<?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-6813807552915901366</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:07:20.501-06:00</updated><category term='lasagna recipe'/><title type='text'>Adventures of Snowflake Girl</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome to the musings of a girl transplanted from the East Coast, to a resort ski town high in the Rocky Mountains. I've traded in my minivan and shopping malls for fresh air, fresh powder and a fresh perspective on life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-5310965912910187913</id><published>2008-02-20T21:46:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T21:56:40.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing in Action</title><content type='html'>I have been terribly sick. L had the flu, M has a nasty virus and pink eye. And I wonder why we can't coordinate our illnesses.  I have been out of work off and on for three weeks now.  When at the doctor's office today I asked if this is a problem every year here, being new to the area and all. I honestly don't remember having wave after wave of illness like this in MA.  I was informed that the rest of CO has had the flu for months now, and it is in fact, late in coming to our town. The disturbing news was that the doctor expects to see these germs around for another month!  If we're sick for another month, I will do myself in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm finally feeling better and will get my act together and upload my Mardi Gras photos. Thankfully I didn't get sick until after that event!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-5310965912910187913?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5310965912910187913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=5310965912910187913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5310965912910187913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5310965912910187913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/02/missing-in-action.html' title='Missing in Action'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-3881244760958583100</id><published>2008-01-31T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T22:30:46.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alternative Training</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R6KuLZ-pp7I/AAAAAAAAABo/yZT1Fmzz-Fk/s1600-h/images%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161879633895466930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R6KuLZ-pp7I/AAAAAAAAABo/yZT1Fmzz-Fk/s320/images%5B4%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Just another day at work. While helping a co-worker find a training video in the training room (obviously named), we came upon a black DVD case. Inside there were 3 discs, one hand labeled "69", the other "Buttfuck Bitches" and another, "3Pete". I was going to throw them out (don't recall them receiving any Oscars). I even placed them in my trash can...but I kept thinking what a waste of porn! Someone paid good money for those...Is the hand labeled one a home video? I didn't feel like I could just pop it in my work computer to find out. I couldn't bring myself to place trash upon them, just in case... By the end of the day, I was feeling so bad about trashing them, that I laid this impassioned plea upon a male co-worker to take the porn. After initially declining, he finally capitulated. My conscience can rest now. No porn has gone to waste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-3881244760958583100?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3881244760958583100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=3881244760958583100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3881244760958583100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3881244760958583100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/alternative-training.html' title='Alternative Training'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R6KuLZ-pp7I/AAAAAAAAABo/yZT1Fmzz-Fk/s72-c/images%5B4%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-5465405418162398237</id><published>2008-01-29T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T21:47:28.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Car bombs, Margaritas and the "Man P"</title><content type='html'>Bus driver: What's in the glass son?&lt;br /&gt;Drunk guy: Robitussin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That would be when the bus driver threw the contents of the glass out the bus door and returned it to the drunk guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was last Friday night, when the coworkers and I went out for drinks.  Montgomery Gentry was playing a concert, and it was the week of the Cowboy Downhill. &lt;a href="http://www.exploresteamboat.com/news/2008/jan/23/tabernash_bull_rider_wins_annual_cowboy_downhill/"&gt;http://www.exploresteamboat.com/news/2008/jan/23/tabernash_bull_rider_wins_annual_cowboy_downhill/&lt;/a&gt;I missed the cowboys (my office doesn't have a window to the outside world, and I frankly forgot it was going on).  Anyway we had a good time getting drunk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My young coworker, having come from work, carried his "man p" with him. This was the first time I had heard this phrase. Gone is the messenger bag of old. KR is a Birkenstock wearing, man p carrying, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;metrosexual type&lt;/span&gt;. Nicest guy you'll ever meet. He followed me out of the bar and made sure I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; waiting for the bus on my own (can you get a merit badge for helping drunk elders?). And as I found out later, as he walked back to the hotel, he came across a crying girl, and escorted her home.  There are truly not enough of those kind of guys around!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-5465405418162398237?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5465405418162398237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=5465405418162398237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5465405418162398237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5465405418162398237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/car-bombs-margaritas-and-man-p.html' title='Car bombs, Margaritas and the &quot;Man P&quot;'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-6667022147866816782</id><published>2008-01-18T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T20:35:28.