<?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-1535228277234234617</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:55:53.609-06:00</updated><category term='Babies'/><category term='poem'/><category term='Gladys'/><category term='Relationships'/><category term='Family'/><category term='Parenting'/><category term='salad'/><category term='Myspace'/><category term='80s'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='Ellen DeGeneres'/><category term='Ellen Degeneres Show'/><category term='Greg pain God relationships Romance'/><category term='ramen'/><category term='puffy eyes'/><category term='Robert Smith'/><category term='Online Writing'/><category term='blessings'/><category term='tired eyes'/><category term='slaw'/><category term='teabags for eyes'/><category term='Poetry'/><category term='Mother'/><category term='Pictures of You'/><category term='Home'/><category term='Pain'/><category term='Video'/><category term='work'/><category term='Facebook'/><category term='financial stress'/><category term='roses'/><category term='Drink'/><category term='photo editing'/><category term='Richard Wilbur'/><category term='photography'/><category term='God'/><category term='Music'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Photofunia'/><category term='cucumber'/><category term='Ellen Show'/><category term='i love jesus but i drink a little'/><category term='soothing tired eyes'/><category term='The Cure'/><category term='Arts'/><category term='milk'/><category term='peace rose'/><category term='People'/><category term='Romance'/><category term='recipe'/><category term='Mommy'/><category term='image creator'/><category term='Greg'/><category term='Alternative Music'/><category term='flowers'/><category term='remedy'/><category term='home remedies'/><category term='health'/><category term='poverty'/><category term='photo art'/><title type='text'>Our House...</title><subtitle type='html'>You light the fire,
                 I'll place the flowers
                  in the vase that you
                    bought today...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2927970513867782530</id><published>2010-05-19T13:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T13:12:54.777-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Countdown...</title><content type='html'>Here I am, sitting in my last class of the day.  The kids' grades are in, except for the end-of-course scores, which won't be in until tomorrow.  The kids are watching a movie on the other computer via projector, and I'm slowly trying not to go crazy.  I have never, EVER wanted summer vacation to get here more in my life as I had this summer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a long, tiring year.  We've all been through a lot, my little family and myself.  Sickness, death...it's been a long struggle.  This has been a hard year for Greg school-wise, and I know he's ready to rest and recharge.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on my CPAP monitor for almost a month, so I'm finally beginning to sleep a bit through the night.  My health is getting better.  Now all I need is to lose some weight...yeah, something I've been saying all my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hopefully it will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is I can't wait to rest, relax, dig in my garden, eat fresh vegetables and can them, and just be at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the countdown to summer begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2927970513867782530?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2927970513867782530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2927970513867782530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2927970513867782530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2927970513867782530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2010/05/countdown.html' title='Countdown...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-6031103530405450599</id><published>2010-02-20T08:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T08:10:40.227-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been a long, long, time...</title><content type='html'>Wow.  I can't believe how long it has been since I've had an entry in this blog.  So many things have happened since July of last year...way too many to put down in one entry, so I guess I'll hit the highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The biggest, and worst news of all, is that our family lost our dear Nadine in October.  She succumbed to the brain tumors that were discovered by the doctors in June, and quickly deteriorated until God chose to take her home.  She was surrounded by family and friends in her last moments.  She will be missed forever--she was a beautiful, kind, loving lady.  I was lucky to have such a wonderful mother-in-law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg is plugging away at school--doing well, making good grades.  Hopefully in another year or so he will be teaching.  He's excited, and I can't wait to see him in "action" as a teacher.  He truly loves the special ed kids, and he'll be so good with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My "bonus" son is wonderful, as usual--getting more handsome all the time, about to turn 11 in March, and smart as a whip.  Makes awesome grades.  He's pretty darn near perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Biggest news with me is health-related, of course...seems like the past three years I've done nothing but fall apart physically.  I had major hospitalizations in 2007 &amp; 2008, managed to escape 2009 without one, but man, did I bust 2010 wide open!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 6th or so I had a stomach pain attack and went to the ER--not here, in Murfreesboro.  I won't go back here to the hospital unless it's a life or death situation.  Anyway, turns out it was a partial bowel obstruction, which corrected itself with a few days of no food/drink and a tube down my nose into my stomach (ugh).  The surgeon scheduled an appt. to talk about surgery in the summer so I wouldn't have to be out of work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 25th I had another attack, only worse. Much worse.  This time it was a total bowel obstruction, and the doctor had to operate, no putting it off.  So he went in and fixed two hernias and removed 1 1/2 feet of my intestine which was damaged from the hernia.  I've been on medical leave ever since (no pay, of course).  I go back to work Monday...I can't wait.  I know my kids can't wait, because they've told me so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's the update, in a nutshell.  Hopefully, I'll get better about keeping this thing up to date.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-6031103530405450599?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/6031103530405450599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=6031103530405450599' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6031103530405450599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6031103530405450599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2010/02/its-been-long-long-time.html' title='It&apos;s been a long, long, time...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-6395048935232074549</id><published>2009-07-08T16:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T16:22:40.189-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oatmeal That Tastes Like Peanut Butter Cookies...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font face='sans-serif'&gt;I love oatmeal.  In fact, it's just about the only cereal I will eat in the mornings, period.  I also love peanut butter (but not as much as my Greg does, trust me).  As I was making my morning oatmeal the other day, I was trying to figure out how to get some protein in my breakfast without adding more carbs, when it hit me--peanut butter has carbs.  Why not add it to the oatmeal?  Yeah!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The final product was yummy--as Greg and I have proclaimed it, "a peanut butter cookie in a bowl."  Here's the concoction for each serving:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;font face='sans-serif'&gt;1 serving hot, cooked old-fashioned oats (don't use instant--ugh!)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;font face='sans-serif'&gt;2 tbsp peanut butter (we used chunky)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;font face='sans-serif'&gt;sweetener of choice to equal 2 tsp of sugar (I used a mix of stevia and splenda, as they are natural sweeteners, but don't mess with a diabetic's blood sugar)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;font face='sans-serif'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Just add the peanut butter and sweetener to the hot oatmeal and stir well.   It has about 350 calories, 20 grams of fat (GOOD fat), and 35 carbs.  Sounds like a lot, but you get waaaay more than that in a fast food breakfast, right? right.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-6395048935232074549?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/6395048935232074549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=6395048935232074549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6395048935232074549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6395048935232074549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/07/oatmeal-that-tastes-like-peanut-butter.html' title='Oatmeal That Tastes Like Peanut Butter Cookies...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3707464910137432665</id><published>2009-07-07T09:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T09:26:25.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Morning...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font face='sans-serif'&gt;Another quiet summer morning here at home for me as I wait for Greg to come home from his mom and dad's.  Poor Nadine is steadily growing worse, both physically and mentally.  We are going to the neurologist in Murfreesboro this afternoon to get a report, and hopefully some news on a course of treatment.  Tomorrow we meet with the oncology group.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'll report when I know something.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3707464910137432665?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3707464910137432665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3707464910137432665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3707464910137432665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3707464910137432665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/07/tuesday-morning.html' title='Tuesday Morning...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2607677026989126711</id><published>2009-07-01T17:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T17:11:41.861-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates on a Wednesday...and a rant about doctors and diabetes!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;I'm home from the doctor in Murfreesboro; Mama and I both had an appointment about our eyesight.  Mama had great news--her eyesight had miniscule changes and she doesn't have to come back for a year--yay!  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My news wasn't great, but wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  There was a problem, but Dr. Cherney felt that since my diabetes was getting under control so quickly that the problem might correct itself without any laser surgery.  I was so thrilled!  The idea of somone taking a laser to my eyeballs was not exactly tickling me pink.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When I think of how long I probably went with my Type 1 diabetes undiagnosed, it angers me so much....I know it went on at least two years because when my gallbladder was taken out my blood sugar was over 600 then.  What did I hear from the surgeon and my then-primary doctor?  "You need to eat better and take better care of yourself, and your sugar will go down."  I WAS eating fine, thank you very much, but the fact is when almost anyone in health care sees a person who is heavy they (like most people in society) assume that heavy person eats constantly and eats the wrong foods.  WRONG.  I guarantee you there are people 1/3 my size that eat 3x more than I do all over this planet.  But do you think those doctors listened to me?  Nope.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Finally, along came Dr. Bryan Chastain, God Bless Him.  He was the man who saved my life, and believed me when no one else would listen.  I went to him because he was Greg's doctor, and he spent time talking to me, asking me questions, and checking out my health to see what was really going on with me.  When he couldn't get my blood sugar under control, he sent me to someone who COULD.  That was the Eskind Diabetes Clinic at Vanderbilt University in Nashville.  Within two months, my Hemoglobin A1C went from 10.8 (dangerously high) to 8.5 (1.5 point from high normal).  The clinic has helped me feel so much better about myself, and feel so much better pysically.  When I think of how long I have felt so tired, so sick, so depressed BECAUSE I was so tired and sick, I want to scream at those other doctors for robbing me of all that time of my life I missed out on.  I feel so sad for my last two years of students for not being "all of me" the last two years of my teaching.  Look out next year's 10th grade--woo hoo!  Now all I have to do is go get some new glasses, and I'll be all set!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Another update...our sweet Nadine is still in limbo.  No news, except that there are two scheduled dr. appointments next week regarding the tumor in her head.  Her mental state drifts in and out--she is lucid one day, a bit lost the next, hallucinating the next.  Her gait is more staggering day by day, and her legs are very weak, as are her arms.  She is having a very hard time sleeping at night, and sleeps fitfully off and on during the day.  We are all trying to be brave and positive, anxiously awaiting the doctor visits and dreading them at the same time.  It's going to be a million years until Tuesday, and yet it will be here too soon.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Please keep Nadine in your prayers...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2607677026989126711?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2607677026989126711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2607677026989126711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2607677026989126711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2607677026989126711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/07/updates-on-wednesdayand-rant-about.html' title='Updates on a Wednesday...and a rant about doctors and diabetes!!'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4274983612102436907</id><published>2009-06-23T04:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T05:05:40.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pardon me Roy, I'm at the Chattanooga Choo Choo...</title><content type='html'>So I'm at a conference on the new curriculum standards, and I'm staying at the historic Chattanooga Choo Choo.  It is very nice, and since I booked through hotwire.com, I got the room for a steal.  Better yet, the state of TN is going to reimburse me, so it will be free eventually...yay!  I am trying very hard to enjoy myself, but there's so much going on at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother-in-law is having a terrible health scare right now, and I so wish I was back home for that.  I talked to Greg last night and told him I was coming home, but he insisted I stay.  He said there was nothing I could do if I were here.  Still...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, I just told Greg a few days ago that I had not been able to shake the feeling of dread that came over me all of a sudden one night.  I hope that it's just a coincidence.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please keep our Nadine in your prayers.  She is one of the sweetest and most loving ladies I have ever known.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4274983612102436907?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4274983612102436907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4274983612102436907' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4274983612102436907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4274983612102436907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/06/pardon-me-roy-im-at-chattanooga-choo.html' title='Pardon me Roy, I&apos;m at the Chattanooga Choo Choo...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4375072268006384728</id><published>2009-06-09T07:53:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T08:15:38.781-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Years Ago Today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;The greatest man in the world made me the happiest woman in the world...the best part? Life just gets better with every passing day.  There's no better feeling than knowing you've found someone who loves you no matter what happens, who stands by you and protects you with all his heart, who thinks you are way more beautiful than you really are, who calls you his best friend (and means it), and who still makes your heart skip a beat when he walks in the room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago today, I was happy and thrilled to become the wife of such a wonderful man.  Two years later, I am even more happy to be his wife.  That short walk down the aisle was the beginning of the greatest journey of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song we played at our wedding is linked on my Twitter posts to your right--I tried to post it here, but to no avail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day everyone--I know I will!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4375072268006384728?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4375072268006384728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4375072268006384728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4375072268006384728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4375072268006384728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/06/two-years-ago-today_09.html' title='Two Years Ago Today...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-8310357020874824664</id><published>2009-06-07T11:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T11:16:30.038-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not much to update, but here goes...</title><content type='html'>Hi everyone,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'm afraid life isn't very exciting right now; I don't have much to report, but I figured since I hadn't posted since Memorial Day, I should remedy that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The garden is going well--the beans and tomatoes are all blooming, we have little baby squash and baby grape tomatoes, and we've not had to buy lettuce for over a month--yay!  The garden makes me so happy and peaceful--there's nothing like going out and playing in the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been doing some spring cleaning since school's been out.  I cleaned out the cabinets in the huge coffee table in the living room, cleaned out the buffet in the dining room, and tackled the closet in the living room.  Problem is, I hurt my back while working on the living room closet.  I bent down to pick up something small, and when I did something popped and OUCH!!!  That was Friday, but it's much better and I should be back to normal in another day or so.  I've resolved that this will not get me down for  long, because I have too many things I want to do to be incapacitated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, something else that looms on the horizon:  I went to get new glasses the other day and found out that I have some retinal damage in the back of my right eye, probably from the times after my gallbladder surgery when my blood pressure and blood sugar were so astronomically high.  After all, we don't know how long I was a Type I diabetic before I was diagnosed, and often my blood sugar was over 600 while I was sick.  The doctor will probably have to do some laser surgery on the back of my eye, but I'm told it's no big deal--yeah, just a LASER BEAM to the back of my FREAKIN' EYEBALL--UGH!!!   Anyway, I won't find out until July 1st, so it must not be too urgent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg's classes are going well, but he's stressing, of course.  God love him, I wish I could give him some confidence so he would realize how smart he is.  He just knows he's not going to do well, and I (and everyone else that knows him) knows better than that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, back to the grind...have a good Sunday, everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-8310357020874824664?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/8310357020874824664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=8310357020874824664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/8310357020874824664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/8310357020874824664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-much-to-update-but-here-goes.html' title='Not much to update, but here goes...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2297954923331417874</id><published>2009-05-25T08:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T08:11:37.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Memorial Day...I'm counting down!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Good morning everyone,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Starting a quiet Memorial Day here at Chateau Hillis...we've had our coffee/breakfast, and now we're discussing plans for the afternoon.  The in-laws are having a little cookout this afternoon, and then our little guy goes back home to his mommy, stepdad and sister.  I went to pick him up Friday and it was fun having some time for just the two of us.   &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'm literally counting down the minutes, the seconds until summer vacation starts.  I have such plans for my time this summer.  