<?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-14328180</id><updated>2012-01-23T11:15:46.044-06:00</updated><category term='rants'/><category term='national debt'/><category term='Controversy'/><category term='Editorial'/><category term='Religion'/><category term='politics'/><category term='congress'/><title type='text'>The Pink Pamphlet</title><subtitle type='html'>A guide to understanding the modern female psyche, as well as a few other things I occasionally like to discuss.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-2344908989801750020</id><published>2011-08-03T21:12:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T21:40:34.815-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='national debt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='congress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Politicians - What are they good for??</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so frustrated with ongoing news about the shortcomings of our inactive government.  Why is everyone so fricking happy that we finally managed to pass a last-minute measure to keep the entire government from defaulting on its debts and coming to a disastrous credit precipice?  That budget work should have been done &lt;em&gt;years&lt;/em&gt; ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention that while they stomped around refusing to compromise on that issue, they completely failed to address the FAA funding problem that &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; causes &lt;strong&gt;4000&lt;/strong&gt; workers to be laid off and costs, according to NPR, around $30 &lt;em&gt;million&lt;/em&gt;  a day in uncollected airline ticket taxes....so basically a billion dollars thrown away by the time our congress, who is currently taking a goddamn VACATION, comes back to work in September.  A vacation.  Really?  'Cause you got so much work done lately??  How about you think about those airport inspectors while you're flying home from D.C. for a break; think about how that guy, whose job is to keep you safe, is currently working without a paycheck and without any reimbursement for his travel expenses.  You think he wants to come back to work and serve you and the rest of the public again tomorrow, knowing you don't give a damn about his job, Congress?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet if &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; jobs were on the chopping block, your paycheck and your private congressional healthcare and your fat congressional retirement plan, you would find it in your hearts to call a special session and pass a freaking bill to authorize THAT funding, wouldn't you?&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/14328180-2344908989801750020?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/2344908989801750020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=2344908989801750020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/2344908989801750020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/2344908989801750020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2011/08/politicians-what-are-they-good-for.html' title='Politicians - What are they good for??'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-8760231084556883067</id><published>2007-10-01T21:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T21:53:01.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're so proud</title><content type='html'>There are giant, healthy babies in my belly!  Seriously, our girls on today's ultrasound weigh in at a healthy 5 lbs (Baby A) and 4lbs 11oz (Baby B) which is slightly &lt;em&gt;ahead&lt;/em&gt; of the average for 33 weeks gestation! Way to go, girls!  At this rate they should be very healthy and well-developed by their 37 week c-section date of October 29th, and might even be "done" a little sooner.  My perinatologist expects I'll go into labor sometime before my scheduled date, and if that happens my OB will proceed with a c-section at whatever time the girls choose to arrive.  Me (and my aching body) can hardly wait to finally have these girls on the outside where we can really get to know and enjoy them!  (For those of you who like math, please note I'm currently carrying almost as much baby weight as when Little Blue was born - he was over 10 lbs - and also keep in mind the average baby will continue to gain about half a pound a week until delivery, so if these girls stick around until week 37, they'll have a combined weight over 13 lbs!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-8760231084556883067?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/8760231084556883067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=8760231084556883067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/8760231084556883067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/8760231084556883067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2007/10/were-so-proud.html' title='We&apos;re so proud'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-936387833608536437</id><published>2007-09-09T15:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T15:21:41.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a Cool Nerd.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.nerdtests.com/nt2ref.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.nerdtests.com/images/badge/nt2/f7eb1cd754210927.png" alt="NerdTests.com says I'm a Cool Nerd.  What are you?  Click here!"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I tend to prefer the term "Geek."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-936387833608536437?