you learn to rely on Him and others, have patience for two months, healed you three times, provided the right job, spared your life three times, provided a car, gave you the grace to deal with a small campus and made you stronger." It's all in how you look at it. I was looking at all the bad cards I'd been dealt most of them a direct result of my own actions, she was looking at all the awesome results that had come. That's how it is in life. You have two choices, you can dwell on the bad cards, circumstances, you've been dealt or you can look at all the good that has come your way and all the good that will result from these circumstances. It's not always easy to find the good, sometimes you really have to look, but it's always there. It's all in the perspective. People get down and out when something bad comes their way. When really all they need to do is quit focusing on the bad and instead look up and find not only the good but also a God who is right there watching them and taking care of them.  Even when things look impossible God still has control and He still know what is best. Is your glass half empty or half full? It's all in the perspective.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-1597707830160151743?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/1597707830160151743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=1597707830160151743' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/1597707830160151743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/1597707830160151743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2008/12/its-all-in-perspective.html' title='It&apos;s all in the perspective'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-7050671527300957484</id><published>2008-06-20T20:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T20:40:46.068-04:00</updated><title type='text'>how cool!</title><content type='html'>OK, s yesterday I was babysitting and my little boy walked for the first time! It was so cool! When I told his mom she came flying home. lol Yup, I bribed him with cheerios so that he would walk some more. It was exciting to see my work pay off. For the past 3 wks I have been walking Ben all around trying to get him to get the hang of it and get his balance and finally he walked. Awesomness! Anyway, I am going home for on the 4th of July and I will be home for 1 1/2-3wks depending on how long I can take it withoutwanting to shoot the fam. :) I am going camping for a week, no phones, no electricity, no TV, sleep in a tent(or camper whichever I feel like doing on any particular night), cook over a fire, pee inthe woods...j/k about the pee in the woods part. Yup, it's gonna be a blast! I am super excited and can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-7050671527300957484?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/7050671527300957484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=7050671527300957484' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/7050671527300957484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/7050671527300957484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2008/06/how-cool.html' title='how cool!'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-1477027563861194058</id><published>2008-06-17T23:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T23:32:47.922-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok so it's summer vaca and I am working and sleeping and being bored. Boredom and Brittany do not go together so well. When I get bored I get destructive! Bad idea for me to get bored. Right now I am tired and waiting for my kids dad to get home so I can go home(I am at work). Wait, I don't mean &lt;em&gt;my kids&lt;/em&gt; I mean my kids that I nanny for. Yah, anyways bye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-1477027563861194058?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/1477027563861194058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=1477027563861194058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/1477027563861194058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/1477027563861194058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2008/06/ok-so-its-summer-vaca-and-i-am-working.html' title=''/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-7544976204558160095</id><published>2008-05-22T23:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T23:25:22.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.soton.ac.uk/~imw/jpg-Hurst/7HCS-storm-Jan07.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmm, so I don't think I am so good at keeping up at this, I never have been. Oh well, I am over it. Sometimes you don't know why things happen. Sometimes it seems like there is no point in something. Sometimes you really just want to quit. Those are the times when you have to keep going. &lt;a href="http://www.wapacasting.com/wallpapers/peaceful_1280_rt77kg96i.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 156px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px" height="186" alt="" src="http://www.wapacasting.com/wallpapers/peaceful_1280_rt77kg96i.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Those are the times when you need to trust that there is a reason for all th&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;at is happening, that God knows what He is doing. Those are the times that when you get through them you will look back and realize that they did have a purpose, even if it was just to make you a better person. Things happen for a reason--&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;even when it doesn't seem like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-7544976204558160095?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/7544976204558160095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=7544976204558160095' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/7544976204558160095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/7544976204558160095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2008/05/random-thoughts.html' title='random thoughts'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7732627154432095075.post-7391226526929065535</id><published>2008-05-11T11:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T12:03:22.345-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Great day</title><content type='html'>OK, so I got to come home for mothers day, that totally made my day. However, it get's better! The weather is finally good up here so I could go out and go riding this weekend. Belle was so lazy, all she's done all winter is sit in the pasture and she wasn't all that thrilled to have to go out and do some work. By the time I finished riding though she had perked up and we were flying across the fields. Oh man, I wish I could ride in Cinci. I want to take her out one more time before I come back to GBS so I am going to shoot for Mon morn. That's about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7732627154432095075-7391226526929065535?l=bbrander.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/feeds/7391226526929065535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7732627154432095075&amp;postID=7391226526929065535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/7391226526929065535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7732627154432095075/posts/default/7391226526929065535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bbrander.blogspot.com/2008/05/great-day.html' title='Great day'/><author><name>Brittany</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12757015127544956543</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vaEjCECVxas/SwLabbSld7I/AAAAAAAAALw/uBgKhrVDFCo/S220/DSCF4000.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