Gardening, reading, planning my lessons for next year, a short trip to Gatlinburg, more gardening, canning, and just enjoying my time.  I am so glad I feel so much better than I did this time last year--last summer was just a blur of feeling miserable and not knowing why.  Turns out, it was the diabetes giving my body such a hard time. Thank God it was something treatable, and not something much, much worse. Now I feel so much better that I can do so much more and enjoy life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Take care, everyone...I'll be back soon with a "start of the summer" report.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2297954923331417874?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2297954923331417874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2297954923331417874' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2297954923331417874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2297954923331417874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-memorial-dayi-counting-down.html' title='Happy Memorial Day...I&amp;#39;m counting down!'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7597977862303273740</id><published>2009-05-13T12:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T13:06:26.132-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If I Could, Would I Change Anything?</title><content type='html'>My friend Dana wrote a wonderful post on her blog about the things in her life she would change if she could, and those she wouldn't change for anything.  Imitation, as you know, is the sincerest form of flattery, and while I have a WHOLE PLANNING PERIOD WITH NOTHING TO DO--THANK YOU JESUS!!--I'm going to ponder this concept myself for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course we all know you can't go back to the past (and as we've seen from countless time-travel stories and movies, it's usually never a good idea to do so) but what if we could?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In thinking about this, I know for sure there are things I would never change, and some I regret--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would marry my Greg again in less than a heartbeat.  He is the love of my life and the best thing that ever happened to me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I honestly would not change the time Greg and I married to an earlier year...I don't think I was ready to be a married woman until he came along, and I don't know where his heart was before I met him.  I had a lot of heartache before Greg, but I had a lot of good times as well.  I had times I wouldn't trade for anything.  I learned to be my own person, to live independently, and to take care of myself.  I learned about all aspects of romantic love--to love someone who didn't love me back, to be loved by someone who I didn't love, and to be in love with someone who wanted to be with me but couldn't.  I've traveled, made friends, lost friends, made plans, broke promises, given my all, given up, given in, all in the pursuit of who I was to become.  That's who Greg fell in love with. I can't change that, and don't want to.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would have not given my mama such a hard time as a teenager.  I was mean, smart-mouthed and awful at times, and I still apologize to this day about my behavior.  I hate the way I treated her at times, and I regret the time I wasted that I could have spent with her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I regret not listening to my own heart and mind which were telling me to become a teacher years and years ago. Instead, I listened to my guidance counselors from high school (no offense, guidance counselors) who told me I should be an accountant because I was "good with numbers" and I wound up flunking out and not going back for 16 years.  Whenever I think of all the amazing years I could have had working with these kids, it makes me so sad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I regret not standing up for myself when I was a fat little girl and people made fun of me. I was made to feel that I was less-than-human because I took up more space in the world, and I should have just told the people who treated me that way to shut up and leave me alone. Instead I would cry and beat myself up over it.  If I had my time to do over, I'd let 'em have it!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;And so it goes...all in all, I can't say there's much I would change, because all of it made me ME, which isn't so bad most days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-7597977862303273740?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7597977862303273740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7597977862303273740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7597977862303273740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7597977862303273740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-i-could-would-i-change-anything.html' title='If I Could, Would I Change Anything?'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3112732339902079922</id><published>2009-05-12T13:04:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T13:22:03.107-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peace rose'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='roses'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flowers'/><title type='text'>Peace Rose...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6Vj-OrkI/AAAAAAAAAf4/f2jmNkxD_zs/s1600-h/000_0098.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6Vj-OrkI/AAAAAAAAAf4/f2jmNkxD_zs/s320/000_0098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335000113193332290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6uCX1EzI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/N5GvYuV6pM0/s1600-h/000_0112.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6uCX1EzI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/N5GvYuV6pM0/s320/000_0112.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335000533670630194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6mBoFO4I/AAAAAAAAAgI/M9y4Tjgvio4/s1600-h/000_0107.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6mBoFO4I/AAAAAAAAAgI/M9y4Tjgvio4/s320/000_0107.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335000396031409026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6d1J_gzI/AAAAAAAAAgA/Dkhy0gN2NAI/s1600-h/000_0106.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6d1J_gzI/AAAAAAAAAgA/Dkhy0gN2NAI/s320/000_0106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335000255245026098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are shots of the first peace rose that has bloomed on the bush Greg and I planted last year...I never dreamed I could grow something this beautiful.  Guess I inherited my Ma-Maw's green thumb after all.  By the way, if you were going to enter one of these pics in a photo contest, which would it be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3112732339902079922?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3112732339902079922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3112732339902079922' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3112732339902079922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3112732339902079922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/05/peace-rose.html' title='Peace Rose...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Sgm6Vj-OrkI/AAAAAAAAAf4/f2jmNkxD_zs/s72-c/000_0098.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5535939661192202414</id><published>2009-05-10T07:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T07:29:30.258-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mothers Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SgbGyHzeMhI/AAAAAAAAAfc/LhAB6WgxS2M/%5BUNSET%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' style='max-width: 800px;'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Here's to the most beautiful mom in the world--&lt;br/&gt;My dearest friend,&lt;br/&gt;My most trusted confidante,&lt;br/&gt;My #1 cheerleader,&lt;br/&gt;and the only person to love me unconditionally.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Happy Mothers Day, Mama.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;and Happy Mothers Day to all the moms in the world--&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;the Luckiest Women On Earth.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;May the joys of motherhood always outweigh the sorrows,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;and remember that God always sees the sacrifices you make even when others don't.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class='zemanta-pixie'&gt;&lt;img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=e8c717f9-1677-8510-9f85-87cb3fa4e3e3' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/&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/1535228277234234617-5535939661192202414?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5535939661192202414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5535939661192202414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5535939661192202414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5535939661192202414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mothers Day!'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SgbGyHzeMhI/AAAAAAAAAfc/LhAB6WgxS2M/s72-c/%5BUNSET%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7411127343738248875</id><published>2009-05-09T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T10:14:52.681-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a medical oddity, as usual...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;News on the medical front; seems that I am now a Type I diabetic AND a Type II diabetic.  I had always thought that you could only be one or the other, but it appears that in rare cases, it is possible to have one and develop the other. I developed Type II diabetes (non-insulin dependent) in about 1990, and my blood sugars since my gallbladder surgery had become drastictly higher and increasingly unstable.  A test for something called polypeptide levels revealed that I had developed Type I diabetes (insulin dependent) as well.  The good news?  Now there's hope for controlling my glucose levels.  The bad news?   More insulin shots.  Yay.  More shots.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Oh well...at least I know I wasn't doing anything wrong.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What else is going on...oh, the garden is coming along famously.  All I have left to plant are my tomato plants and my poppies in my flower bed Greg built for me in the front yard.  When it stops raining so much, I'll take some photos and post them.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Greg and I bought two more rose bushes, a yellow rose and a red rose.  They are small, but showing signs of new growth.  The pink rose bush, the peace rose bush, and the salmon/pink rose bush (also known as "Nee-Nee's Rose") are growing beautifully.    I've planted a  pot of basil and a rosemary plant on the porch that are both doing fine.  I've also started six pots of other herbs which are sprouting--two of parsley, sage, thyme, lemon basil, and another pot of sweet basil.   The crowning glories are two "sweet 100" grape tomato plants who are already 2 ft tall.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In the garden, we've planted peas, green beans, arugula, two kinds of lettuce, onions, cabbage, spinach, kholrabi, yellow crookneck squash, cucumbers, banana peppers, beets, and carrots.  The only thing that hasn't sprouted are the carrots.  Also we have already picked about three quarts of strawberries from our plants--they are so tender and flavorful!  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The birds have even contributed to the garden, in their own way--all throughout the garden plot there are randomly placed sunflower plants "planted" by the birds who dropped them from the bird feeder while in flight.  Greg and I decided to just leave them there--how cool will it be to have big, smiling sunflowers keeping watch over our vegetables?  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I can't wait for summer...I plan on having garden dirt under my fingernails all season!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Take care everyone...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class='zemanta-pixie'&gt;&lt;img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=11462c15-c083-8c54-bc4d-c0e0560feab6' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/&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/1535228277234234617-7411127343738248875?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7411127343738248875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7411127343738248875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7411127343738248875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7411127343738248875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-medical-oddity-as-usual_09.html' title='I&amp;#39;m a medical oddity, as usual...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4896402245396412344</id><published>2009-04-23T18:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T18:51:41.942-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to brag about my darling...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font color='#66ffff'&gt;I have such good news!!! My Greg has gotten into the BASE-TN program at Tennessee Tech in Cookeville. The program is going to pay his tuition to become a licensed special education teacher.  I am SO proud of him!! It took a great deal of hard work and effort for him to get this award, and he deserves every bit of it.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;His goal is to become a comprehensive k-12 special ed teacher, which is where he is meant to be.  The students in that area love him so, so much, and he loves them too.  He has such patience with them, and they think he hung the moon (well, he did, of course!).  When we walk down the hall together at work, they see him and their faces just light up.  The Comprehensive program needs a wonderful, caring man like him.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Have I mentioned lately how proud I am of him? Have I mentioned lately how much I love him?  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class='zemanta-pixie'&gt;&lt;img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=829deca4-5949-89ca-9f87-7c5e603290fc' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/&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/1535228277234234617-4896402245396412344?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4896402245396412344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4896402245396412344' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4896402245396412344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4896402245396412344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/04/time-to-brag-about-my-darling_23.html' title='Time to brag about my darling...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-9183935560376997549</id><published>2009-03-17T11:05:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T11:15:25.830-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Greg pain God relationships Romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blessings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Greg'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='financial stress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poverty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Okay, Pity Party is Over...</title><content type='html'>This was one long stretch of feeling sorry for myself.  I HATE when I do that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I look at all the reasons I want a baby, there are just as many (if not more) reasons why I don't need to have a baby.  My age, my health, our financial situation...not to mention having a child with a man who doesn't want another child.  That's not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the possibility of Greg changing jobs, I would be on my own a great deal of the time.  It's hard enough to raise a child with two parents, but with just one?!?  There's no way I'd do that to a little one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will focus on the positives in life, of which there are many:  I have a man who loves me, the most precious stepson ever (who turns 10 TOMORROW!!!), amazing in-laws, a mama who is my best friend, a job that I love so much.  Yes, we are broke...VERY broke.  But I've never been well-off financially--it's not been much of an adjustment.  I am happy, despite having no money. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If a child comes into my life somehow, then I will embrace the blessing. If not, I will be grateful for all the blessings I have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-9183935560376997549?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/9183935560376997549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=9183935560376997549' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/9183935560376997549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/9183935560376997549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/03/okay-pity-party-is-over.html' title='Okay, Pity Party is Over...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2642962051847108979</id><published>2009-02-22T20:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T20:16:17.749-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Greg'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mother'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mommy'/><title type='text'>Baby Blues...When Do They Go Away?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;How do you live with the knowledge that one of the things you want most in the world will never be yours?  How do you learn not to want that thing? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for peace, for resolution, for realization that I will never be a mom, but the yearning for a baby never goes away.  Everyone tells me that I touch kids' lives, that I make a difference, but the problem is I have them for a little bit and then I lose them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to get my Greg to understand why it bothers me so much, but he can't see it.  He HAS a child, he IS a father.  He vows that it will never happen to him again.  He's taken steps to make sure it never happens again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my stepson, please know that.  That's what's so painful.  I know he will never love me the way I want him to...he can't. I'm not mommy. I'm Charlotte. I'll never be anyone's mommy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about my mom and my in-laws, and how I can't give them the joy of a grandbaby.  Hell, Greg's ex-wife has given my in-laws two grandkids, and one of them isn't even Greg's.  Don't think that doesn't rip my heart out.  I'm glad they love the new baby, really glad--she's a beautiful and sweet little girl. but it hurts so much to know that I have nothing to offer them.  I have no money, no babies, no talents...just me.  I know they regret me marrying Greg, but I love him so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/66934b8c-7454-4aa3-8961-bb35f6784a3a/" title="Zemified by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=66934b8c-7454-4aa3-8961-bb35f6784a3a" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2642962051847108979?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2642962051847108979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2642962051847108979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2642962051847108979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2642962051847108979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/02/baby-blueswhen-do-they-go-away.html' title='Baby Blues...When Do They Go Away?'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4675245905485678061</id><published>2009-02-18T20:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T20:07:51.842-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pictures of You'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robert Smith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Cure'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='80s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alternative Music'/><title type='text'>One of my Favorite Songs in the World...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;div class="youtube-video"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EG0Q3kR7_9c" name="movie"&gt; &lt;param value="transparent" name="wmode"&gt; &lt;embed wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EG0Q3kR7_9c" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;   &lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="padding-left: 0px; display: none;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the cure - pictures of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/ab5d216d-48d0-4d6d-88de-426979aa94bf/" title="Zemified by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=ab5d216d-48d0-4d6d-88de-426979aa94bf" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4675245905485678061?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4675245905485678061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4675245905485678061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4675245905485678061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4675245905485678061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-of-my-favorite-songs-in-world.html' title='One of my Favorite Songs in the World...