<?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-3738052498404539901</id><updated>2011-07-30T09:05:52.569-07:00</updated><category term='story'/><category term='Introductions'/><category term='Welcome'/><title type='text'>.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-630914195952892532</id><published>2010-02-22T16:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T16:29:36.748-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Randi's Top Ten (for the week ending 2/20)</title><content type='html'>Here they are in descending order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  No School on Monday--we got to sleep in!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  Lost Daisy, but found her again 24 hours-plus later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Mother/Daughter Relief Society Meeting with Debbie West Coon!  It was so inspiring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Date Night!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.   Yay for vacuums!   Coming home from date night to find the upstairs loft covered in hamster food, toothpaste in the carpet, and deoderant rubbed all over the television set!  Yahoo!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Listening to Michael practice the bass into the late hours of the night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Hailey writes a song!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Audrey finishes all of her homework early, and so has no homework for the entire week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  The Olympics!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Hailey wins 2nd place at the CAC Middle School Math Competition (out of 10 schools).  And her school came in 3rd!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a week!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-630914195952892532?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/630914195952892532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2010/02/randis-top-ten-for-week-ending-220.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/630914195952892532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/630914195952892532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2010/02/randis-top-ten-for-week-ending-220.html' title='Randi&apos;s Top Ten (for the week ending 2/20)'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-1551409950788283056</id><published>2010-02-19T07:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T08:47:45.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreak</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know I am a horrible blogger. My excuse is that I don't have the time or energy, but I need to make the time. Not because I want the whole world to know about every detail of my life, but because I need to express myself, and well...journal writing is too hard. It is easier and faster to type it all up. So I have resolved that I am going to do this, because I need an outlet. And if you all want to follow along, then that is fine. But don't blame me if some of the subject matter is boring and/or uncomfortable for you. Hehehehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;LIFE IS HARD!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Just saying...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Right now it seems like not much is going very well at all. Not to be a whiner, but I am having a really hard time right now. I think because I have all sorts of ages in the house, and because each age comes with its own set of unique problems, I have a lot of drama in my house. I can list it if you would like:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1. Michael's hair--this has become an issue in our ward. IN OUR WARD! What?! It seems that there are people in our ward who have complained to the Bishop about Michael's hair, and so the Bishop pulled Michael aside and told him that he needed to get a haircut and change his hair back to its normal color. And he gave him an ultimatum...he may not pass the sacrament or be the Teacher's Quorum President (which he has already been called to, but not sustained) until he does this. So of course, we have been having major discussions in our home about this. And of course Michael doesn't want to do either, and he is fine with not performing his priesthood duties. Arggghh! What is a parent to do? I am mad. Not only at the people in our ward who can't mind their own business, but also because as a parent I had chosen not to make Michael's hair an issue, and now I am forced to support the Bishop. I feel like my rights as a parent have been ignored. If anybody has any great advice on how to handle this whole situation, it would be greatly appreciated. I love Michael in spite of and because of his hair! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;MICHAEL'S HAIR: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439988924596720322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/S365GsilksI/AAAAAAAAAoM/OLPZFIAUXRM/s320/DSC02061.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2. Hailey is friendless. Well, that is not entirely true. But it is how she feels in our ward. Last night we went to a Mother/Daughter Relief Society meeting and she ended up crying. And it is because there was a group of young women sitting at a table, and none of them bothered to talk to her. I felt so bad for her. She sat with me and my friends, but she did not interact with any of the girls there. She says she feels like none of the girls in the ward like her. She says that none of the beehives in her class talk to her and that is why she has been bringing her non-member friend, Whitni, to mutual for the past year. Just so she could have someone to talk to. (She deserves lots of pats on the back for the missionary work she has been doing with Whitni--she wants to be baptized). It has been this way for the past 2 years that we have been in this ward. She doesn't feel included, and nobody really talks to her. She has such a sparkly personality, and she really does make an effort to talk to the girls, but they don't seem to respond to her. It's not just her imagination--I have observed this as well. IT BREAKS MY HEART! I wish I could just shake all of the girls! I'm sure they don't do it on purpose--they already have their friends, and don't really think about how it feels for someone who is trying to make friends. But Hailey has LOTS of friends at school, and she really shines there! I love my Hailey Bug!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;WHO WOULDN'T LOVE THIS GIRL?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439993446434996098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/S369N5s1_4I/AAAAAAAAAoU/LjVHOx16lNE/s320/161.