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/936387833608536437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=936387833608536437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/936387833608536437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/936387833608536437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-am-cool-nerd.html' title='I am a Cool Nerd.'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-1347929831599691176</id><published>2007-07-18T21:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T21:32:45.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Milestones</title><content type='html'>Today Blue and I each felt our girls kicking for the first time &lt;em&gt;from the outside.&lt;/em&gt;  And in an instant of giggly surprise, weeks of aching hips and sore back and tiredness all faded substantially into a much more cheerful perspective.  My children are in there.  They are growing and healthy and we can &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; them.  Even &lt;em&gt;see&lt;/em&gt; them push and bump against my skin.  Somehow this is even more important than when I began to feel them weeks ago from the inside.  This is tangible, and it can be shared. It is magical and thrilling.  I am content.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-1347929831599691176?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/1347929831599691176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=1347929831599691176' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/1347929831599691176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/1347929831599691176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2007/07/milestones.html' title='Milestones'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-1300131721818477117</id><published>2007-05-10T21:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T21:49:05.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprises</title><content type='html'>So, the Pamphlets are finally pregnant again.  It took a while, but is always worth the effort.  Of course, there are always a few surprises when you introduce biological chemistry to romance and mix in humor.  And boy have we ever had our share of suprises this time!&lt;br /&gt;First, we had a sonogram at nine weeks.  Expected to be a routine scan, the idea was to view the heartbeat of the baby and confirm a healthy rate of growth.  I nearly fell off the table when the sonogram technician said she thought she saw two little ones in there.  But when I saw them on the screen, looking so tiny, with their tiny hearts thudding away like mad, I loved them instantly. &lt;br /&gt;This is a blog, however, and not a Hollywood docudrama, and so there must be a certain degree of honesty to maintain the integrity of the medium.  In the first few days and weeks after learning that multiple babies are on the way, not everyone is filled with joy.  Not all the time.  Twice the contents does not equal twice the enthusiasm.  Especially not at first.  Having twins is a little scary, a little overwhelming, and financially staggering.  There are moments of thrilling excitement, of almost giggly happiness, but there are also tearful moments spent contemplating a future vastly different than the one originally imagined.  There are choices to be made about work, lifestyle changes and sacrifices to be made for the sake of health, and times when fears simply get the better of you.  What if I develop a fatal blood clot because of the &lt;em&gt;two&lt;/em&gt; blood clot disorders I have, and wind up leaving Little Blue motherless all because I didn't want him to be siblingless?  What if the blood clot develops in the placenta and chokes the life out of my helpless children before they ever arrive?  What if I can't keep my blood sugar in tight control and they suffer health consequences that are entirely my fault?&lt;br /&gt;What I'm finding is that having twins is a dichotomy of experience, at once sweet and bitter, encompassing elation and trepidation.  Today was a perfect example.  In one brief instant during a sonogram, we learned a single fact both thrilling and chilling:  our twins share one placenta, so by definition they are identical twins, a fascinating and fun phenomenon.  But with a shared placenta, they are at risk for a deadly condition in which blood and nutrients meant for both is unevenly shared, which can lead to serious health complications for the recipient twin, who becomes engorged, and can lead to the death of the poor donor twin, who literally gives all of its vital life resources to its sibling, growing steadily smaller and sometimes being completely reabsorbed by the mother.  As terrifying as that is, I still left our appointment today feeling a little excited.  I'll be monitored closely to catch any possible case of twin-to-twin transfusion early, and it doesn't happen to everyone, and after all, they are a healthy size so far, and so incredibly &lt;em&gt;cute&lt;/em&gt; when they wriggle around on screen during the sonogram!  I've lost 9 pounds since I became pregnant so far, and as long as I stick to the strict guidelines of my nutritionist, there's no reason to worry that I'll have a problem gaining too much weight.  I have no personal history of blood clot problems, despite the two mutations, and statiscally even people who have more than one clotting disorder like I do might still never experience a life-threatening clot in their lifetime.  So I plan to spend as much of my pregnancy as possible embracing the joy, and forgiving myself when I get worried or emotional.  