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5530384901695464684</id><published>2009-02-13T11:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T14:15:02.191-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='People'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i love jesus but i drink a little'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellen Degeneres Show'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gladys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drink'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellen DeGeneres'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ellen Show'/><title type='text'>Funny Video from "Ellen" Show--I love Jesus, But I Drink a Little</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;I LOVE JESUS (but I drink a little)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a link from one of my students about this...This is an awesome clip from "The Ellen Degeneres Show" featuring Gladys--an 88-year-old Ellen fan who is so hilarious she should have her own show--enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="youtube-video"&gt;&lt;div style="padding-left: 0px; display: none;" ontop="true"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param value="http://www.youtube.com/v/83JDXXKzOXg" name="movie"&gt; &lt;param value="transparent" name="wmode"&gt; &lt;embed wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/83JDXXKzOXg" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;   &lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellen DeGeneres ~ I Love Jesus But I Drink A Little (HQ)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/e1cab27e-2a24-40f5-9e24-e89e22e8f130/" title="Zemified by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=e1cab27e-2a24-40f5-9e24-e89e22e8f130" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5530384901695464684?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5530384901695464684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5530384901695464684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5530384901695464684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5530384901695464684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/02/funny-video-from-show-i-love-jesus-but.html' title='Funny Video from &amp;quot;Ellen&amp;quot; Show--I love Jesus, But I Drink a Little'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-785493745031834665</id><published>2009-02-10T20:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T20:42:40.714-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Greg pain God relationships Romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Greg'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Online Writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Arts'/><title type='text'>Something I Noticed...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;A while back, a long while back, I came to grips with the reality that a man I loved would never love me.  I realized that no matter what I did I would never be who/what he wanted. It was one of the most devastating truths I've ever had to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so painful. I would cry every time I thought of him, which was almost constantly.  I would drive past his house any chance I got, just to get a glimpse of him.  I would try to get in touch with him every chance I could because I couldn't let go.  I prayed to God that if this man couldn't love me, then I needed God to take that man out of my heart forever, to take the love and longing away so I wouldn't be in such pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I struggled along as best I could, and went on with life.  A couple of months later, Greg entered the picture.  The rest, as they say, is history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I saw that other man, I almost laughed out loud to think of the desperate love I used to have for him.  I honestly could not relate to those feelings at all--it was as if someone else had whispered them to me in confidence--as if they had not been my own at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at that moment that I realized God had truly answered my prayers  in the form of my husband Greg.  Every day I love him more and more.  I know I can count on him to stand by me through anything.  I know he thinks I'm beautiful, and I know I am the only woman for him.  I don't have to settle for being second choice; I'm his first choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm free from the past--and the feeling is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/c4377845-cd45-4973-b087-22e7db19fb30/" title="Zemified by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=c4377845-cd45-4973-b087-22e7db19fb30" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-785493745031834665?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/785493745031834665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=785493745031834665' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/785493745031834665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/785493745031834665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/02/something-i-noticed.html' title='Something I Noticed...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-8401738357345611998</id><published>2009-02-08T09:22:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T09:27:51.031-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Long time, no post...</title><content type='html'>Wish I could say I've been performing miracles during my absence from this blog, but that would be a lie.  I've been getting by...that's about the size of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to say I've been completely on autopilot, or completely in the depths of despair...I've just been so busy with the little ins and outs of life that I've not had anything I felt I should report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do, however, have an introduction to make--it's a little late, but it's no less heartfelt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to the world, baby D.A.Z.  We're happy you're here and so happy to meet you.  You've been blessed with an amazing family, who will love you more than you will ever be able to know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-8401738357345611998?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/8401738357345611998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=8401738357345611998' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/8401738357345611998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/8401738357345611998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/02/long-time-no-post.html' title='Long time, no post...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2075806548203151665</id><published>2009-01-09T17:11:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T17:18:12.265-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myspace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Facebook'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photo editing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='image creator'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photofunia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photo art'/><title type='text'>Photofunia--A Fun New Look</title><content type='html'>Ah, the fun you can have with a new website. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the photo above, in the header of this blog?  I would love to say I created it in some photo editing program, but I'm not that talented (or that patient).  Truth is, it is the product of a great site called &lt;a href="http://www.photofunia.com"&gt;Photofunia&lt;/a&gt; which creates some cool, sexy, or downright hilarious images using your personal photos.  You select a scene, upload your image, and viola! Instant photographic art.  You can then save your created image to disk and use it on a blog, a social network like Facebook or Myspace, as a desktop wallpaper, etc.  It's a great site, and lots of fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2075806548203151665?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2075806548203151665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2075806548203151665' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2075806548203151665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2075806548203151665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2009/01/photofunia-fun-new-look.html' title='Photofunia--A Fun New Look'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3254865884903790052</id><published>2008-12-28T11:38:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T12:00:58.315-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home remedies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='milk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='puffy eyes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tired eyes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soothing tired eyes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cucumber'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teabags for eyes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='remedy'/><title type='text'>Jeepers, Creepers, How Can You Help Those Eyes?!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SVe6IF60VWI/AAAAAAAAAWc/fdiBFUaTPYs/s1600-h/eye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SVe6IF60VWI/AAAAAAAAAWc/fdiBFUaTPYs/s320/eye.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284897335933162850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, the holiday season...time for food, fun, gifts, and gatherings with those we love.  It's a great time of year--except for our poor little peepers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This busy holiday season also usually means time for late-night revelry, stress, high emotions, arguing (come on, admit it--not everyone has a "Norman Rockwell" Christmas), allergies, and the ever-present lack of sleep. These can take a toll on our eyes, making them red, swollen, and puffy.  Nothing prettier in those family photos, right? Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a few home remedy ideas to help alleviate the redness, swelling, and puffiness in your eyes--during this busy season and any other time.  **NOTE:  these are home remedies, so use caution, as you need to take care when dealing with the delicate eye area.  Keep in mind your general eye health, personal allergies (i.e., if you're allergic to it, DON'T USE IT), etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Milk does a body good--and it can be an awesome soother for your tired, puffy eyes.  Just take a small bowl of milk (as cold as you can get it--icy cold is perfect), and dip cotton balls in the milk.  Hold your head back and apply to your (tightly closed) tired puffy eyes.  The coolness feels great! Replace the cotton balls a couple of times (or more, if you have time), and enjoy the cool sensation.  Be sure to rinse your face with cold water afterward, and use your favorite moisturizer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Speaking of moisturizer, if you use an eye cream/moisturizer, keep it in the fridge--you'd be surprised how much it will do for tired puffy eyes just because of the cold temperature.  Use the cream as directed, and enjoy the cooling sensation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Almost everyone has heard of the tried-and-true "cucumber slices on the eyes" trick for tired puffy eyes--and there's a good reason for that:  it works.  Cucumbers contain a natural astringent that helps smooth and tighten skin, and chiling the cucumber slices will make it so refreshing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  If you have an aversion to cucumbers, try chilled fresh strawberry slices--the berries also contain a skin-smoothing astringent and will soothe tired, puffy eyes.  Just be sure you watch out for staining from the strawberry juice--fresh cold berries don't exude as much juice as room temperature ones, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I learned this one from an aunt--soak two teabags in ice cold water.  While they are soaking, apply a small amount of olive oil to a cotton ball and gently stroke a light coat of oil on the under-eye area where there's puffiness.  Gently squeeze the excess water out of the teabags, lie back, and place the teabags over your (shut) eyes.  Leave on for 10 minutes, then remove and rinse/pat dry face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  The best defense against tired puffy eyes?  Prevention!  Avoid lots of salty foods, too much alcohol, or excessive amounts of caffeine.  Try to get as much rest as possible, and drink lots of hydrating beverages--water, vegetable/light fruit juices, herbal tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, both you and your "peepers" will survive the holidays with flying colors!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3254865884903790052?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3254865884903790052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3254865884903790052' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3254865884903790052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3254865884903790052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/12/jeepers-creepers-how-can-you-help-those.html' title='Jeepers, Creepers, How Can You Help Those Eyes?!?'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SVe6IF60VWI/AAAAAAAAAWc/fdiBFUaTPYs/s72-c/eye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-6329551681756513997</id><published>2008-12-27T19:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T19:34:37.660-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SVbXqyu4t7I/AAAAAAAAAWU/TViQKBVusME/s1600-h/100_4863.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SVbXqyu4t7I/AAAAAAAAAWU/TViQKBVusME/s320/100_4863.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  This is a shot I just took of my lil' guy trying to take a nap...he's a doll!&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-6329551681756513997?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/6329551681756513997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=6329551681756513997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6329551681756513997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6329551681756513997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/12/this-is-shot-i-just-took-of-my-lil-guy.html' title=''/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SVbXqyu4t7I/AAAAAAAAAWU/TViQKBVusME/s72-c/100_4863.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3918267516212588793</id><published>2008-12-27T08:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T08:58:01.018-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Story of the Week...one last bit of Christmas...</title><content type='html'>For the story of the week, here's a classic heart-warmer that shows the true meaning of this season, and the glory of true love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Gift of the Magi"&lt;br /&gt;by O. Henry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pierglass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks.  Della, being slender, had mastered the art.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting.  Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."       Down rippled the brown cascade.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"Give it to me quick," said Della.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company.  Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl.  But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops. Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Della wriggled off the table and went for him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jim looked about the room curiously.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you.  Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della.  For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch.  I want to see how it looks on it."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.  But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;THE END&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/1535228277234234617-3918267516212588793?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3918267516212588793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3918267516212588793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3918267516212588793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3918267516212588793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/12/short-story-of-weekone-last-bit-of.html' title='Short Story of the Week...one last bit of Christmas...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-140439542860240590</id><published>2008-12-26T08:46:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T08:46:00.946-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='slaw'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='salad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ramen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recipe'/><title type='text'>Recipe of the Week--Ramen Noodle Slaw</title><content type='html'>This is a salad that I recently discovered--it is easy and delicious.  Serve as a side dish, or add chopped cooked chicken to make a wonderful luncheon salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ramen Noodle Slaw&lt;br /&gt;(serves 8 or so as a side dish)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 1-lb. package pre-cut coleslaw mix (cabbage or cabbage/carrots)&lt;br /&gt;2 packages oriental flavored ramen noodles, uncooked, crushed, seasoning packets reserved&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup thinly sliced scallions&lt;br /&gt;1 cup roasted salted sunflower kernels&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup sliced almonds&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup apple cider vineager&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup sugar (or sugar substitute to equal 1/2 cup sugar--Splenda works well)&lt;br /&gt;1 tbsp. soy sauce&lt;br /&gt;1/2 tsp salt&lt;br /&gt;2/3 cup light salad oil (vegetable oil, corn oil, canola oil, sunflower or safflower oil)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a large bowl, combine coleslaw mix, uncooked broken ramen noodles, scallions, sunflower kernels, and almonds.  Set aside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a small mixing bowl combine contents of both seasoning packets, vinegar, sugar, soy sauce, and salt; whisk until well combined and sugar is dissolved.  Gradually add oil, whisking continuously, until all oil is incorporated.  Pour this dressing over the cabbage mixture and toss together.  Refrigerate for 30 min to 1 hour, then serve.  Yummy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-140439542860240590?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/140439542860240590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=140439542860240590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/140439542860240590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/140439542860240590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/12/recipe-of-week-ramen-noodle-slaw.html' title='Recipe of the Week--Ramen Noodle Slaw'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2006035300217417103</id><published>2008-12-25T12:44:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T13:12:58.530-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Richard Wilbur'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Poem of the Week--"A Christmas Hymn" by Richard Wilbur</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;h1 align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A Christmas Hymn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h2 align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;by Richard Wilber&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A stable-lamp is lighted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whose glow shall wake the sky;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stars shall bend their voices,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every stone shall cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every stone shall cry,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And straw like gold shall shine;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A barn shall harbor heaven,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A stall become a shrine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This child through David's city&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shall ride in triumph by;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The palm shall strew its branches,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every stone shall cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every stone shall cry,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though heavy, dull, and dumb,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lie within the roadway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To pave his kingdom come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yet he shall be forsaken,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yielded up to die;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky shall groan and darken,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every stone shall cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every stone shall cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For stony hearts of men:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God's blood upon the spearhead,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God's love refused again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But now, as at the ending,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The low is lifted high;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The stars shall bend their voices,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And every stone shall cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And every stone shall cry,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In praises of the child,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;By whose descent among us,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The worlds are reconciled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2006035300217417103?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2006035300217417103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2006035300217417103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2006035300217417103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2006035300217417103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/12/poem-of-day-christmas-hymn-by-richard.html' title='Poem of the Week--&amp;quot;A Christmas Hymn&amp;quot; by Richard Wilbur'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3829907430214387649</id><published>2008-12-24T07:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T07:57:49.981-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Use the "R-Word"...