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R5FukyDEWtI/AAAAAAAAABY/3rsYl4NACtY/s1600-h/images%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157024626504915666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R5FukyDEWtI/AAAAAAAAABY/3rsYl4NACtY/s200/images%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sure it's something we say to our children, before we strap them into bed and hope they stay there all night. But imagine my surprise to find out they're real. Our student workers who are living in rather cramped apartments showed up to work with rows of red welts on their arms. One girl had a rather serious allergic reaction. My co-worker had mentioned bedbugs with a laugh and I thought she was joking until the next day everyone was packing their things in plastic bags and sending them to the cleaners. We moved everyone to the hotel while the apartments were treated for the bed bug infestation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I looked the little bugs up, since now I'm concerned that they might hitchhike to my home. They look like ticks and live in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;crevices&lt;/span&gt; around the bed and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mattress&lt;/span&gt;. They hide in the light, like a cockroach. Yuck. Come to think of it, I know a few guy like that...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hmmm&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/6813807552915901366-6667022147866816782?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6667022147866816782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=6667022147866816782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/6667022147866816782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/6667022147866816782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/sleep-tight-dont-let-bedbugs-bite.html' title='Sleep tight, don&apos;t let the bedbugs bite.'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R5FukyDEWtI/AAAAAAAAABY/3rsYl4NACtY/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-9079635775050255013</id><published>2008-01-12T14:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T15:18:13.915-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lasagna recipe'/><title type='text'>Powderific!</title><content type='html'>The family is skiing today (all but me). It's the last day of ski school and there is two feet of fresh powder on the mountain.  I heard there is a bumps competition, but it was too far up the mountain to see from the base.  I'm sure I'll hear about it later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun has decided to come out after several days of snow.  But I think it's a brief viewing since the weather &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;forecast&lt;/span&gt; has snow flakes across all of next week.  The new camera phone has arrived and I've been sending &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;picts&lt;/span&gt; to Mom. She said she's never seen so much snow, except a few storms a million years ago in PA.  But this is different than East Coast snow. Champagne Powder is what it's called here. And in the paper I saw it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;referred&lt;/span&gt; to as simply "'&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;der&lt;/span&gt;", as if the "pow" is uncool.  Like the bumps I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;referred&lt;/span&gt; to above. In the old days we called them moguls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next session of kids lessons is full. Except for the really expensive ones, they quoted $117 a day.  The locals classes are half of that.  M. has gotten good enough to ski with her dad, but L. has just started the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pommel&lt;/span&gt; lift.  M's friends go to the smaller local ski hill, so that might work out as well.  The other hill also has night skiing which might be fun for everyone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my activities included getting my hair cut, lunch at Wendy's, and some shopping.  I have no other agenda today except for making a &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Ki&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ller&lt;/span&gt; Lasagna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; for dinner. Recipe follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;cook 8 oz lasagna noodles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;to make tomato sauce: in blender place 2 cans diced tomatoes (drained),1/2 cup tomato paste,2 scallions, 1 tbsp soy sauce,2 cloves garlic,2 tsp basil,1 tsp oregano,1/2 tsp marjoram&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;to make cheese layer: 3 cups &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;low-fat&lt;/span&gt; cottage cheese,2 eggs (beaten),1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;To layer: in bottom of 9 x 13" baking dish, coat with nonstick spray, then 1/2 cup tomato sauce in bottom. Place a third oft he noodles across the bottom overlapping as necessary. Spread half the cheese mixture over the noodles. Top with another third of the noodles. Then layer the remaining cheese and noodles and pour the rest of the sauce over the noodles.  Arrange 4 oz thinly sliced mozzarella on top.  Bake at 375 for 35 to 40 min. Let stand about 10 min before serving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Sometimes I add cooked ground beef to the sauce, and sometimes I add a layer of spinach in the middle.  Really good stuff!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-9079635775050255013?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/9079635775050255013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=9079635775050255013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/9079635775050255013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/9079635775050255013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/powderific.html' title='Powderific!'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-7690127017000167772</id><published>2008-01-03T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T20:47:17.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shorts Optional</title><content type='html'>Excitement at the hotel today. Security responded when a report of a bottomless person was spotted in the coffee shop. As it turned out it was teenage girl in a bikini with jacket and boots. She was apparently intending to go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;skiing&lt;/span&gt; and get a tan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it was 3 degrees F. out today and as one coworker put it, if she were to get on a chair lift she would have stuck (in a bad way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today they also &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;snowblowed&lt;/span&gt; the pool deck. Up until now you had to follow the narrow shoveled path to the pool. Not any more! I actually haven't seen any people in the outdoor heated pool to date. But it looks really cool at night when it's all lit up and steaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new camera phone is supposed to arrive next week. I already have a mental list of all the things I'd like photos of. The beauty of it, is that I can pretend to talk on the phone, all the while snapping photos of hunky pro skiers/snowboarders who've lost their sponsors. "I'm sorry, I have to take this call." CLICK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-7690127017000167772?