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3. Audrey is really feeling the Middle Child Syndrome. She gets upset easily, and lately has been very clingy to me. I know it because she is feeling forgotten and neglected in all of the teenage drama that we have been dealing with. And also because the two little boys get much, much attention. I think she is a little jealous. But that is a problem that is more easily remedied. I know exactly how to fix her problem. It is just about finding a way to give her more of the attention that she deserves. I really do love my Audrey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;MIDDLE CHILD:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439994478027230610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/S36-J8rmTZI/AAAAAAAAAok/2R09k9D6f9k/s320/DSC02088.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4 &amp;amp; 5. I am going to put Dylan and Jacob together--because they are the Destructive Duo! My house looks like a tornado struck every day, and I never seem to be able to get it set in order before the next wave! I wish I had a housekeeper and a cage! They are my sweet, sweet boys, but they exhaust me. By the end of the day I am drained! Love my two little ones!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;THE DESTRUCTIVE DUO:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439993978849495250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/S369s5GWiNI/AAAAAAAAAoc/IgXQfDtDXy0/s320/DSC02230.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So there you have it in a nutshell. I am having a hard time being a parent. I feel so inadequate and alone sometimes. I really don't have too many friends out here, and most of the people I know are half my age and their biggest issue is potty-training. Teenagers are a whole 'nother can of worms. I feel like a miserable failure as a mother! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;On the up side--we are seriously considering moving to the property. Even without the big house done. We would move into the little house as soon as Steve can get it finished, and live in it until we could get the big house built. Hopefully only about a year or so. It depends how the house flipping goes. I guess I can't call him Farm Boy anymore. Maybe Bob Villa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-1551409950788283056?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/1551409950788283056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2010/02/heartbreak.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/1551409950788283056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/1551409950788283056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2010/02/heartbreak.html' title='Heartbreak'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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/_V0FfeCQVn3U/S365GsilksI/AAAAAAAAAoM/OLPZFIAUXRM/s72-c/DSC02061.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-4474745236906606035</id><published>2009-08-14T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T14:42:03.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Second Time is a Charm?</title><content type='html'>OOOPS, I DID IT AGAIN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got myself nominated for PTSO Secretary at Harmon Elementay (Audrey's school).  I vowed I was never going to do that again after the Oak Tree scandal.  But, my goodlier nature won over and I put myself out there again.  (Plus, I am bored with nothing to do all day, but sit and watch TV).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT WAS I THINKING? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah, I wasn't thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the 2nd time is a charm.  I have to keep telling myself that, because I really don't want to believe that only the 3rd time is a charm.  That wouldn't bode well for this term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promise that my personal tragedies will not interefere with my ability to do good PTSOing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't know what the Oak Tree scandal was, call me sometime.  I'll let you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-4474745236906606035?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4474745236906606035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/08/second-time-is-charm.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/4474745236906606035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/4474745236906606035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/08/second-time-is-charm.html' title='Second Time is a Charm?'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-3917277071169135479</id><published>2009-08-08T23:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T09:48:16.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Randi's Top Ten (for the week starting 8/2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;10. First Day of School!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Painted bookshelves for the computer room, and finally unpacked the rest of the many boxes of books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Actually got a 1 hour nap once this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Michael achieved Life Scout!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Jacob is crawling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Hailey auditioned for "Willy Wonka" on Friday--won't know if she makes it until next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Father's Blessings!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Washed the car for the first time in 6 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Started reading "The Last Sin Eater"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND THE NUMBER ONE ITEM IS...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Hailey got her hair highlighted and it looks so cute! (Thanks, Nat) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368006183149619234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/Sn79LsK7yCI/AAAAAAAAAk8/7bWBGkRn3fU/s200/153.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368006199352710514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/Sn79MoiDVXI/AAAAAAAAAlM/SCS7Q38UK9o/s200/161.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368006768733436898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/Sn79txo_u-I/AAAAAAAAAlU/NDXVepmYFkQ/s200/158.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-3917277071169135479?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/3917277071169135479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/08/randis-top-ten-for-week-starting-82.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/3917277071169135479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/3917277071169135479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/08/randis-top-ten-for-week-starting-82.html' title='Randi&apos;s Top Ten (for the week starting 8/2)'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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/_V0FfeCQVn3U/Sn79LsK7yCI/AAAAAAAAAk8/7bWBGkRn3fU/s72-c/153.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-2859968999051576846</id><published>2009-07-02T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T23:25:22.