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Resolutions...just the sound of the word makes my head hurt.  Every year, I make lofty promises to myself that I never wind up keeping.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I decided this year to set goals--small, reachable goals that perhaps I can accomplish throughout the year.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;For 2009, my goals are:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;1.  To stop worrying about being a big  girl, and focus on getting healthy. I've always been big, I always will be, and I need to try to make changes to live better no matter what size I am.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;2.  To forgive myself for my mistakes--past, present, and future.  I've forgiven others for the pain they have caused me; now it's time to forgive myself.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;3.  To make sure my husband knows I love him every day.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;4.  To be the best stepmom I can be.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;5.  To be the best teacher I can be.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I hope you, my dear readers--all four of you (lol)--have a wonderful holiday season, and the best New Year ever.  Thanks for being here to listen to me. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3829907430214387649?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3829907430214387649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3829907430214387649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3829907430214387649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3829907430214387649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/12/don-use.html' title='Don&amp;#39;t Use the &amp;quot;R-Word&amp;quot;...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7375234311497803488</id><published>2008-11-29T14:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T14:26:00.292-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do People Live With Themselves?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;I can't stop thinking about the poor man who died from being trampled by customers rushing to buy sale items at a Wal-Mart in New York.  It makes me sick thinking about the people who just walked over this man and left him there, and the people who became irate when the store was closed.  What has happened to people?  Why are people so thoughtless and cruel?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This was not my first reminder of this fact, of course; however, this just hit me in the gut, considering the season.  This poor man will not be with his family EVER AGAIN because some people were so crazed to save money on a flat-screen TV or a Wii.  Ridiculous and so, so sad.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I guess it just really hit home because this year has been so lean financially, and we're only going to be able to buy for our little boy this year.  We've asked everyone not to buy for us because a) we don't need anything and b) we cannot reciprocate.  But you know, it doesn't even matter. This is the first holiday season in a long, long time where my heart is so full that I feel rich beyond belief.  I have found a peace and contentment that was never there before, I have forgiven people who hurt me (and I mean TRULY forgiven), and my soul is in a place I never thought I'd find.  I have a darling husband who means the world to me, and he feels the same way.  My family has more than doubled, and I'm so grateful to have them all...especially my little guy.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;There may be no presents under the tree this year, but they'll not be missed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-7375234311497803488?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7375234311497803488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7375234311497803488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7375234311497803488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7375234311497803488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/11/how-do-people-live-with-themselves.html' title='How Do People Live With Themselves?'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-988110137268586712</id><published>2008-11-23T12:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T12:28:02.616-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The world is looking a little better...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Hi.&lt;br/&gt;I'm back.&lt;br/&gt;For now, anyway.&lt;br/&gt;I can't say all is well, but it's getting better.&lt;br/&gt;There was a point in time, not so long ago, where I thought that I was going to lose it completely, but I took a step back, took a deep breath, found some help, and turned back to God, which I hadn't done in a long time, I'm sad to say.  It's not that I lost my faith in him, it's that I lost faith in myself...faith, confidence, all that stuff.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;With the help of some great new friends, my wonderful husband, and my renewed faith, I'm on my way back.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The first step was hard; it always is when you're in a pit.  However, as many of us know, you have to hit bottom sometimes before you can head back up.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Here's to step one of one million...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;If you pray, I ask that you pray He sends me a little more strength to get me through the journey.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-988110137268586712?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/988110137268586712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=988110137268586712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/988110137268586712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/988110137268586712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/11/world-is-looking-little-better.html' title='The world is looking a little better...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-945473947834422309</id><published>2008-10-29T16:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T16:39:05.825-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things are looking a little better...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;I have to admit I've been in a bit of a funk lately.  However, I've decided that I'm going to just buck up and get over it.  I am not going to start the 43rd year of my life with a negative attitude, no-siree-bob. Nope.  I've got too much to look forward to in this life.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So...how's every little thing with all of you?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-945473947834422309?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/945473947834422309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=945473947834422309' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/945473947834422309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/945473947834422309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-are-looking-little-better.html' title='Things are looking a little better...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5765325550857531574</id><published>2008-10-23T04:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T04:56:22.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>News from the Doctor...sigh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;I am so exhausted, but turns out there was a good reason for it.  I thought I was just down and depressed or something, but I am apparently still having some major health issues:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;1.  My thyroid is way out of whack--I don't have near enough thyroid stimulating hormone in my system.&lt;br/&gt;2.  My body isn't absorbing vitamin B12, and I'm going to have to get shots for it.&lt;br/&gt;3.  One of my medications was wreaking havoc with my blood sugar--I'm going to have to stop it, but there's no substitute.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got a flu shot yesterday, as well as my first B12 shot, and the doctor upped my thyroid medicine, so maybe I'll start feeling better.  To think I almost canceled my appointment while Greg and I were in the waiting room.  Greg had to get to school in Lynchburg, and I didn't want him to be late.  He said it didn't matter, that I was more important.  He's so good to me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;People tease us at work because they say we are still "honeymooning."  I don't know about all that; I just know that it has been a year and four months, and I'm still crazy about him--scratch that; it gets better every day.  When I'm waiting on him to get home from school, I miss him as if I haven't seen him all day.  When I see his car go past the front of the house toward the driveway, I literally get butterflies in my stomach.  I still rush to the back door to greet him with a hug and kiss before he even gets in the house.  He gets more and more handsome every day!  I hope it never changes.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Okay, enough of that...sorry.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I hope that these new treatments will make me feel better again...I want to be better for my kids at school, for my husband, and for my life in general.  But mainly, I just want to feel better.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5765325550857531574?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5765325550857531574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5765325550857531574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5765325550857531574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5765325550857531574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/10/news-from-doctorsigh.html' title='News from the Doctor...sigh...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-1360471017237138355</id><published>2008-10-17T09:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T09:43:14.032-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes We Can...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font face='Monotype Corsiva'&gt;&lt;font color='#006600'&gt;&lt;b&gt;I am so thrilled...yesterday my hubby and I were out shopping, and he turned the opposite way from home on the way back.  I asked him what he was doing and he said, "you'll see."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We wound up in front of the local Democratic party headquarters.  He went in and came out a moment later with an Obama/Biden lawn sign!!! My husband has become a Democrat....yes, yes, yes!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I knew it might happen someday, but not this soon.  My prayer has been answered!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I have a very good feeling about this election; I am so excited to think that we will finally have a Democrat back in the White House.  Not just a Democrat, but one I believe in.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I also have a very good feeling about the fact that we all have a very, very good chance to witness a major historical event with the election of Barack Obama.  I was born during the Civil Rights Movement, saw the results of change, but still I never dreamed an African American president would come along in my lifetime.  I'm so happy I was wrong...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;If you don't agree with me, that's fine; so be it.  Get your own blog and talk about it.  I personally am excited and thrilled with what Obama hopes to bring to the American people with his presidency, and I am more than willing to help make change happen.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Stepping off the soapbox and continuing with the day now...take care all...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Charlotte&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-1360471017237138355?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/1360471017237138355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=1360471017237138355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/1360471017237138355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/1360471017237138355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/10/yes-we-can.html' title='Yes We Can...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4855718948348032492</id><published>2008-09-27T05:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T05:21:17.983-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some poetry...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font color='#000099'&gt;&lt;font face='Monotype Corsiva'&gt;&lt;b&gt;Found some of my old poetry while cleaning out files on my desktop computer.  Thought I would post some of it here.  Hope you enjoy it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;b&gt;Divinity&lt;br/&gt;by Charlotte Wooden (Hillis)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Your eyes reflect&lt;br/&gt;my silent confessions&lt;br/&gt;that only you can hear…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The anointment of your touch&lt;br/&gt;restores in me a faith&lt;br/&gt;I had not known since childhood…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On your lips, my name&lt;br/&gt;is like a prayer that&lt;br/&gt;guarantees my salvation…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Your presence in my life&lt;br/&gt;has proven to me&lt;br/&gt;the existence of Divinity.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Are you truly oblivious&lt;br/&gt;to the halcyon effect&lt;br/&gt;you have on my soul?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I had always heard&lt;br/&gt;that all Saints knew&lt;br/&gt;when they were touched by God. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Ghost and the Silence&lt;br/&gt;by Charlotte Wooden (Hillis)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Endless nights of dreams...&lt;br/&gt;my heart cannot let you go.&lt;br/&gt;Despite my efforts to forget them,&lt;br/&gt;these dreams become the mantra &lt;br/&gt;crossing my lips in sleep...&lt;br/&gt;could it be those sweet lines&lt;br/&gt;I breathe into the darkness&lt;br/&gt;are fed into my ear one kiss at a time&lt;br/&gt;by the ghost of your love--&lt;br/&gt;born in this same darkness,&lt;br/&gt;nourished by the fruit of passion,&lt;br/&gt;killed by the Silence contained in the walls?&lt;br/&gt;I remain forever haunted by this love&lt;br/&gt;while the Ghost and and the Silence hold hands and smile&lt;br/&gt;as they await the approach of daylight...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font color='#009900'&gt;&lt;b&gt;In an Instant&lt;br/&gt;by Charlotte Wooden (Hillis)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It can all be taken &lt;br/&gt;In an instant…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Don’t hold your breath;&lt;br/&gt;even that is not &lt;br/&gt;yours to own forever.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Shattered glass, &lt;br/&gt;shattered dreams,&lt;br/&gt;shattered visage of security.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What do you see &lt;br/&gt;when you stare down&lt;br/&gt;Death’s closed eyes?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What comes to mind&lt;br/&gt;when there’s no time to think?&lt;br/&gt;There are no answers,&lt;br/&gt;only endless questions…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What meant the most?&lt;br/&gt;Where did you go?&lt;br/&gt;Who did you touch?&lt;br/&gt;When did it begin?&lt;br/&gt;Is this where it ends?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And the greatest question of all…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What have you let love teach you? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4855718948348032492?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4855718948348032492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4855718948348032492' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4855718948348032492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4855718948348032492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-poetry.html' title='Some poetry...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-646271818859554315</id><published>2008-09-21T17:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T17:48:06.201-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The More Frail They Are, the Harder They Fall...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Got a call at 5:30 this morning; didn't wake me--I had been up since 3:30.  It was my mama--she had fallen on her porch and dragged herself into the house to call us for help.  I woke up Greg and we rushed over.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When we arrived at her house, there were small puddles of blood on her porch--this worried me so much.  I hurried in and there she sat at the dining room table--she looked so pitiful.  Her left forearm was badly skinned up (there was at least a 4 x 5" laceration), she was shaking, and she had a HUGE knot swelling up over her left eye.   She also said that her left hip was hurting quite a bit.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Greg, bless his soul, bandaged her arm up while I packed her things and we took them and the dog to our house.  Then we proceeded with mama to the emergency room.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;About 4 hours later we came back to our house.  Her hip is not broken (Thank God!!), but she is badly banged up.  What she thought was causing her to get dizzy and fall is not inner ear, but in fact may be a malfuction of her pacemaker.  She is on a holter monitor for 24 hours to see if we can figure out what is happening.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;She is so strong...I cannot believe all she has been through.  I only hope I can be as strong as she is when I am her age.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-646271818859554315?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/646271818859554315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=646271818859554315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/646271818859554315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/646271818859554315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-frail-they-are-harder-they-fall.html' title='The More Frail They Are, the Harder They Fall...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3782054143398827921</id><published>2008-09-18T08:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T08:36:46.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Purple Today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font color='#6600cc'&gt;I am purple today…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Purple is the color of sadness and passion mixed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Friday, Greg, David and I went to the fair.  While walking around under the grandstand, we stopped by McAfee’s Photography booth.  We saw some photographs of people’s little girls dressed as spring fairies and autumn fairies, lying in rapt attention on the bank of a pond or frolicking sweetly through fields of fallen leaves.  I don’t know why, but for some strange reason these photos struck my heart like a razor-edged chord that played the sweetest, saddest song I’d heard in some time.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I saw a little girl, MY little girl, fawn-haired, blue-green eyed, dressed like a precious fairy with a smile creeping across kewpie doll lips she got from her mama.  The tears overwhelmed me as if I had been picked up by the hair of my head and plunged into icy water.  I spoke to the lady from McAfee’s, mentioning how beautiful the fairy photos were.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;She smiled and said, “do you have a little girl?”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;God, that question was like an axe in my head.  I wanted to say, “no lady, I don’t have a little girl.  I want one, though, a beautiful little girl who looks just like a combination of me and her daddy, except I want her to be slim, willowy and graceful…I want her to be everything I never was.  I want her to be…damn it, I just want her to BE.  I just want HER.  I want to hold her and feel her smooth cheek against mine, smell the top of her little head, know I made this beautiful little thing.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I know I have students who care about me, but then they grow up and leave.  I’m NOT their mama; they don’t come crying to me when they fight with each other, they don’t need me when they are scared of the monster under the bed, they don’t need me to cry with them when their little hearts are broken, they don’t laugh and spin in my arms with joy because I am simply “mama.”  They don’t come home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays with their own babies on their hips.  I love them so, but eventually my students don’t need me anymore.  No matter how old you are, you always need your mama.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I walked from the photographer’s booth and made it a few steps before the tears really started to flow.  Greg asked what was wrong and I told him.  He grinned sheepishly and muttered something about “hormones.”  yeah, I’m sure that’s it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3782054143398827921?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3782054143398827921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3782054143398827921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3782054143398827921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3782054143398827921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-purple-today.html' title='I am Purple Today...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5025965540773421439</id><published>2008-09-16T02:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T02:59:02.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling All Angels...