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7690127017000167772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=7690127017000167772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/7690127017000167772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/7690127017000167772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/shorts-optional.html' title='Shorts Optional'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-3003518617425921588</id><published>2008-01-02T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T22:19:47.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowflake Safari</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xrhyDEWoI/AAAAAAAAAAw/sj0DLr7NROs/s1600-h/newyears+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151110301919500930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px" height="289" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xrhyDEWoI/AAAAAAAAAAw/sj0DLr7NROs/s320/newyears+016.jpg" width="223" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;New Years Day we drove up onto Buffalo Pass, as far as the truck would go. They close it down at the campground for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;skiers&lt;/span&gt; and snowmobiles. There were many trucks with trailers parked up there. It was very cold, around zero, but the sky was clear for the first time in several days, and instead of going home, we went back around through the Elk River valley to Clark and up toward &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Slovonia&lt;/span&gt;, where we hiked in the fall. Once again the road was closed for winter use, but we went pretty far up and the snow was just beautiful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xr6SDEWpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/z0-dpgSdv1I/s1600-h/newyears+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151110722826295954" style="WIDTH: 407px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px" height="181" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xr6SDEWpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/z0-dpgSdv1I/s320/newyears+013.jpg" width="279" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xvkCDEWsI/AAAAAAAAABQ/OY5sznfjzco/s1600-h/newyears+022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151114738620717762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="238" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xvkCDEWsI/AAAAAAAAABQ/OY5sznfjzco/s320/newyears+022.jpg" width="293" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Trees with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cottonball&lt;/span&gt;-like snow.&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;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our one wildlife sighting, except for cows and horses, was a fat porcupine waddling across the top of a fence buried in snow. There was a car behind us so we couldn't slam on the brakes, so I missed that photo op.&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/6813807552915901366-3003518617425921588?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3003518617425921588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=3003518617425921588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3003518617425921588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3003518617425921588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/snowflake-safari.html' title='Snowflake Safari'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xrhyDEWoI/AAAAAAAAAAw/sj0DLr7NROs/s72-c/newyears+016.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-1642303103950268895</id><published>2007-12-31T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T22:53:58.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Midnight at the Oasis</title><content type='html'>Well, it's not midnight yet. I'm thinking I won't make it.  It was a long day at work. After a rushed dinner we headed out to see the fireworks on the ski hill, but we were so late we ended up seeing them from the truck instead. We walked around the shops and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;restaurants&lt;/span&gt; with the kids and then went to the bar for a drink.  It was 8pm at that point and I didn't think we should be in there past  9 with the kids. They had a special thing going where a special shot was taken on the hour. When we arrived it was gin and butter? Sounded nasty, so I didn't partake. I had already had a hurricane when the Black Seal rum was set up for the 9 o'clock hour.  There was a cheer and down it went.  At that time I thought it best to take the kids home.  All the drunk people were sad to see the girls go.  They are awfully cute sitting at the bar.  I hope they don't spread these stories around school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was that movie, can't remember the name of it now, with the line,"you've got a baby, in a bar."  When your brother owns a bar, what is a snowflake girl to do?  Naturally we spend quite a bit of time there, probably more than we should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So New Year's resolutions... There were women at work saying that they were taking their last bites of chocolate before the new year.  That seemed rather extreme to me. I love chocolate and couldn't give it up.  Can't give up booze, because my brother owns a bar.  I have no work ambitions, except not to get fired.  I have my book that I'd like to see published.  There are some cute guys that I'd like to hang out with.  But there again, I want to be bad, but not too bad. I am married after all, much to my own dismay.  I feel that even in this exciting place, I am on the sidelines watching. Since this is a constantly repeating theme of mine,I can only surmise that I have chosen to live like this. Very safe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight instead of going out on my own, which my husband actually suggested, I am sitting in my turret window looking down at the street watching the people walk to the bars for a midnight toast. The ball has long since dropped in NYC, and I guess being a former east coast girl, I feel the New Year has already &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;officially&lt;/span&gt; begun. Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-1642303103950268895?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1642303103950268895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=1642303103950268895' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/1642303103950268895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/1642303103950268895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/midnight-at-oasis.html' title='Midnight at the Oasis'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-3024955237536354603</id><published>2007-12-29T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T21:21:58.