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pinata</title><content type='html'>I wish I was Hispanic.  Because then I would be a pinata expert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried really hard to make a cute pinata for the 4th of July BBQ, and it  didn't quite work.  I had a vision of an elaborately simple American flag pinata that I could whip up in a couple of hours using the tried and true papier mache method of construction.  How hard could that be?  I have never had trouble making pinatas before--all one of them.  (Of course, I have always made round papier mache items using balloons as my base, so how difficult could it be to move on to a rectangular object?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked all afternoon on my papier mache box--even putting it in the oven to speed up the drying process.  I made 6 panels--that was not hard--just a bunch of newspaper strips soaked in flour paste.  The difficult part was trying to put all of the panels into some sort of shape--they dried all warpy, and didn't match up very well.  We got most of it put together, and Farm Boy (who should stick to farming and quit trying to be artistic) said it could work if we made the pinata look like the flag waving in the breeze.  More like a tornando, if you ask me!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I ran out of flour and so I made a trip to Wal-Mart to pick up some more flour, so I could finish my project. I got my flour and was walking to the cash register to pay for it, when I saw a pinata, just waiting for a good home.  And since it was on clearance, I justified the purchase.  Good-bye tornado tortured star-spangled banner; hello lovely star-shaped pinata that was made in China!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I would have more luck with pinatas, if I was Chinese...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-2859968999051576846?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2859968999051576846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/07/pinata.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/2859968999051576846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/2859968999051576846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/07/pinata.html' title='Pinata'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-2459513093264806241</id><published>2009-06-23T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T11:59:25.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Gets In The Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I thought I would be a fabulous blogger--but life gets in the way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to find the time to sit down and send my thoughts out to the universe via technology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well---I still don't know how to text either. Or twitter...Ask me if I care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Life gets in the way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Like, making superman capes for dad for Father's Day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or going to the library to check out summer reading material. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or taking the kids to the summer movies, which movies we have all seen a million times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or taking a nap--which might happen once a year, but always during the summer break.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Like eating otter pops while sitting in the wading pool which is too small for 5 kids and a mom, but we do it anyway because we are HOT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Like driving kids back and forth to friends' houses all day, every day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or rocking my baby to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or making lunch--peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the millionth time, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;because that is the standard!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or singing camp songs with a daughter who just came home from girls' camp, all dirty and stinky, but very happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or waiting up until midnight for a son to come home from a stake dance, and laughing at the picture he brought home to show me of "the GROUP".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or singing "Wheels on the Bus" with the toddler, just to hear him giggle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or watching a movie at 7:00 am before any of the kids wake up, just because it is summer, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and just because I can. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or putting the kids to work cleaning the house so I can feel like a good mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or getting my visiting teaching done before the end of the month.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Like offering to read Dante's "Inferno" with Teen 1, because he has to read it &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;over the summer for an English class.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or getting together with my sisters/in-laws for Friday Fun Day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or taking the baby to get his shots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or running errands all by myself, because I have babysitters during the summertime.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or going out on a Friday night with my sweetheart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Who has time to blog with all of this life going on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-2459513093264806241?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2459513093264806241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/06/life-gets-in-way.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/2459513093264806241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/2459513093264806241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/06/life-gets-in-way.html' title='Life Gets In The Way'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-6273933337092669967</id><published>2009-06-06T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T17:25:48.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mother's Response</title><content type='html'>Clean the toilet, and mop the floor,&lt;br /&gt;Wash the windows...wait, there's more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do the dishes, make your bed,&lt;br /&gt;Dust the blinds, did you hear what I said?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacuum the carpet, comb your hair,&lt;br /&gt;Wash the walls--who, me? Unfair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mow the lawn, work all day.&lt;br /&gt;There's more to do, no time to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you're at it, wash the Ford!&lt;br /&gt;Where are you going?  You said you were bored...