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img height='444' width='307' src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SM2wOtlOOKI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/dyzsMbHQ3qs/%5BUNSET%5D.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;' title='' alt=''/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class='lyrics'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;		&lt;h3 align='left'&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Train&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div align='left'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;		&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h1 align='left'&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Calling All Angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div align='left'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I need a sign to let me know you're here&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I need to know that things are gonna look up&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;When you can feel the world shake from the words that I said&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I won't give up if you don't give up &lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I won't give up if you don't give up &lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I won't give up if you don't give up &lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I won't give up if you don't give up &lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I need a sign to let me know you're here&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Cause my tv set just keeps it all from being clear&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I want a reason for the way things have to be&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;When children have to play inside so they don't disappear&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;While private eyes solve marriage lies cause we dont talk for years&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And football teams are kissing queens and losing sight of having dreams&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;In a world where all we want is only what we want untill it's ours&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;(I won't give up if you don't give up)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;And I'm calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;(I won't give up if you don't give up)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;(I won't give up if you don't give up)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;(I won't give up if you don't give up)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;Calling all you angels&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;	&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align='left'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;   &lt;br/&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align='left'&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align='left'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align='left'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;font face='trebuchet' color='#333399'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div align='left'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5025965540773421439?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5025965540773421439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5025965540773421439' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5025965540773421439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5025965540773421439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/09/calling-all-angels_9524.html' title='Calling All Angels...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SM2wOtlOOKI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/dyzsMbHQ3qs/s72-c/%5BUNSET%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2818846544160735627</id><published>2008-08-31T10:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T10:29:36.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Important Date Here at Our House...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Hi Everyone,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;If you happen to see my husband today, wish him a happy 42nd birthday!  That's right, as of 7:35 a.m. today he is 42 years old.  From now until October 30th, we will be the same age--then I become the "older woman" again--lol.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I surprised him with his gift yesterday...I baked him some dark chocolate brownie bites, bought him a card and a new DVR so that he can tape classic cartoons and great old movies on TCM in the middle of the night.  He was so tickled!!  We had a great evening--I just love him so much.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Not much else here, except my cold has been hanging on for over a week--I'm afraid it's going to turn into pneumonia.  May have to go to the doctor this week.  ugh.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Take care, and talk to you soon!&lt;br/&gt;Love,&lt;br/&gt;Charlotte&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2818846544160735627?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2818846544160735627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2818846544160735627' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2818846544160735627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2818846544160735627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/08/important-date-here-at-our-house.html' title='An Important Date Here at Our House...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4179541819684016376</id><published>2008-08-27T17:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T17:09:31.177-05:00</updated><title type='text'>School Starts for my Greg, and a Poem for this Wednesday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Greg just left a while ago for his first literature class in quite a while.  I'm so excited about him going to school!!! He will make such a wonderful teacher.  He is so kind, patient, and loving.  The students he works with now think so highly of him, and my students love him as well.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'm sharing a poem for this Wednesday--one of my favorites:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div align='center'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I Feel, I See, I Breathe You&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;by Emmanuel Emesakoru&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;(from poetryhunter.com)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;You're the first overwhelming feeling the engulfs me&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;When I wake up to behold the dawn that has come&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I feel you in the rays of light that seep in slowly&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;Through my curtain blinds, straight to my dimmed eyes&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I see you through the leaves that would always sway &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;And sometimes bow in awe of your stunning beauty&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I breathe you in the air that I inhale into my nose&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I feel, I see, I breathe you just to stay alive&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;And when I retire to my bed at night to think and sleep&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;My feelings untamed run deeper and deeper in my heart&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I feel you in my irregular rapid and violent heartbeats&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;You bring intense joy and satisfaction to my peaceful mind&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I see you, you are right there, up and high in the skies&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;The galaxies are but a reflection of your shiny pupils&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I breathe you in the sea breeze that brings so much warmth&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font color='#990000'&gt;I feel, I see, I breathe you, so don't take your breath away&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4179541819684016376?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4179541819684016376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4179541819684016376' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4179541819684016376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4179541819684016376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/08/school-starts-for-my-greg-and-poem-for.html' title='School Starts for my Greg, and a Poem for this Wednesday...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4030296881934699088</id><published>2008-08-24T08:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T08:34:45.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Head Colds, Grading Papers, and the Stepmom Blues...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;I have a head cold, which is a bummer because I am contagious and have to stay home tomorrow.  I also have to stay home to take my lil' mama to the doctor because she is having trouble walking; she fell about a month ago and has had some soreness ever since.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don't want to be away from my students, but I don't want to get them sick, either.  Especially with this gunk, as it may develop into bronchitis with them as it has done with me.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Being off sick will give me time to grade their autobiography papers (rough drafts).  The students were to write from the 1st person perspective of a cherished possession, and let that possession tell me about him/her.  For instance, an ipod could tell me what kind of music a student listens to, what kinds of moods they have, their friends, their style, etc.  I wanted to do something other than a tired old "I was born...." etc. paper.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My stepson has been here since Friday night, and he goes home this afternoon.  I haven't seen much of him since I have been sick, and I miss him already.  He brings so much life and fun into this house that we miss him during the week when he is away.  His vitality, his imagination, and his unconditional love are so refreshing that he completely changes the atmosphere wherever he is.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I can't wait until he comes back.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'm going to rest for a little while...take care.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4030296881934699088?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4030296881934699088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4030296881934699088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4030296881934699088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4030296881934699088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/08/head-colds-grading-papers-and-stepmom.html' title='Head Colds, Grading Papers, and the Stepmom Blues...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7530658181311242582</id><published>2008-08-23T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T11:58:59.567-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Saw Him Yesterday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I saw him yesterday afternoon...just in passing.  We barely spoke, which is not anything new for quite a while.  I suppose I was to feel honored he acknowledged me at all.  He has hardly spoken to me since the wedding--although he had a lot to say AT the wedding.  Could have been his half-drunken state then, though.  Can you imagine?  Half-drunk at 2 p.m., sulking around with that hangdog look on his face--ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided that incidents like that only make me realize how stupid I was back then, to be so hung up on someone who cared nothing about me.  Things are so different now that I can't imagine why I spent a single day waiting for anyone else to "see the light" and realize I was worth caring for.  Greg has made me feel beyond worthy from day one, and he shows me every day that he loves me and that I can count on him.  Every day we are more in love.  If he had not come into my life, what would I have had?  Where would I be?  Forty, Forty-five, Fifty...waiting for some dream that would never come true?  How sad my life would have been. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the song says it best:  "It's never love 'till you're loved in return/Some fools never learn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this fool learned her lesson, just in time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-7530658181311242582?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7530658181311242582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7530658181311242582' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7530658181311242582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7530658181311242582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-saw-him-yesterday.html' title='I Saw Him Yesterday...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-569796593656911288</id><published>2008-08-16T08:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T08:58:32.578-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee and Scones on a Saturday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Saturday morning, and all is well.  Greg is getting ready for work at the Pool Shoppe. I've been up since five or so.  I made scones and coffee for breakfast (which, for those who don't know, are triangle-shaped English biscuits).  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I've completed  my first week with my English II students, mostly 10th graders.  They are such wonderful students.  Like all teenagers, they love to talk, but nothing out of the ordinary.  I've only had to have assigned seats for one class so far, and they have until the end of the month to gain a reprieve.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It's so good to be back in the classroom!  My fellow teachers (well, those that are my friends and bother to talk to me) say that I am my "old self" again.  It's true; this year is so, so different from last year.  This time last year I was dealing with so many things:  yearbook, mama being sick, my being sick (although I didn't realize it)...this year yearbook is no longer my problem (YES!), mama is much better (thank you Jesus!!), and I have had an almost-complete recovery.  I am able to focus on my students and being a better teacher.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'm able to take care of things at work and at home now, and it's awesome.  This time last year, poor Greg had to work and then try to do the things I couldn't do.  Now I'm able to be the wife I promised to be, and we're just able to relax and enjoy each other.  He comes to my classroom to see me at least once during the school day (he works on the other side of the building), and the girls in my classes always giggle and go "awwww" over us and tell us how in love we look.  We can't hide it, I guess...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We've fallen into such a comfortable rhythm with our daily routines...morning coffee and breakfast together, riding to work, little moments during the day, our drive home, making dinner together, and lately spending the evening snuggled up watching TV and talking about this and that.  It's true that when you find the one you love them more as time goes on.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Well, time to tackle the mountain of laundry waiting for me in the sunroom.  Have a great weekend, all.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-569796593656911288?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/569796593656911288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=569796593656911288' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/569796593656911288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/569796593656911288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/08/coffee-and-scones-on-saturday.html' title='Coffee and Scones on a Saturday...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5092339068184116351</id><published>2008-07-30T10:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T10:36:56.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A bit of a rant...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Yesterday the hubby and I went to my classroom to try and get ready for the new school year.  The first day of school is Thursday, August 7th. I am so excited to start a new school year; I missed my students terribly while I was sick last year.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The last month that I was finally allowed to come back to school I spent most of my time dealing with the students and didn't pay much attention to the state of my classroom.  When I came back yesterday to get things in order, it made me sad to see the way some student treated my room while I was gone.  What has happened to respect for other people's property?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;There were wads of gum on the ceiling, faces drawn on the photos of my bulletin boards, pencils stuck in the ceiling, etc.  The most heartbreaking aspect, though, was the fact that students had stolen from me.  I had posters of Jimi Hendrix, John Lennon,  The Beatles, and Bob Marley on my walls at the beginning of the year; at the end of the year, they were nowhere to be found.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am not blaming all of my students; the majority of them were smart, sweet, courteous and wonderful.  It saddens me that there was a small, selfish, unthinking faction that did not care who they hurt, but just wanted to satisfy their own selfish wants and needs.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It may have been a form of "punishment" for me because I had substitutes in the room most of the year.  I would love to find the culprits and explain to them that it was never my intention to become ill and almost die--twice--and that I would much rather have been in the classroom with them.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'm replacing the posters, and hopefully my being there all year will keep it from happening again.  Problem is, the damage has already been done.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5092339068184116351?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5092339068184116351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5092339068184116351' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5092339068184116351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5092339068184116351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/07/bit-of-rant.html' title='A bit of a rant...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-8955571534254013710</id><published>2008-07-22T08:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T08:55:53.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some of my favorite quotes about teaching...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;As anyone who knows me knows, one of the biggest passions in my life is my work.  Over time, I have found &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;quotes about teaching, and decided since it was getting close to the new school year, I would post them here. I start with a quote of my own.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Just because I have the big desk doesn't mean I have all the answers." - Charlotte Ann Wooden-Hillis&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Good teachers are those who know how little they know. Bad teachers are&lt;br /&gt;those who think they know more than they don't know." - R. Verdi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;"Awaken people's curiosity. It is enough to open minds, do not&lt;br /&gt;      overload them. Put there just a spark." - Anatole France&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence&lt;br /&gt;stops." - Henry Brooks Adams&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A teacher is one who makes himself progressively unnecessary." -&lt;br /&gt;Thomas Carruthers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" A teacher who is attempting to teach, without inspiring the pupil&lt;br /&gt;      with a desire to learn, is hammering on a cold iron." - Horace Mann&lt;br /&gt;      (1796-1859)&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Education costs money, but then so does ignorance." - Sir Claus Moser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Education...is a painful, continual and difficult work to be done in&lt;br /&gt;      kindness, by watching, by warning,... by praise, but above all -- by&lt;br /&gt;      example." - John Ruskin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one." -&lt;br /&gt;Malcolm Forbes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Education should turn out the pupil with something he knows well and&lt;br /&gt;      something he can do well." - Alfred North Whitehead&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Getting things done is not always what is most important. There is value&lt;br /&gt;in allowing others to learn, even if the task is not accomplished as quickly,&lt;br /&gt;efficiently or effectively." - R.D. Clyde&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good teaching is more a giving of right questions than a giving of&lt;br /&gt;      right answers." -  Josef Albers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"I cannot teach anybody anything, I can only make them think." -&lt;br /&gt;Socrates&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If the child is not learning the way you are teaching, then you must&lt;br /&gt;      teach in the way the child learns" - Rita Dunn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If what you're doing isn't working, try something else!" - NLP adage &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I may have said the same thing before... but my explanation, I am sure,&lt;br /&gt;will always be different." - Oscar Wilde&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I put the relation of a fine teacher to a student just below the&lt;br /&gt;      relation of a mother to a son." - Thomas Wolfe&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"It is important that students bring a certain ragamuffin, barefoot,&lt;br /&gt;irreverence to their studies; they are not here to worship what is known, but to&lt;br /&gt;question it." - J. Bronowski, The Ascent of Man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative&lt;br /&gt;      expression and knowledge." - Albert Einstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Learning is finding out what you already know.  