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowflake Girl im Winter</title><content type='html'>Winter in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;New England&lt;/span&gt; used to be like a big sleep. When it snowed the world stopped, school was cancelled, you stayed in warm and dry, baked cookies, read a book, played board games. Here it snows almost every day. Every morning there is the task of removing another layer of snow. I don't need an alarm because the back up beeps of the snow plow never fail to wake me. The kids (and myself) walk to school no matter the snow or temperature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snow is the constant here. Things ramp up. The bus becomes full of snowboarders and skiers in the morning. There is excitement and a magical feel to the town. It fills with tourists walking about, looking at store windows. Overheard conversations entertain me. Late at night, from my upstairs window I hear the laughter of people returning from the bars, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;strangely&lt;/span&gt; magnified in the quiet of the night and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;the gently&lt;/span&gt; falling snow. How I wish to be among them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the day with the kids and tonight I'm restless. I tried working on my book, but the words aren't coming. Instead I'm writing this and watching the snow fall in the glow of the Christmas lights along the porch roof. Long icicles have formed along all the eaves and they sparkle in the night. I wish I could capture them in pictures, but they look flat instead of translucent and glowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cat is restless and prowling as well. She sat for a bit on the back of the sofa where I sit, just watching the snow. Now she is staring into the fireplace. I wonder what she thinks she sees? A few embers still glow and it's still warm by the vent. She is a huntress at heart, and is no doubt, completely disgusted with this mouse free habitat. Now she has curled up on a chair, waiting for me to make a move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking of my next move as well. Being a few days to the new year, it seems appropriate. I've done &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;a lot&lt;/span&gt; of waiting for things to unfold this past year. I wrote the first draft of my book. It's sat a while and it's time to finish the second draft and let someone else read it. That's a frightening thought. As &lt;a href="http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Pooh%27s_Grand_Adventure:_The_Search_for_Christopher_Robin"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Christopher&lt;/span&gt; Robin &lt;/a&gt;told Pooh, "You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think." Words to live by.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-3024955237536354603?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3024955237536354603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=3024955237536354603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3024955237536354603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3024955237536354603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/snowflake-girl-im-winter.html' title='Snowflake Girl im Winter'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-6221150861210162683</id><published>2007-12-28T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T22:40:31.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the news</title><content type='html'>Mountain time sucks for watching the news. By the time I'm home from work, network news is over. Sometimes my only news is the headlines from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MSN&lt;/span&gt; when I'm accessing my companies web site at work. I don't usually pause to read, but today I did. I think I'm a full day or two behind everyone else on Bhutto's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;assassination&lt;/span&gt;. Horrible thing to happen. Then I don't understand the people who are so enraged they torch a train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But maybe it is us in the US who are too complacent. Sheep who are blindly led. I have never voted for Bush. I don't like him and I don't like his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;decisions&lt;/span&gt;. Yet I haven't been part of a train torching. It never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;occurred&lt;/span&gt; to me at all. Sometimes I get mad and write something. Not quite the same impact as a train burning. Then the Pakistanis burned their banks. Who was that going to hurt? Well maybe there is some justice there, but you know it will ultimately fall upon the population.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me think about what it would take to make me want to blow myself up (don't understand the suicide bomber thing either), or torch something, or even march upon the Mall. I'm not sure. Maybe it's something that sneaks up on you, you just don't know until it happens. Like those illegal immigrants, who thought we'd give a shit if we saw them marching in solidarity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I feel safe in our country. Safe in my house and town. I feel confident that justice will be served, eventually if not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; (despite lawyer scum). And most importantly hope that the future will be better. I wish it could be so for everyone. Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-6221150861210162683?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6221150861210162683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=6221150861210162683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/6221150861210162683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/6221150861210162683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-news.html' title='In the news'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-5010022301269874120</id><published>2007-12-27T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T22:24:54.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tourists Everywhere</title><content type='html'>It was my birthday today.  Dinner was to be at a yummy Italian eatery, but there was a 45 min. wait by the time I was able to get off work. So we went to another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; down the street that coincidentally had the same waiting time. It actually took an hour before we were seated. To their credit the girls were very patient waiting at the bar. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;...sitting at a bar has become a bit too common for them.  