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-6273933337092669967?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/6273933337092669967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/06/mothers-response.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/6273933337092669967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/6273933337092669967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/06/mothers-response.html' title='A Mother&apos;s Response'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-2242012036719752365</id><published>2009-05-27T17:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T17:19:56.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode To Summer</title><content type='html'>I'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(repeated by children at least 20 times per day for the next 75 days)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-2242012036719752365?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/2242012036719752365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/ode-to-summer.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/2242012036719752365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/2242012036719752365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/ode-to-summer.html' title='Ode To Summer'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-784763920078394320</id><published>2009-05-21T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T12:35:47.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Half Bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Warning: This is just a regular post, and not any fancy story. Hope this doesn't disappoint!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;So last night's concert went pretty well, considering there was  the one and only DISASTROUS 2 hour rehearsal the day before the concert.  I did pretty well, and was able to keep focus during the concert.  And my hands didn't even shake!    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I was pretty stessed about the whole event, and I spent about 7 hours all told on the piano yesterday, trying to make sure I had everything perfected.  I felt ready, yet extremely nervous.  Especially since the rehearsal didn't leave me feeling confident at all that this concert would turn out well.  We had 1 hour per choir class (so the choirs didn't even practice together) to practice 12 songs.  You can imagine how that went.  We practiced half of some songs, and others we practiced a couple of times, but we did not get to go through every single song.  And each choir practiced different songs.  Which I guess was okay for them, since they have been practicing the songs all year--but NOT okay for me, since I only had 3 weeks.  And I had never practiced with the choir before.  And here were a couple of songs that I practiced, but she announced the day before the concert that we wouldn't be doing them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got to the school at 6:00  pm, and I thought we would go through all of the songs, but we didn't.  We only went through a couple--the ones that needed the most work.  Which was fine.  But then she decided to play "Hawaiian Rollercoaster" for the performance--I think because her version and my version were slightly different.  I had been playing the straight rhythm that was written in the music, but she wasn't playing that, and so I think she was afraid that I was going to throw the whole song off..  Not my fault that she wasn't playing it like it was written.  That's the problem with not having an accompanist until the last minute--it makes it difficult because there is no familiarity between the director, choir, and pianist.  So it is almost impossible to mold a piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all in all, the performance went well.  I made a few mistakes, and there were some timing issues, but I don't think they were very noticeable to the audience.  I think the mistakes were pretty minor.  So I am happy with the job I did.  And all of the prayers I said--I know that the Lord really blessed my performance.  there is no way I could have done it without His help!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only glitch in the evening was at the end of the concert, she didn't acknowledge me--and so I didn't get to bask in the applause of the audience.  Oh well.  It's a thankless job.  But of course my mom went to bat for me and went up to her afterward and told her that she should have acknowledged the accompanist at the end of the concert.  She said she had just forgotten to do that.  Whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-784763920078394320?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/784763920078394320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-half-bad.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/784763920078394320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/784763920078394320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-half-bad.html' title='Not Half Bad'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-3780085845947354663</id><published>2009-05-18T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T13:55:54.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Kidding? or: The Pathetic State Of The Middle School Choir</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.glitter-graphics.com/"&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://dl8.glitter-graphics.net/pub/1417/1417938kdn8s5g3fz.gif" width="150" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Once upon another time, Buttercup was frustrated. Teen One and Teen Two had been sent to a Royal Academy of Learning, but it was quite beneath their remarkable abilities, yet there was no choice but to endure until the end of the school year. Buttercup encouraged Teen One and Teen Two to become involved in extra-curricular activities, as a way to pass the time until the beginning of summer break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heeding the wise advice of Buttercup, Teen Two decided to enter the annual talent contest, and wanted to showcase her musical abilities by singing a popular ballad of the day. She asked Buttercup (who also had great musical ability) to accompany her on the pianoforte. Regretfully, Teen Two did not win the contest, but Buttercup was able to use the experience as a networking tool, and thus became the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accompanist&lt;/span&gt; for the Royal Academy's Choir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Buttercup was an extremely organized and capable lady, and she found it difficult when others around her were not as well put together as she would like them to be. One such person was Madame &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;le&lt;/span&gt; Choir Director. Although Buttercup was a tolerant and compassionate person, she became quite disenchanted with the entire idea of accompanying anyone ever again, due to the ineptitude of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MCD&lt;/span&gt; (or Madame &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;le&lt;/span&gt; Choir Director).