Doing is&lt;br /&gt;demonstrating that you know it.  Teaching is reminding others that they&lt;br /&gt;know it just as well as you.  You are all learners, doers, teachers" -&lt;br /&gt;Richard Bach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Men learn while they teach." - Lucius A. Seneca&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"No matter how good teaching may be, each student must take the&lt;br /&gt;      responsibility for his own education." - John Carolus S. J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"People's behavior makes sense if you think about it in terms of&lt;br /&gt;      their goals, needs, and motives." - Thomas Mann&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Praise, like gold and diamonds, owes its values only to its&lt;br /&gt;      scarcity." - Samuel Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Spoonfeeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of&lt;br /&gt;      the spoon" - E. M. Forster&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Teachers should guide without dictating, and participate without&lt;br /&gt;      dominating." - C.B. Neblette&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Teach your children by what you are, not just by what you say" - Jane&lt;br /&gt;Revell &amp;amp; Susan Norman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The authority of those who teach is often an obstacle to those who want to&lt;br /&gt;learn." - Cicero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The basic idea behind teaching is to teach people what they need to&lt;br /&gt;      know." - Carl Rogers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than dogmatizes, and&lt;br /&gt;inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself." - Edward&lt;br /&gt;Bulwer-Lytton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The job of an educator is to teach students to see the vitality in&lt;br /&gt;      themselves." - Joseph Campbell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be&lt;br /&gt;      ignited." - Plutarch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"There are no difficult students - just students who don't want to do it&lt;br /&gt;your way" - Jane Revell &amp;amp; Susan Norman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house&lt;br /&gt;      of his wisdom&lt;br /&gt;      but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." - Kahlil Gibran&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"To define is to destroy, to suggest is to create." - Stephane&lt;br /&gt;      Mallarme&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"To me the sole hope of human salvation lies in teaching." -&lt;br /&gt;      George Bernard Shaw&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"To teach is to learn twice." - Joseph Joubert&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"Try to present at least three options.  One is no choice at&lt;br /&gt;all.  Two creates a dilemma.  With three you begin to have real choice&lt;br /&gt;and flexibility" - Jane Revell &amp;amp; Susan Norman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We think too much about effective methods of teaching and not enough&lt;br /&gt;      about effective methods of learning." - John Carolus S. J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;"What we want is to see the child in pursuit of knowledge, and not&lt;br /&gt;knowledge in pursuit of the child." - George Bernard Shaw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who dares to teach must never cease to learn." - John Cotton Dana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You cannot teach a man anything; you can only help him find it&lt;br /&gt;      within himself." - Galielo  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;font color='#000099'&gt;My greatest wish is to be able to tell each and every student I've had how much they mean to me, and how much they have taught me.  Teaching is one of the greatest blessings of my life, and even when it is stressful, scary and frenetic I love every second of it.  Here's to a new school year, and to a long life of learning for us all.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;Take care,&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;Charlotte&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font face='georgia' color='#3333ff'&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-8955571534254013710?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/8955571534254013710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=8955571534254013710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/8955571534254013710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/8955571534254013710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/07/some-of-my-favorite-quotes-about.html' title='Some of my favorite quotes about teaching...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-1593251471005435776</id><published>2008-07-12T06:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T06:19:57.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Timeless Summer Songs...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;font color='#000099'&gt;I love music of all kinds--everything from ambient to zydeco (ha! found an a-z for that one!).  I was lamenting the fact that most of the music I grew up on is now played on the "oldies" channels when I decided to take a more positive spin on things and list the songs that remind me of summer that I could listen to over and over.  So here goes, folks--by the way, I started to link them to sound clips, but I'm not great at that stuff, so if you're interested enough, you'll find them:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color='#000099'&gt;1.  "Summer Breeze"--Seals and Crofts--To me, one of the most perfectly crafted pop songs ever, period.  Sweet melody, with lyrics that celebrate the joys of a simple life--a nice little house and the one you love.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;2.  "Fire and Rain"--James Taylor--One of the classic vocal performances of all-time, and a song that makes you feel mellow, sad, nostalgic, and content all at once.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;3.  "Pictures of You"--The Cure--A beautiful song that means something to anyone who has ever loved and lost, which would be all of us.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;4.  "Sultans of Swing"--Dire Straits--Mark Knopfler's guitar at its best, with lyrics and music that paint a picture of life as a working-class band.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;5.  "Baker Street"--Gerry Rafferty--Without a doubt, the single greatest sax performance in a pop song ever.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;6.  "American Pie"--Don McClean--You've heard it, you secretly know the words, you secretly love it.  Sing it proudly.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;7.  "Can't Find My Way Home"--Blind Faith--Smooth and heartbreaking, this is a song that brings rock'n'roll to a spiritual level.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;8.  "Side"--Travis--Cross the faith and optimism of U2 with the style of Radiohead and you have Travis.  This song explores the concepts of mortality, faith, ethics, and envy in a little over three amazing minutes.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;9.  "Dear Prudence"--The Beatles--One of the band's best songs, in that it combines the romanticism of the early work with the artistry of the later work.  Breezy, sweet, and beautiful with a darn good beat.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;10.  "She Drives Me Crazy"--Fine Young Cannibals--Roland Gift and Co. take the simplest (and most perplexing) of feelings and summed them up in a song that is still easy to dance to after all these years.  Oh, and it's a great driving song.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now, this list is my opinion, and by no means complete.  If anyone has any contributions, please comment. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Take care, all&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-1593251471005435776?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/1593251471005435776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=1593251471005435776' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/1593251471005435776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/1593251471005435776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/07/timeless-summer-songs_12.html' title='Timeless Summer Songs...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3257713799845358049</id><published>2008-07-05T21:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T21:59:58.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shots from the 5th Parade...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;a href='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SHAkCdkTSpI/AAAAAAAAAGA/CwnBZV8-5AU/s1600-h/SL730139.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; clear: both; float: left;' alt='' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SHAkCdkTSpI/AAAAAAAAAGA/CwnBZV8-5AU/s160/SL730139.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;span style='color: rgb(0, 153, 0);'&gt;Here's my Greg and me on our porch; our little guy took the photo--not bad, huh?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAnyspcJJI/AAAAAAAAAHY/IQZiGMdXl_I/s144/SL730141.jpg'/&gt;  Speaking of the little guy, here he is with his daddy.... =)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHApZCcqxiI/AAAAAAAAAIU/AdbxHW6yxy0/s144/SL730144.jpg'/&gt;   Here's our front porch...I love our little house. It makes me proud when people stop and admire our herbs and flowers on the porch.  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHApYGKlgSI/AAAAAAAAAIM/C_8tYe5jeiw/s144/SL730143.jpg'/&gt;Here's the parade route to the left of our house, and &lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAnzpe6_TI/AAAAAAAAAHw/phYabU_OhOM/s144/SL730142.jpg'/&gt; here's the route to the right of our house.  We had a great view of everything this year!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;There were a lot of cool entries in the parade this year, but my favorite were these guys:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh5.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHApZ6m5O9I/AAAAAAAAAIs/6Pky4S-yiv0/s144/SL730156.jpg'/&gt;  There was a man there with these brown sheep, and he brought his partner, a black and white sheepdog:  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAqmx1UZeI/AAAAAAAAAI4/2GOO9VGvuQ4/s144/SL730158.jpg'/&gt;  He did a great job keeping the sheep in line--I finally got a shot of him at work:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAqnQARAmI/AAAAAAAAAJA/QBmRpmpRofI/s144/SL730159.jpg' style='width: 144px; height: 108px;'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHApZf9ibZI/AAAAAAAAAIc/EBEaKbP8oQ4/s144/SL730146.jpg'/&gt;Here's one of the antique fire engines that were in the parade...&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAsr1G4RqI/AAAAAAAAAKg/G_OJylAoZXA/s144/SL730185.jpg'/&gt; here's a shot of an even older one.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I saw several students and former students today--it was great.  See this bull? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAqoPJFvLI/AAAAAAAAAJY/V-qrZDk5Ygs/s144/SL730166.jpg'/&gt;  As he rolled past my porch, I heard him bellow, "C-Woo!" (my nickname)  Turns out, Cody Walker (a student from two years ago) was the "innards" of the bull!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In addition to current and former students, I met a big group of future students from the Morrison community--&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAqoACvgfI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/DAwtHPsqrzU/s144/SL730165.jpg'/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The majority of the parade consisted of classic cars and trucks--here are some shots:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div style='clear: both; text-align: left;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img border='0' align='middle' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHArm64PDUI/AAAAAAAAAJk/IZSwSg8DO5o/s144/SL730172.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHArnrPd05I/AAAAAAAAAJs/Z_h04XQBLxE/s144/SL730175.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAroXixJMI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/hOtApr-JCJc/s144/SL730176.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHArobBwejI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/Y7rH_3DWUpE/s144/SL730177.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHArolZndDI/AAAAAAAAAKE/VqGcJqM5jAk/s144/SL730178.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAsrKgLjfI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/0QqaMlEJGVQ/s144/SL730179.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh4.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAsruK9BBI/AAAAAAAAAKY/kVdBWZm8cTI/s144/SL730180.jpg'/&gt;&lt;img style='width: 144px; height: 108px;' src='http://lh3.ggpht.com/Charlotte.Hillis/SHAqnto4BOI/AAAAAAAAAJI/dzuadV5EUl0/s144/SL730163.jpg'/&gt;&lt;/a&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/1535228277234234617-3257713799845358049?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3257713799845358049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3257713799845358049' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3257713799845358049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3257713799845358049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/07/shots-from-5th-parade_05.html' title='Shots from the 5th Parade...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SHAkCdkTSpI/AAAAAAAAAGA/CwnBZV8-5AU/s72-c/SL730139.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-457553777527304358</id><published>2008-07-05T10:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T10:08:21.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The 4th on the 5th...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;Hello Everyone,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Happy 4th on the 5th!  While we still observed the Independence Day holiday yesterday here in Warren County, Tennessee, we moved the majority of the festivities to today. The reason? This is the year we also celebrate Warren County's Bicentennial.  There are many activities scheduled for today, including a parade that will be going right down my street!  We are pretty jazzed about that, needless to say.  I'll post photos from the parade as soon as I can.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I've spent the morning watering/feeding plants and hanging out with my (step)son while Greg is working.  The garden is going fairly well--we have tons of cucumbers right now, and the tomatoes are coming along nicely.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Greg has decided that the best way to celebrate the nation's independence is with some sushi for lunch--sounds good to me.   &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Tonight there's fireworks--I'm anxious to try the settings on my camera.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Take care all,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Charlotte&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-457553777527304358?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/457553777527304358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=457553777527304358' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/457553777527304358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/457553777527304358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/07/4th-on-5th.html' title='The 4th on the 5th...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3822082176879927502</id><published>2008-06-21T11:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T11:49:28.965-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Reason I Waited Until I Was Forty-One to Get Married...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.fliggo.com/embed/NTtenBNg"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="opaque"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.fliggo.com/embed/NTtenBNg" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="opaque" allowscriptaccess="always" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div&gt;This video is a summary of all the reasons I believe everyone should wait until they are in their 40s to get married...live, travel, learn, laugh, grow, love, become a whole person, and THEN tie the knot.  Just my opinion..please hold the hate mail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fliggo.com/video/NTtenBNg"&gt;The Sad Truth About Relationships&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3822082176879927502?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3822082176879927502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3822082176879927502' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3822082176879927502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3822082176879927502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/06/reason-i-waited-until-i-was-forty-one.html' title='The Reason I Waited Until I Was Forty-One to Get Married...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-4682367978338259260</id><published>2008-06-17T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T18:24:45.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hero Worship, Health Update, and Hallelujah!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SFhFJSwdBTI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iItlCXvasrE/s1600-h/SL730101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SFhFJSwdBTI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iItlCXvasrE/s200/SL730101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212992594637554994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Nothing like a man with a guitar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my Greg at our church hayride and picnic last week...he's been playing since he was about twelve or so, and also plays the piano and sings.  It's like having my very own Elvis...*sigh*...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's truly my hero in so many ways.  In our first year of marriage he has shown me so much love and done more for me than any woman could ever ask for.  He has nursed me through so much sickness, dressed wounds, bathed me, dressed me, held my hand when the doctors had to draw blood, rocked me to sleep when I couldn't go to sleep on my own, kissed my forehead when I had horrible fevers, and told me I was beautiful when I looked like dookie on a cracker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even before that, he was a true romantic.  Not hearts and flowers romance, but real-life romance, the kind that matters.  I've only washed dishes once since we were married a year ago--every morning Greg gets up at 5 a.m., washes dishes, makes the coffee, then comes and kisses me awake.  I never have to put gas in my car; he takes the car and fills it up whenever it needs  it.  He holds the door open for me, carries packages, pulls out my chair, helps cook dinner (or many times cooks it all himself), and helps with the laundry.  He's my angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough gushing...lol...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the health front, the orthopod says I have what is known as adhesive capsulitis, or frozen shoulder, on both sides of my body.  It is going to take lots of exercise and physical therapy to resolve, but luckily no surgery.  I'm incredibly sore right now, but at least I don't have to go to the hospital again...thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally....Hallelujah! The groundhog problem has resolved, thanks to Greg and his pellet gun.  It was a male, no babies in sight (we found the burrow), and the garden is safe once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone's enjoying the summer...take care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-4682367978338259260?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/4682367978338259260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=4682367978338259260' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4682367978338259260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/4682367978338259260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/06/hero-worship-health-update-and.html' title='Hero Worship, Health Update, and Hallelujah!'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SFhFJSwdBTI/AAAAAAAAAFI/iItlCXvasrE/s72-c/SL730101.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7605908871052796911</id><published>2008-06-02T12:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T12:30:02.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Summer Job? Wildlife Feeder...grrrrrr.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;There's a groundhog loose in my garden.  The little sucker has nibbled off the leaves on 2 rows of green beans, 1/2 a row of bok choy, and now he's eyeing the cucumbers.  I can't catch him--I've only seen him once, waddling off, his little fat butt merrily headed toward his burrow.  If I get the chance, I will kill him.  Me, Ms. "Friend of the Fuzzies," will squeeze the life out of him with my bare hands if I get the chance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;No one told me I was growing a garden to feed him...I didn't know this at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Thank God he doesn't seem to enjoy arugula, leaf lettuce, or tomatoes.  If he gets into my tomatoes, he will get a can of whoopass like he's never seen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Let this be known--I have declared war on Sr. Groundhog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-7605908871052796911?