And not thinking too hard about what &lt;em&gt;might&lt;/em&gt; happen.  And giving Little Blue as many tight hugs and special quality times with us as we possibly can, so that when his siblings arrive, he might forgive them for demanding so much of our attention.  I think he'll find, as we will, that they'll be worth all the effort and worry when they get here.  Twice the expected number of babies might not always be twice the excitement, but it's definitely bringing more than twice the love to our family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-1300131721818477117?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/1300131721818477117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=1300131721818477117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/1300131721818477117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/1300131721818477117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2007/05/surprises.html' title='Surprises'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-5251642936007239355</id><published>2007-03-24T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T22:41:16.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quizzilicious</title><content type='html'>1. How old will you be in five years?&lt;br /&gt;32, not that it matters, as plenty of people think I'm that old already.  My 40 year old friend gets carded more often than I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Do you think you will be married by then?&lt;br /&gt;I plan to continue being married for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. How tall are you?&lt;br /&gt;6'2".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What do you look forward to most in the next six weeks?&lt;br /&gt;Our first sonogram of Pamphlet 2.0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What's the last movie you saw?&lt;br /&gt;Charlotte's Web, a couple hours ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Who was the last person you called?&lt;br /&gt;The last call I made was during work yesterday, I don't recall who it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Who was the last person to call you?&lt;br /&gt;Blue, yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What was the last text message you receive?&lt;br /&gt;Blue sending me a link to watch the new &lt;em&gt;Order of the Phoenix&lt;/em&gt; trailer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Do you prefer to call or text?&lt;br /&gt;I don't text over the phone.  It costs extra and is WAY less efficient than talking.  But I love computer text messaging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Do you have any pets?&lt;br /&gt;A pretty, precious princess named Guenhwyvar.  She's lovely and silky soft and very temperamental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What were you doing at 12am last night?&lt;br /&gt;Watching the Roast of William Shatner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Are your parents married/separated/divorced?&lt;br /&gt;My biological parents have been divorced almost 27 years, but my "real" parents, my mom and step-dad, have been together almost as long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. When is the last time you saw your mom?&lt;br /&gt;I think it was during our vacation to California in 2005.  But we'll see her this summer when we head back for my high school reunion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What color are your eyes?&lt;br /&gt;Very blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. What do you like about winter?&lt;br /&gt;Uh... not much.  I like watching snow fall.  But driving in it sucks.  And scraping it off my car.  And stamping it off my feet after which it tracks all over the house anyway.  The best thing about winter is that's when Little Blue arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. What do you like about the summer?&lt;br /&gt;Summer is hot and humid and I'm really nervous about tornadoes, so it mostly bites.  The best thing about summer is our daycare closes for vacation so we get to take our vacation to spend time with Little Blue and see my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. What do you like about spring?&lt;br /&gt;It is my second-favorite season, a time of rebirth and the stirring of new life and hope.  Both of my pregnancies were begun in the spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. HOW MANY States have you lived in?&lt;br /&gt;3.  Incidentally, Blue said 1, but he forgot we lived in Independence for a while, so his answer should have been 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. How many cities/towns have you lived in?&lt;br /&gt;7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Do you prefer shoes, socks, or bare feet?&lt;br /&gt;Bare feet!  I like my toes in the grass and my feet touching the earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Are you a social person?&lt;br /&gt;I am friendly, good-humored, and affectionate with my friends, but I tend to be a little shy and just smile quietly around strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. What was the last thing you ate?&lt;br /&gt;Garlic and olive oil couscous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. What is your favorite restaurant?&lt;br /&gt;I'm a huge fan of Zuppa Toscana and alfredo-dipped bread sticks from Olive Garden, but Old Chicago, BoLing's, and any good steak or seafood joint are close runner-ups.  