I decided to not drink tonight, since I've been hungover since well before Christmas.  That and I just didn't want to feel older and hungover as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were many families, parties of 8, which held up my gastronomical pleasure.  The meal was good, but I was so tired and rather irritated with B. for not making reservations at the other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow we will do our regular dinner and drinks at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Sunpies&lt;/span&gt; Bistro. Luckily it's off the beaten path and the usual local crowd will be there I'm sure. And much fewer tourists! Though my job, and many others depend on those same tourists, I would like them to stick to the restaurants on the mountain.  Aren't they much hipper?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend and through New Year's the hotel &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;occupancy&lt;/span&gt; is at 90 percent, it should be a wild time. There's already been an incident in the hot tub, which caused it to be closed and drained.  Then there was a couple evicted from the hotel restroom. First I heard it was two women, then it was ammended to be a man and a woman completely unclothed caught in the act of fornication. The first version was probably the security guards wishful thinking.  And I was wondering how a pubic hair got on the butter ball at the company Christmas party. What a sheltered life I've led!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-5010022301269874120?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5010022301269874120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=5010022301269874120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5010022301269874120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5010022301269874120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/tourists-everywhere.html' title='Tourists Everywhere'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-2909242256114231868</id><published>2007-12-26T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T21:37:29.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>snow,snow,everywhere</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xmYSDEWnI/AAAAAAAAAAo/1jOC-irC9s8/s1600-h/sunpies+party+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xl4CDEWmI/AAAAAAAAAAg/HFCqauF-_Ws/s1600-h/sunpies+party+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151104087101823586" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xl4CDEWmI/AAAAAAAAAAg/HFCqauF-_Ws/s320/sunpies+party+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xjeCDEWlI/AAAAAAAAAAY/DuqHLxSf2E0/s1600-h/sunpies+party+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a wonderful white Christmas! It snowed at least 8 inches overnight, and all day too. Tomorrow B. will take the girls skiing. I have yet to take to the winter sports thing. My big excitement comes from riding the bus on a snow day. It is standing room only of every kind of person with skis and snowboards. I have been here since Aug. but I feel like a long time resident. At the bus stop I get asked about the best steak house in town, where do you get off the bus for the grocery store, where's the ticket office, where's the post office. There are 2 by the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa arrived with flare on a sled of cross country &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;skis&lt;/span&gt;. L. asked for an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt;, and Santa assured her there were many in his sack. And as it turned out Santa had one for each of us. I've been loading in music all day! Now I can sit on the bus like everyone else, attached to my device, in my own little world. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; I like to sing to my music. Oh well, they'll get a concert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night ended a five night party spree. This morning I was hungover from our dinner party, featuring beef fondue and lots of wine. After present opening I had to take a nap. By afternoon I was feeling recovered and looking forward to my birthday party which is on Thurs. night. I will probably feel like shit the next day, that and I'll be a year older. Mom says this year is a problem for her, since she and I will be the same age. I'm thinking Mom needs to adjust up a bit.&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/6813807552915901366-2909242256114231868?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2909242256114231868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=2909242256114231868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/2909242256114231868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/2909242256114231868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/snowsnoweverywhere.html' title='snow,snow,everywhere'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R3xl4CDEWmI/AAAAAAAAAAg/HFCqauF-_Ws/s72-c/sunpies+party+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-397739245687158100</id><published>2007-12-19T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T00:06:22.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maps</title><content type='html'>I wonder about the statistical probability of meeting any person on the planet.  I decided to move, others decide to move, coincidentally to the same place.  This is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; a small world type of town.  I've met people who lived one town away from us in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Massachusetts&lt;/span&gt;. One family just moved from the town my Aunt lives in.  A co-worker spent some time in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bozeman&lt;/span&gt;, MT, probably around the time I used to live there. Why didn't our paths cross then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new friend from work gave his resignation today and said he was going to return to Iraq as a contractor, to make his fortune.  I was bummed hearing the news.  But didn't I just take off myself? Granted I didn't cross any oceans, but I left a group of friends behind.  I was excited to be leaving and starting a new adventure. My daughter's teacher cried at the news, and I thought that was silly since I was excited to be going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I think about it tonight, I should be grateful to have met this new friend, in this strange place, and be happy that I had the opportunity. Because what really are the chances of any of us meeting?  I imagine our paths create a strange sort of map, merging and parting, creating an ever tightening weave upon this small world. I'll miss him, but wish him the best as he continues on his path lined with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;friends&lt;/span&gt; he has yet to meet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-397739245687158100?