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what Buttercup had to say, " I am so angry right now, I could spit! Well, since I am a lady, I would never spit, but if I wasn't, then I would. I have 12 songs to learn by May 20&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, and I have had about 3 weeks in which to learn all of them. Some of them are rather difficult, and 3 weeks is just not enough time to learn all of the pieces that I have been asked to play. I am quite happy to lend my services, but I feel like I haven't been given enough time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She continued, "I was supposed to go into the school on Friday(May 15&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;)to rehearse with the choir for the first time--keep in mind that this is 5 days before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; actual performance. I got Teen Two out of school early so she could keep an eye on the two little people and then I also had to pick up Mary Poppins from school at 1:30, because I was unable to arrange for someone to pick her up at her regular release time of 2:30. So I spent 45 minutes picking up and dropping off people. I got to the school at 1:45, just a few minutes late, and went straight to the choir room. There was nobody there. I went to the office, and the staff there informed me that there was a school assembly, and that I would probably find &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;MCD&lt;/span&gt; there. I went to the gym, and there she was. She asked if we could reschedule the rehearsal, and I told her about the lengths I had gone to to be able to be there that day, and maybe we could reschedule for after school, when it would be more convenient for me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She said that it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; be possible to practice after school because there wold not be any late &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;buses&lt;/span&gt; next week, so she could not require that the members of the choir attend a late practice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?! Don't these people have parents? Can't they pick them up?! What about how difficult it has been for me to arrange my schedule, not to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;mention&lt;/span&gt; that I have not had enough time to perfect the 12 songs! "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buttercup said, "Anyway, I now have to go in again tomorrow to practice (one day before the concert)--my sister is going to watch Harold and He-Who-Is-Not-Yet-Named. But I still have to pick up Mary Poppins early and take her to the rehearsal with me, because nobody seems to want to cart Mary Poppins around in their car all afternoon. Can't understand why not..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So being the gracious woman that she is, Buttercup will rehearse with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;RAC&lt;/span&gt;, and pretend to be happy while doing it. Maybe she will wear a disguise to the concert, so no one will recognize her, just in case the event turns out to be a disaster.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-3780085845947354663?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/3780085845947354663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/are-you-kidding-or-pathetic-state-of.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/3780085845947354663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/3780085845947354663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/are-you-kidding-or-pathetic-state-of.html' title='Are You Kidding? or: The Pathetic State Of The Middle School Choir'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-8501000567438378335</id><published>2009-05-13T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T13:30:18.566-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>As You Wish</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once upon a time, in a Kingdom far, far away, lived an extremely spoiled maiden named Buttercup. She lived in a comfortable home with her 5 small servants, and the live-in farmhand, whom she preferred to call Farm Boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day Buttercup decided she was tired of city life, and so she called on Farm Boy to find her a suitable country estate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As you wish," said Farm Boy, and he spent months scouring the countryside for acreage that would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accommodating&lt;/span&gt; to the lady's exquisite tastes, and he finally settled on 3.5 acres in the heart of a parish aptly named Queen Creek. It was the perfect place for such a lady, so she ordered Farm Boy to pack her belongings, and she moved with her servants to a small, but comfortable villa--until the country estate could be properly prepared for her arrival. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335408093263250658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgstZIKzROI/AAAAAAAAAjE/jBSSbFxwFGE/s320/DSC01456.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While waiting for the estate to be prepared, Buttercup became bored, and decided that she would like to have some animals to amuse her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Farm Boy!" Buttercup called. "I would like a cow, or two. Get me some."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As you wish," replied Farm Buy, and he promptly visited a local merchant of beef, Sir &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ethington&lt;/span&gt; to bargain for a cow. In all, he brought back 5 cows--one for each of Buttercup's servants to care for. Buttercup was pleased. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335405754785854434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgsrRAqV8-I/AAAAAAAAAi0/J71hmqHfqVY/s320/DSC01137.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335405761172786962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgsrRYdGzxI/AAAAAAAAAi8/y7kW6sqf7Jo/s320/DSC01140.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the months wore on, Buttercup discovered the need for a new amusement. Her servants were quite inept at keeping her entertained, and so she called for Farm Boy to find her another type of entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As you wish," he said, and set off on yet another search.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord and Lady Reinhold, of Pecan Creek Estates, knew of Farm Boy's efforts, and sent a message to him informing him of a new batch of chicks that might interest Buttercup. They were willing to give 2 dozen chicks to the Lady Buttercup as a gift, in honor of her great beauty and charm. Farm Boy was pleased. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335405747557685330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgsrQlvA2FI/AAAAAAAAAik/5-KEGbn6w3I/s320/DSC01443.