And of course, if money and time were no object, my top two would be The Melting Pot and Gojo's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. What is your favorite ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate fudge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. What is your favorite dessert?&lt;br /&gt;Tropical Sno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. What is your favorite kind of soup?&lt;br /&gt;Zuppa Toscana when splurging: a deliciously spicy little jobber with sausage, potatoes, kale, and a creamy but not too thick broth.  For everyday though, it's gotta be creamy tomatoe soup with grilled cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. What kind of jelly do you like on your PB &amp; J sandwich?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a super-huge fan of the PB&amp;amp;J, but when I eat it I like lots of kinds of jams, including strawberry, blackberry, grape, raspberry, apricot, and plum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Do you like coffee?&lt;br /&gt;About three times a year, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. How many glasses of water, a day, do you drink on average?&lt;br /&gt;Glasses could be any size.  Let's go with an objective measurement.  Most days I drink at least half a gallon of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. What do you drink in the morning?&lt;br /&gt;I tend to prefer hot tea with cream and sugar or chai latte from a delicious powdered mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?&lt;br /&gt;A &lt;em&gt;specific&lt;/em&gt; someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed?&lt;br /&gt;I am traditionally on the right side of the bed when you're standing at the foot looking at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. do you know how to play poker?&lt;br /&gt;a couple different ways, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. Do you like to cuddle?&lt;br /&gt;If I were a mythological deity, it would be Goddess of Cuddling, Snuggling, and General Coziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Have you ever been to Canada?&lt;br /&gt;Not thus far, but I wouldn't mind a visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Do you eat out or at home more often?&lt;br /&gt;We have a plan to do better, which involves going to the store for meal supplies when we're  unprepared (i.e. forgot to thaw something) instead of eating out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?&lt;br /&gt;Nope, and I never have known anyone with it, oddly enough.  Though I've known someone for every birthday on either side of mine to round out the week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Do you want kids?&lt;br /&gt;We certainly haven't been having them by accident!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Do you speak any other languages?&lt;br /&gt;Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Have you ever gotten stitches?&lt;br /&gt;Many, many.  I had 27 in my knee from one accident, and I don't even know the count from my cesarean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?&lt;br /&gt;Several very expensive and ultimately wasted times.  Hopefully never again.  For the record, if you ever have the misfortune to see me faint, I do NOT need an ambulance!  It looks much worse than it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Do you prefer an ocean or a pool?&lt;br /&gt;The ocean, the ocean, a thousand times the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Do you prefer a window seat or an aisle seats?&lt;br /&gt;I wish either of them had more room for my knees.  And it should be illegal for the person in front of me to recline all over my lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Do you know how to drive a stick?&lt;br /&gt;My poor dad tried to teach me once. I had no talent for it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. What is your favorite thing to spend money on?&lt;br /&gt;Fun outings with the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Do you wear any jewelry 24/7?&lt;br /&gt;Blue's wedding band.  He's allergic so he can't wear it, and his, being a man's, is wider than mine, and therefore looks nicer and more noticeable on my finger.  Especially since I long ago abandoned wearing the matching engagement ring, whose diamond-on-prongs scratched both Little Blue and Big Blue alike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. What is your favorite TV show?&lt;br /&gt;Battlestar Galactica, Stargate SG-1 and Atlantis, Lost, and Avatar: The Last Airbender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Can you roll your tongue?&lt;br /&gt;I can sort of curl it up on both sides to form a tube, is that what you mean? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. Who is the funniest person you know?&lt;br /&gt;Little Blue I think.  Or at least he seems to make me laugh more than anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?&lt;br /&gt;Just one cuddly-wuddly snugglebear. Don't worry, I never actually call him that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51.What is the main ring tone on your phone?&lt;br /&gt;A fanciful little melody I never quite realize is my phone in time to answer it.  I should probably change it to something more annoying and functional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. Do you still have clothes from when you were little?&lt;br /&gt;When was I ever little?  It seems unimaginable that I was ever as small as my son is now.  I definitely don't have any of my childhood clothing hanging about, thank goodness, since I hoarde everything else so obsessively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. What color are your bedroom walls?