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7605908871052796911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7605908871052796911' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7605908871052796911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7605908871052796911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-summer-job-wildlife-feedergrrrrrr.html' title='My Summer Job? Wildlife Feeder...grrrrrr.....'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5423963338500659844</id><published>2008-05-21T07:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T07:41:09.707-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Day...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;There are some days in your life you remember right away because they are milestone days--birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, births, deaths--and then there are smaller days that creep into your mind at unexpected times but are just as important.  Yesterday was one of those days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;David is here while his mom recovers from giving birth to baby Nika, and we spent the afternoon in our garden--our own little patch of heaven.  Greg tilled the remainder of the soil so we could plant, while David and I sat on the porch in the swing.  Correction:  I sat in the swing while David played a game of cat-and-mouse (cat-and-boy?) with Kitty Puss.  I could hear David squeal with delight as Kitty Puss chased him around the entire house; David was having the time of his life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Then when the tilling was finished, the four of us planted tomato plants, including the pitiful little plants we raised from seeds.  We also planted catnip, sunflowers, pepper plants, and canteloupe.  We had such fun!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Afterwards we grilled out, watched a movie, then finally all snuggled into bed...the perfect ending to a great day.  We were a family, a REAL family, something I've waited for all my life.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Yesterday was a day that will stay with me forever because of the love.  I never thought I'd find such a love. Thank God I was wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5423963338500659844?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5423963338500659844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5423963338500659844' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5423963338500659844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5423963338500659844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/05/great-day.html' title='Great Day...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-9200375215288215433</id><published>2008-05-01T10:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T10:54:26.634-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Excrutiating...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#66cccc;"&gt;Today is awful...the clock has slowed to a stop.  I am still at the adult high school, and the students are down to the wire on their work.  They are either silently working or running their mouths about absolutely nothing, which is driving me crazy.  There are several left who are supposed to get their work done by Friday (TOMORROW!!!!) in order to graduate, but they don't seem to give a flip.  What they are thinking, I have no idea.  Do they live in a parallel universe?  Do they think there is a "schoolwork fairy" that is going to do this work for them?  Arrrrrghhhh!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#66cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#66cccc;"&gt;One girl talked (bragged, more like it) about getting in a fight with her boss and cursing her over something silly.  Why do some young people think they have the right to say whatever they are thinking?  Do they think that they are going to get ahead in this world with that attitude?  What has happened to respect in this world?  God, I sound so old!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#66cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#66cccc;"&gt;Please let this day end soon...I want to go home to my hubby and Kitty Puss and finish my laundry and cook and be happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-9200375215288215433?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/9200375215288215433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=9200375215288215433' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/9200375215288215433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/9200375215288215433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/05/excrutiating.html' title='Excrutiating...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3971293455868062438</id><published>2008-04-28T13:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T13:50:47.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Can't Wait...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I can't wait for summer vacation to arrive...I love my work, but it seems that summer is all I think about these days.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;First of all, while I am working, it is not in my "natural habitat."  I am working at the adult high school instead of my regular classroom right now, helping some seniors catch up on their credits so that they can graduate.  Ms. Sherry G., a dear friend and former colleague of mine at the high school, has taken over my classes until the end of testing.  The administration decided (and rightfully so) to leave her with my classes until the testing was over.  I didn't blame them; after all, I have had two horrible health scares this year, and who knows when it might happen again.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;Some of the kids here are very conscientious and try very hard to get their work done.  Some spend most of their time talking and worrying about partying rather than working.  It's a real shame--I partied when I was in school a bit, but I still managed to finish high school successfully.  You have to have balance, man...if you can't balance work and play, then give up the play.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I miss my 10th graders terribly...they are the perfect age to teach.  I've taught all four grade levels of high school, from special ed classes to Advanced Placement classes, and all grades have their positive points.  I've learned, however, that 10th graders are definitely my favorites.  9th Graders are still too "twitchy" and that first flood of hormones has just kicked in...they are all arms and legs and have no idea how to deal with anything going on around them, much less inside their own bodies.  11th graders are okay, but have developed some sort of brain deficiency that makes them want to do things even a 4-year-old would balk at.  Seniors are cool, but senioritis kicks in and they don't want to do ANYTHING once class rank is posted (or they receive their acceptance letters from college).  10th graders are the perfect balance of child and adult...they respect you enough to listen (at least most of them), they still have a bit of that eagerness to please, yet they have developed a somewhat sophisticated sense of humor.  They are great fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I'll have about 2 weeks with my "babies" back in my classroom before I break for the summer...and then what a summer it will be.  Graduate school online, needlework, reading, gardening, daytrips with my hubby, canning, playing with my stepson...I can't wait.  Have I mentioned that already?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3971293455868062438?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3971293455868062438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3971293455868062438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3971293455868062438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3971293455868062438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-cant-wait.html' title='I Can&apos;t Wait...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2928957428338963177</id><published>2008-04-25T10:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T10:29:57.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been gone so long...</title><content type='html'>I doubt anyone even reads this thing anymore.  It's been a wild, wild time since October of '07...well, since September of '07, actually. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama had seven cardiac bypasses on 9/11/07, but came through like a trooper.  She spent 10 days in the hospital, two weeks in the nursing home, and one week with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In October, I began having back/abdomen pains...nothing serious (or so I thought), just a strained muscle.  The last week of October the doctor ordered a ct scan and they found gallstones.  A trip to the surgeon Halloween night was almost too late...November 1st called for emergency surgery to remove a ruptured gallbladder, a cyst, and to remove gangrene which had set in.  Two more days and there would have been no more me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven days on a ventilator in ICU and five more days in regular room followed.  I went home to recuperate, and went back to work on January 7th.  Thing was, my incisions had not healed...my wonderful husband was still playing nurse and packing wounds.  By the middle of February they still had not healed.  Another trip to the doctor followed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was found that part of the incision went straight into my abdominal cavity (this is called a fistula), and each time I ate or drank it would cause more damage/drainage.  The doctor ordered TPN, which is nutrition through a catheter that goes straight into your bloodstream, with nothing to eat or drink--that way, the wounds would heal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a diabetic, the TPN solution sent my sugar level to 600 or higher--this, along with a staph infection and high fever, caused me to go out of my mind with delusions.  While in the hospital, I tried to "rescue" people from the television, I was terrified the bed was going to swallow me alive, and I was convinced there was some sort of terrorist conspiracy involving (get this) people emailing me their urine.  I kept whispering to my husband, "honey, don't accept any packages."  Jeez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and on top of the staph infection, I developed pneumonia and a blood clot in my lung.  Not a fun two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To face death twice in one year--no picnic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But finally the fever broke, the infection dissipated, and I went back to normal (a relative term if there ever was one).  Thank God.  I still have to take Coumadin for the blood problem, but I'm on my way back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things at Our House are finally getting back to normal.  I have some upper arm pain that has not stopped yet (muscular in nature), but it is better.  I cook, clean, and do a bit of work in the garden. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of garden, Greg and I are in gardening heaven.  We have tilled up a big spot in our yard and have planted bok choy, lettuce, arugula, beets, radishes, strawberry plants, onions, and (eventually) tomatoes and string beans.  We have over 60 tomato plants started, as well as some flowers and several herbs.  I love to play in the dirt and watch everything grow...it reminds me of when I was a little girl helping Ma-Maw and Pa-Paw with the garden while Mama was at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, a big part of the garden is Kitty Puss' personal giant litter box/playground.  I'll post a picture of him soon--he's our adopted cat who lived in the neighborhood before he lived with us.  He's sweet and so funny.  He loves to roll around in the dirt on his back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's pretty good at Our House right now.  I couldn't ask for more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2928957428338963177?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2928957428338963177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2928957428338963177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2928957428338963177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2928957428338963177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2008/04/ive-been-gone-so-long.html' title='I&apos;ve been gone so long...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7239623618742190294</id><published>2007-08-29T20:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T20:11:17.848-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update...</title><content type='html'>Hi,&lt;br /&gt;I know I haven't been around for a while...so much has happened, and yet we're still playing a "waiting game."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, around the 17th or so, I started getting symptoms of what I thought was just a cold, or maybe my allergies acting up.  I took some OTC allery medicine, some cold medicine, and kept thinking it would go away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the 23rd, my chest was so congested I could barely breathe...I had to sleep sitting up, and I was miserable.  The next day, I went to the doctor:  pneumonia, and a fever of 103.  I've been on antibiotics, etc. since then, but I'm still so congested that my lungs sound like a pipe organ. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor gave me orders to stay out of work until September 4th.  This actually worked out okay, because I had to be with my mom for her surgery on the 28th (Tuesday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday (27th) I took her to St. Thomas hospital in Nashville to see her surgeon and have her admitted.  Turns out, her blood work showed that her creatinine level was up, and the surgeon said that if she had the bypass then she would more than likely go into kidney failure and require dialysis for the rest of her life.  The surgery has been put off until next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am out of days at work, and I have had to take a family medical leave to get well and to take care of my mama.  I miss my students more than I ever dreamed I would.  I know they are not my real kids, but it is still very hard to be away from them all for this long.  I miss being in the classroom.  I miss talking to them.  I miss seeing their smiles, hearing them laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my lil' Mama would say, I'm feeling so low I have to look up to see the ground.  You can really tell I'm having a hard time when the WMP playlist is full of Joy Division, Belle and Sebastian, The Cure, and The Cocteau Twins...lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough whining for now...sorry about that.  I just have to be strong so much of the time, and it feels good to have a place to "let go of it all" for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone is doing well.&lt;br /&gt;Take care,&lt;br /&gt;Charlotte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-7239623618742190294?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7239623618742190294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7239623618742190294' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7239623618742190294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7239623618742190294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/08/update.html' title='Update...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-3888798405073350791</id><published>2007-08-18T06:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-18T07:03:12.072-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting ready for Monday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RsbfltrWWNI/AAAAAAAAADs/72o9Byos-2I/s1600-h/55.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100009467053234386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RsbfltrWWNI/AAAAAAAAADs/72o9Byos-2I/s320/55.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made preparations yesterday for Mama's big day. I hadn't talked about it here because frankly I just hadn't had time. It's a scary, but hopeful day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Back last week, Mama had been feeling more and more short of breath. I know when it's coming when she says, "the air is getting thicker." I took her to the doctor, and they referred us to the Heart Group, where she's been going for the last seven years. The cardiologist ordered an arteriogram be done at St. Thomas Hospital in Nashville, so we went on Tuesday, the 7th. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Greg and I took her for the procedure at 6:30 that morning, and they wound up keeping her for 3 days. The doctors first decided that there was almost nothing they could do--based on the arteriogram and the films, she had 3 major and 1 minor arterial blockages, and over 80% of her heart muscle was "dead," and that bypass surgery was a moot point. They had decided to put in a defibrillator and send her home. We cried a thousand tears and said a thousand prayers in that hospital room, Mama and I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, a miracle happened...a diminutive, kind-faced man with curly hair and a soft voice came in to see Mama right before dinner time Thursday evening. His name was Dr. Chomsky, and he was a specialist in cardiac failure. He told us that he could not approve the defibrillator with a clear conscience without mama having a cardiac MRI first. He said that there had not been a complete scan of her heart done, and there was no way anyone could see how viable her heart muscle was until that was done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, they sent Mama home for the weekend, I went back to work on Monday the 13th, and my dear in-laws took mama for her MRI. The very next day, we received the news that we had prayed for: MAMA WAS A CANDIDATE FOR THE BYPASS SURGERY!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miracles do still happen.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, mama goes back Monday the 20th for her pre-surgical consult, and we see what happens from there.  All I know is we have a chance; that's all we're asking for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-3888798405073350791?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/3888798405073350791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=3888798405073350791' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3888798405073350791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/3888798405073350791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/08/getting-ready-for-monday.html' title='Getting ready for Monday...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RsbfltrWWNI/AAAAAAAAADs/72o9Byos-2I/s72-c/55.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5981840934514120534</id><published>2007-07-31T18:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T18:39:36.912-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing a Favorite Poem by Neruda</title><content type='html'>I have decided that I am going to start posting an occasional favorite poem on my blog.  I used to write my own poetry, "back in the day," as my students say.  While I was never on the same level as my favorite poets by any means, I could write a decent line or two once in a while.  However, it seems my muse has gone into permanent hibernation.  The reason?  I'm happy.  I have always believed that most great art has to come from sorrow, despair, addiction, mental illness, or some other driving influence.  When the artist/author/composer is content, the art suffers.  When I was searching for meaning in my life, when I was heartbroken, when I felt my life was incomplete, I could write halfway decent poetry.  Now, I couldn't do it if my life depended on it. &lt;br /&gt;I could care less.  Let the muse sleep the rest of my days.  I'll revel in other people's words, and be content with my new life.  It's more than a fair trade, to be sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XVII (I do not love you...)    &lt;br /&gt;by Pablo Neruda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,&lt;br /&gt;or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.&lt;br /&gt;I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,&lt;br /&gt;in secret, between the shadow and the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you as the plant that never blooms&lt;br /&gt;but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;&lt;br /&gt;thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,&lt;br /&gt;risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.&lt;br /&gt;I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;&lt;br /&gt;so I love you because I know no other way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;than this: where I does not exist, nor you,&lt;br /&gt;so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,&lt;br /&gt;so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Translated by Stephen Tapscott&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5981840934514120534?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5981840934514120534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5981840934514120534' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5981840934514120534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5981840934514120534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/07/sharing-favorite-poem-by-neruda.html' title='Sharing a Favorite Poem by Neruda'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-6927738897787760695</id><published>2007-07-27T11:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T11:21:59.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things are fine at Chateau Hillis...</title><content type='html'>Great news...Greg passed his CDL (Commercial Driver's License) driving test yesterday!!!  I am soooo proud of him!  Now he can get a route with Pepsi when one comes open.  He passed both parts (written and driving) on the first try; apparently, not many people do that.  