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335405754026352818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgsrQ91Q4LI/AAAAAAAAAis/bg1SYYcM8po/s320/DSC01453.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He brought the chicks to Buttercup, who thanked him for the present and promptly went off to bed, while the servants played with the chicks and neglected their duties. And so far, everyone is living &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;happily&lt;/span&gt; ever after---until Buttercup decides she wants a pig and/or a spider. &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/3738052498404539901-8501000567438378335?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/8501000567438378335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/as-you-wish.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/8501000567438378335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/8501000567438378335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/as-you-wish.html' title='As You Wish'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgstZIKzROI/AAAAAAAAAjE/jBSSbFxwFGE/s72-c/DSC01456.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-4082799317230264527</id><published>2009-05-08T13:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T13:57:08.399-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Introductions'/><title type='text'>In Which We Introduce The Characters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now that I have this fabulous blog, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I must introduce you to my family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is ME (aka Buttercup) and STEVE (aka Farm Boy). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Of couse it was taken 17 years ago, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but I prefer to see myself as still 20 and still skinny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333559327583314450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSb8zUTIhI/AAAAAAAAAhU/RtEpA_c4gv4/s400/7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is our mucho macho 15-year-old, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;MICHAEL (aka Teen One). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dontcha love the pants? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There is a story there for another post... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333566826954611298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSixUpv2mI/AAAAAAAAAiU/dd7k2Ok27Bw/s400/DSC01229.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is HAILEY (aka Teen Two). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;She is a very artistic and talented 13-year-old. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And has an artist's temperament, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333562597763630482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSe7JsCxZI/AAAAAAAAAh8/51Rq6WVrnJU/s400/DSC00840.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here is 6-year-old AUDREY (aka Mary Poppins). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;She is such a hoot--she always has &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;something wonderful up her sleeve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333562602371457778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSe7a2oovI/AAAAAAAAAiE/v4uaHI2kkio/s400/DSC00566.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;DYLAN ( aka Harold) is 2 and has a real knack for coloring on anything and everything in sight. Can you guess why I choose to call him Harold? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333566838214598978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSix-mVoUI/AAAAAAAAAic/3ix2KegKxlM/s400/DSC01112.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And 7 month old JACOB (aka --haven't come up with a literary nickname for him yet--any suggestions?--I thought about Sunny, but she was a girl).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333560924610373362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 330px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSdZwtOJvI/AAAAAAAAAhk/wHfr5Xbxzl0/s400/jake.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There--now you have been properly introduced.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;It is nice to meet you!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-4082799317230264527?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/4082799317230264527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-which-we-introduce-ourselves.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/4082799317230264527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/4082799317230264527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-which-we-introduce-ourselves.html' title='In Which We Introduce The Characters'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_V0FfeCQVn3U/SgSb8zUTIhI/AAAAAAAAAhU/RtEpA_c4gv4/s72-c/7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3738052498404539901.post-73266785241977979</id><published>2009-05-06T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T11:58:17.188-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Welcome'/><title type='text'>I Finally Did IT...</title><content type='html'>Here I am.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vowed I would never be a BLOGGER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, here I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is because I have always been a joiner.  Maybe it is because I have so much time on my hands, I needed just one thing to keep me busy.  Maybe it is because I am slowly losing my mind and needed a place to release my crazy thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is because I have toddlers and teens and everything in between, and I needed a place to call my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this is MY SPACE.  Since I can't even go to the bathroom without being followed, I needed to find a place where my children could not come, unless invited.  Well, this is IT!!!  Yay me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to my world...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3738052498404539901-73266785241977979?l=buellbunch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/feeds/73266785241977979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-finally-did-it.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/73266785241977979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3738052498404539901/posts/default/73266785241977979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://buellbunch.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-finally-did-it.html' title='I Finally Did IT...'/><author><name>Randibee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07781575479421597124</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>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