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/397739245687158100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=397739245687158100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/397739245687158100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/397739245687158100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/maps.html' title='Maps'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-3481196970903716312</id><published>2007-12-04T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T21:58:11.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Land of Plenty</title><content type='html'>Hotel life can be fun. Today two girls from Brazil arrived just as I was getting ready to leave work. They asked how to get to the grocery store.  They had no car, knew nobody, had been traveling for twenty or so hours.  So since I was heading that way anyway, I took them on the bus to the grocery store.  They had never seen such a sight! I had to explain about the salad bar and yogurt, bread and cookies. They got side tracked by a blow dryer for $15. I told them it was better to buy that at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart, it would be less expensive. This they couldn't believe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked over to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart and there was a $10 winter coat.  When we asked at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart if they had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-paid phone cards, the woman who helped us was from Costa Rica and she directed us down the street to a cigarette shop where the girls were able to get 1000 min for $10.  There was a pay phone outside the grocery store and they were able to call their mothers.  I felt very excited for them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed back to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart to buy batteries, and I had to inform them that they had to stand in a line with a "lit" number above it. Something that I'd never thought about, ever. Even my kids know that means the cashier is open.  At the grocery store I signed them up for a frequent shopper card. They asked why they were getting a discount with the card? Just because. I did skip the whole marketing concept thing, too hard to translate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a few hours I saw things in a differnt light. The United States of America may not have all the answers, but we do have lots of cheap stuff!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-3481196970903716312?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3481196970903716312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=3481196970903716312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3481196970903716312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/3481196970903716312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/land-of-plenty.html' title='Land of Plenty'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813807552915901366.post-5321427619115768274</id><published>2007-12-02T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T21:37:10.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the beginning...</title><content type='html'>There was a girl and a boy who met in college, got married, bought a house, had 2 children, a golden retriever, a cat, 2 birds, and a tank full of fish.  There was a minivan with automatic sliding doors. It seated seven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl volunteered at school and for community projects.  Kept the books for her husbands business.  And generally kept up appearances of prosperity, taking the kids to gymnastics, dance class, art class and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;playdates&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that all came to a crashing end as the business floundered and went bankrupt. The house that they renovated completely from the inside out, was going to be lost.  The sporty minivan was only to be theirs for a short while longer, before it was going to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;reposessed&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Christmas the dog developed cancer and died shortly thereafter.  Both of the birds died of illness, and it did indeed seem that these were signs pointing to something.  The chain of events seemed almost too tragic for even a country song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The housing market was floundering and the boy was unable to find work. There was an offer from a relative in Colorado to do some work, so the boy left his family to go West.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven months passed and the girl started to wonder if he would ever return. But the boy had fallen in love with the mountain lifestyle and fun of the ski town.  He had made new friends who didn't know of his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;embarrassing&lt;/span&gt; business failure or house &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;foreclosure&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing she and the kids would have to move anyway, the girl decided if the mountain wouldn't come to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mohammad&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Mohammad&lt;/span&gt; would go to the mountain.  So she prepared to move the remainder of the household 2000 miles, in hopes that she could reunite her family, repair her marriage and renew herself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She arrived with 2 kids, a cat and the largest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Uhaul&lt;/span&gt; available, crammed with all the things the IRS hadn't taken, to a house rented sight unseen.  It was purple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy is back in the fold, but can the damage done ever be repaired? Only time will tell...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6813807552915901366-5321427619115768274?l=adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5321427619115768274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6813807552915901366&amp;postID=5321427619115768274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5321427619115768274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6813807552915901366/posts/default/5321427619115768274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://adventuresofsnowflakegirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-beginning.html' title='In the beginning...'/><author><name>snowflake girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14553016420133582166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_gTd2aBJNh4Y/R1NdwtEO7kI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u71punZ47ao/S220/Ernst_Oppler_Ballet_Dancer.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