My Baby is so smart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting stuff ready for school to start...getting my lesson plans ready, trying to "get all my ducks in a row" (I love that saying--I just picture a big bunch of cute little yellow rubber ducks all lined up, quacking like crazy--lol), so that when graduate school starts I'll be able to handle it better.  I received word that my Masters credits are going to cover 12 of my PhD electives, so I'll only have to take one elective, along with my specialization and core courses.  Not bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also cherishing every second of what's left of summer break.  Not because I don't want to go back to work (I miss it), but because I'll miss these lazy summer days, hanging out on the porch, being with my lil' guy and Greg in the afternoons, having lunch with my lil' Mama, and naps...man, do I love naps!&lt;br /&gt;Take care, y'all,&lt;br /&gt;Charlotte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-6927738897787760695?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/6927738897787760695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=6927738897787760695' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6927738897787760695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6927738897787760695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/07/things-are-fine-at-chateau-hillis.html' title='Things are fine at Chateau Hillis...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-7973150667543966154</id><published>2007-07-14T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T09:17:26.387-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Continuing Education this Summer...</title><content type='html'>This summer has been quite educational for me so far.  I have gained several important skills as a brand-new stepmother.  These include:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  The ability to distinguish the difference between Picachu, Squirtle, Charizard, and various other forms of Pokemon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  The ability to eyeball the amount of chocolate syrup needed for preparing the perfect glass of chocolate milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  The ability to remove peanut butter stains from almost any surface known to man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  The ability to know the exact location of any object an 8-year-old may have lost in the house.  I just "know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  The ability to fix any ailment with a soothing word, a kiss, and a Spiderman bandaid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  The ability to create ramen noodles or Kraft mac'n'cheese in record time when an 8-year-old decides (in the blink of an eye) that he will perish if he does not eat immediately (even though he said he wasn't hungry five minutes earlier).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  The ability to distinguish between each type of fast-food chicken nuggets sold in town with my nose plugged and my eyes covered, simply because I've eaten the remnants of them all a MILLION TIMES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  The ability to recite the show schedule for Nickelodeon, The Cartoon Network, and Boomerang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  The ability to create couch-pillow forts that rival the Taj Mahal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  The ability to successfully color in a coloring book upside down and from the opposite angle than normal, because the little guy is coloring in the same book across the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These skills may not look good on a resume, but I've had a blast learning them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OH, before I forget, I have developed one inability--namely, the inability to say "no" to a certain eight-year-old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-7973150667543966154?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/7973150667543966154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=7973150667543966154' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7973150667543966154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/7973150667543966154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-continuing-education-this-summer.html' title='My Continuing Education this Summer...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2388129953757167089</id><published>2007-07-05T18:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:25:19.295-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Photos...</title><content type='html'>After wrestling the album from my mama and my in-laws, I finally am able to post my favorite wedding photos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro174jQf7dI/AAAAAAAAACI/ihh65Ued_EY/s1600-h/13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro174jQf7dI/AAAAAAAAACI/ihh65Ued_EY/s320/13.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083855765838491090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You may now kiss the bride..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro18KTQf7eI/AAAAAAAAACQ/EXlsLRrP5BE/s1600-h/20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro18KTQf7eI/AAAAAAAAACQ/EXlsLRrP5BE/s320/20.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083856070781169122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to cut the cake...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro18bDQf7fI/AAAAAAAAACY/kr3084Nscwg/s1600-h/42.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro18bDQf7fI/AAAAAAAAACY/kr3084Nscwg/s320/42.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083856358543977970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Headed to the Smokies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro18yTQf7gI/AAAAAAAAACg/sruFJIijkJY/s1600-h/52.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro18yTQf7gI/AAAAAAAAACg/sruFJIijkJY/s320/52.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083856757975936514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Wedding Party...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro19LDQf7hI/AAAAAAAAACo/mMeT4QwbaOo/s1600-h/44.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro19LDQf7hI/AAAAAAAAACo/mMeT4QwbaOo/s320/44.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083857183177698834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first photo as man and wife...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro19gDQf7iI/AAAAAAAAACw/AQJO6ZjFO-c/s1600-h/80.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro19gDQf7iI/AAAAAAAAACw/AQJO6ZjFO-c/s320/80.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083857543954951714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite photo, just because it is so "us"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good weekend, everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2388129953757167089?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2388129953757167089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2388129953757167089' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2388129953757167089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2388129953757167089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/07/wedding-photos.html' title='Wedding Photos...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/Ro174jQf7dI/AAAAAAAAACI/ihh65Ued_EY/s72-c/13.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-510528178255383533</id><published>2007-07-03T18:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T18:44:21.867-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things to do that Celebrate Summer...</title><content type='html'>There are some things that I can only do in summer, and because of that these are treasured memories the rest of the year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Making dinner out of nothing but fresh corn on the cob and sliced ripe garden tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Gathering day lilies on the side of a country road and placing them in a vase for the kitchen table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Going with my boys to the drive-in in a pick-up truck, sitting in the truck bed to watch a double feature with cold sodas and lots of popcorn in greasy brown paper bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Sitting on my porch swing in the dark, listening to the music of the cicadas and tracing the glow of the lightning bugs across the lawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Taking my rod and reel and "drowning a worm" for a few hours on a riverbank somewhere, eating peanut butter sandwiches and drinking cold cokes, not even caring if I catch anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Going to the outdoor flea market in Crossville, wandering around the hundreds of booths under the trees, marveling at the things people will buy/sell, and trying to figure out what some things are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Shopping at the Farmers Market on Saturday mornings for fresh vegetables, honey in mason jars with the golden comb floating inside, fresh warm bread made by Mennonite women with work-worn hands and sweet smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Going down the street to the dam with our little guy to go wading out on the rocks, watching him have a ball out in the cold, clear water that's been running since before any of us can remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  Concerts on the lawn of the local Savings &amp; Loan, running into people I haven't seen in months, buying hotdogs from the man with the cart, clog dancing on the sidewalk even if I can't dance well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  Heading to the local ballfields with the rest of the town to see the fireworks on the 4th.  This year, it will be even better; I'll be watching the fireworks reflected in the eyes of my husband and son.  A new summer tradition--possibly the best ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 4th Everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlotte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-510528178255383533?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/510528178255383533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=510528178255383533' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/510528178255383533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/510528178255383533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/07/things-to-do-that-celebrate-summer.html' title='Things to do that Celebrate Summer...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-82374912174258153</id><published>2007-06-26T06:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T07:10:16.143-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just stuff...</title><content type='html'>Things are going well...Greg has been hired full-time by the bottling plant, so that means benefits and more pay.  He was practically full time anyway, but now he'll get the full rewards for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went yesterday and took his CDL permit test--passed on the first try!  I am so proud of him.  A lot of his buddies at the plant had to take it 3 times or more to pass, but not my Baby...hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little guy has been here since last Friday.  He's up with his MeMaw and Poppy right now on the mountain, and I miss him. His mom and stepdad are coming to get him Friday, and I dread his leaving already. I had no idea how fast I could fall in love with this little man who came along into my life when his daddy did. I never dreamed my life would be filled with cartoons, pb&amp;j, Veggie Tales, Pokemon, bandaids and boo-boos, comic books, early-morning snuggles on the couch, and the dramas that only 8 year old boys can create.  I never dreamed I would love every single second of it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become the biggest homebody on the planet...I hate to go anywhere anymore.  I dread when work starts back in August.  All I want to do is stay in my little house with my "guys" and hang out.  I want to do laundry, clean, cook for my boys, tend to my lettuce and tomatoes growing in the back, my herbs and flowers growing in the front.  I want to stand out on the back porch every night with the little guy and call for the neighbor's cat, look up at a million stars while the jasmine growing on the railing perfumes the air.  I never want the summer to end.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My one consolation is that even when it does, there's always next summer, and the next, and the next...so it will be okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-82374912174258153?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/82374912174258153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=82374912174258153' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/82374912174258153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/82374912174258153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/06/just-stuff.html' title='Just stuff...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-5216398153718303495</id><published>2007-06-16T19:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T19:31:05.952-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Weekend in the Smoky Mountains of TN...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR7CO09ZhI/AAAAAAAAAAw/hhmK6e-zlyY/s1600-h/004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076817958223570450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR7CO09ZhI/AAAAAAAAAAw/hhmK6e-zlyY/s200/004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Greg and I in the car on our way to Gatlinburg, and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR7fe09ZiI/AAAAAAAAAA4/0IhjxT3d360/s1600-h/009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076818460734744098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR7fe09ZiI/AAAAAAAAAA4/0IhjxT3d360/s200/009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the front port of a little place where we had lunch while out shopping (well, more like window-shopping) in the arts/crafts colony in Gatlinburg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR8Gu09ZjI/AAAAAAAAABA/eEWwav2lEIo/s1600-h/010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076819135044609586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR8Gu09ZjI/AAAAAAAAABA/eEWwav2lEIo/s200/010.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my hubby having a sammich!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR9S-09ZkI/AAAAAAAAABI/SCSdmtVtBC4/s1600-h/039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR9S-09ZkI/AAAAAAAAABI/SCSdmtVtBC4/s200/039.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076820445009634882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a photo Greg took of us with the "self-portrait" setting of the camera...his always come out better than mine because my arms are too short...lol!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These other shots are just random photos I took on our drive up into the mountains...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnSAUu09ZqI/AAAAAAAAAB4/SmuUfkkI_mE/s1600-h/032.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnSAUu09ZqI/AAAAAAAAAB4/SmuUfkkI_mE/s200/032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076823773609289378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR_v-09ZpI/AAAAAAAAABw/roCCThKsmws/s1600-h/050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR_v-09ZpI/AAAAAAAAABw/roCCThKsmws/s200/050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076823142249096850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR_LO09ZoI/AAAAAAAAABo/z6O_pfsCm5I/s1600-h/028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR_LO09ZoI/AAAAAAAAABo/z6O_pfsCm5I/s200/028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076822510888904322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-5216398153718303495?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/5216398153718303495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=5216398153718303495' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5216398153718303495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/5216398153718303495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/06/our-weekend-in-smoky-mountains-of-tn.html' title='Our Weekend in the Smoky Mountains of TN...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/RnR7CO09ZhI/AAAAAAAAAAw/hhmK6e-zlyY/s72-c/004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-2319556457790185234</id><published>2007-06-12T06:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T07:06:08.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi, I'm Mrs. Hillis...</title><content type='html'>So. I promised myself I wouldn't post here until it was official.  Finally, the day has arrived.  As of last Saturday, I am now Mrs. Charlotte Hillis.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone kept telling me I was the calmest bride they had ever seen.  So many people kept saying, "wait, the breakdown will come."  Well, it never really did.  Our wedding day was so wonderful, so happy and full of love, friends and family--there was no reason to be nervous or anxious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bridesmaids were my best friends Jane and Wendy, and my first cousin (practically sister) Tammy.  They looked beautiful in dark purple gowns with shrug jackets over them, carrying wildflower bouquets.  The groomsmen were Greg's dad, his nephew Dustin, and my cousin (practically brother) Eddie.  They looked so handsome in black suits with white shirts and lavender ties.  My (step)son looked beautiful in his little black suit, purple shirt and matching tie.  And my Greg was the most handsome man in the world in his suit and lavender tie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding party walked down the aisle to "Feels Like Home" by Raul Malo. I watched from the wings as the couples went before me, then my sweet little boy.  My little Mama (so pretty in soft blue) held my arm and whispered "take a deep breath, baby," as we stepped to the end of the aisle. Raul Malo was singing my exact thoughts as I walked slowly down the aisle:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you knew how much this moment means to me&lt;br /&gt;and how long I've waited for your touch&lt;br /&gt;If you knew how happy you are making me&lt;br /&gt;I've never loved anyone so much...&lt;br /&gt;Feels like home to me&lt;br /&gt;Feels like home to me&lt;br /&gt;Feels like I'm all the way back&lt;br /&gt;Where I come from...&lt;br /&gt;Feels like home to me&lt;br /&gt;Feels like home to me&lt;br /&gt;Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment I started walking I saw Greg's face smiling at the end of the aisle.  He looked so happy--just glowing with happiness and love.  I glanced around the church, and every face was smiling at me.  I have never felt so happy, so thrilled, yet so at peace with where I was and what was happening.  Everyone I loved was there, and so many of my dearest friends, also.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin conducted the ceremony perfectly, with grace, charm, humor, dignity, and reverence.  His calm manner and strength kept me from crying (well, until the end anyway), and his gentle direction made everything go so smoothly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the best bridesmaids in the entire world.  Jane has been my rock and my strength, my sounding board, my confidante, my cheerleader, and my right arm.  I could have done NONE of this without her.  I love her more than I can say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wendy was my protector, my assistant, my defender, and my "panic button" for the day before and of the wedding.  I never realize just how much I miss her until I see her again.  We've been best friends for over twenty years, and whenever we get together, time seems to have never passed.  We fall right into a rhythm that only true friends have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tammy was (and is) the sister I never had.  We've always loved each other and been close, but this made us even closer, I think.  She was so wonderful about helping me plan everything, made me laugh when I needed it, encouraged me when I needed it, and kept me in the right perspective when I needed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew...this is a lot after only one cup of coffee.  I'll post more later, and hopefully some photos soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much Love,&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Hillis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-2319556457790185234?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/2319556457790185234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=2319556457790185234' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2319556457790185234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/2319556457790185234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/06/hi-im-mrs-hillis.html' title='Hi, I&apos;m Mrs. Hillis...'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1535228277234234617.post-6075486962401442446</id><published>2007-03-12T04:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-12T04:55:59.818-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't post here...yet.</title><content type='html'>I'll be back when I'm Mrs. Hillis...hehe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1535228277234234617-6075486962401442446?l=mrshillis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/feeds/6075486962401442446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1535228277234234617&amp;postID=6075486962401442446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6075486962401442446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1535228277234234617/posts/default/6075486962401442446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mrshillis.blogspot.com/2007/03/cant-post-hereyet.html' title='Can&apos;t post here...yet.'/><author><name>Mrs. Hillis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07640975141754689012</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2o6fJA4Jey8/SkCm6dFG89I/AAAAAAAAAho/-yAF7OnySoE/S220/new+hair.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