&lt;br /&gt;Robin's egg blue.  Take that, Blue!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Do you turn off the water while you brush your teeth?&lt;br /&gt;You betcha.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. Do you sleep with your closet doors opened or closed?&lt;br /&gt;"Closed, though if it gets hot, we can open it because it has a door to the attic." Which we would NEVER open that attic door because Pink would lay awake all night wondering if SWARMS of SPIDERS were SNEAKING into her very bed!  Don't even suggest it!  That attic door must never be opened. Never!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of killer bees?&lt;br /&gt;Actually, Blue, you probably can't outrun bees.  But you have more chance of rescue and successful treatment if you're stung a bunch than if you're mauled.  But, y'know, try to be attacked near a hospital either way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. Do you flirt a lot?&lt;br /&gt;I used to flirt much worse than I do now, but I still catch myself at it once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58. What do you dip a chicken nugget in?&lt;br /&gt;If it's McD's, sweet &amp; sour sauce, but if it's a real fried chicken strip, I prefer honey first or ranch second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59. What is your favorite food?&lt;br /&gt;I do really enjoy my spaghetti sauce, but I think my favorite food is cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Can you change the oil on a car?&lt;br /&gt;Uh, no.  That would be really &lt;em&gt;dirty.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket?&lt;br /&gt;Not yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. Have you ever run out of gas?&lt;br /&gt;Nope, but I look forward to Blue returning the favor if I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. What is your usual bedtime?&lt;br /&gt;10ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. Do you read the newspaper?&lt;br /&gt;Not generally.  I like to look through the Business Journal when I get a chance, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Do you have any magazine subscriptions?&lt;br /&gt;Not currently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;66. Best comedian?&lt;br /&gt;Lewis Black. Hands down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;67. Do you watch soap operas?&lt;br /&gt;thankfully no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;68. Do you dance in the car ?&lt;br /&gt;That'd be sort of difficult, wouldn't it?  But there are a couple of songs for which I will do a sort of bouncy, head-bobbing almost-dance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-5251642936007239355?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/5251642936007239355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=5251642936007239355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/5251642936007239355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/5251642936007239355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2007/03/quizzilicious.html' title='Quizzilicious'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-2620988857122355506</id><published>2007-01-02T20:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T21:48:53.826-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Editorial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Controversy'/><title type='text'>2007</title><content type='html'>Ladies and Gentleblues, it's a new year out there.  Time for a serious look into the ol' pink matter, or brain, for those of you who insist on anatomical correctness.  (If any one of you so much as thinks about commenting about the true color of brain matter, so help me I'll slap you upside the head with my big Creative License stick.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like State of the Union time in my mind, summing up opinions and venting those festering pools of irritation, folks, and there is a LOT of CRAP going on, let me tell you.  And a couple of kudos, too.  So let's get started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RELIGION&lt;br /&gt;Great big, fat, hypocritical pusspool oozing nasty things like persecution and the doctrine of hate all over my rosy-colored dream of utopian America.  What is UP with these Christian fundamentalists shoving their petitions and their prayers and their group meetings all up in my email and my office and my schools??  I got one today asking me to support the ideals of prayer in school and Christian television programming.  I get invitations at my workplace to participate in weekly prayer meetings in the conference room, which, even in the most comfortable, caring work environment such as mine is hard to graciously decline.  Uh, hello? Is anybody thinking out there?  Not everyone in America is a Christian.  And while those who call themselves Christian (and I don't think all of them are living up to the name) are certainly entitled to the same free speech rights as everyone else, that doesn't mean they have the right to force feed their dogma to the young and impressionable in an environment where I have no parental oversight or ability to protect the developing mind of my child:  namely, school.  I happen to be one parent who gratefully accepts whatever protections are offered that will keep my son from being biased toward any one religion.  I &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; expect them to ban all religious expressions.  I DO expect them to refrain from forced participation and coercive pressures to embrace said expressions.  Feel free to keep "under God" in the Pledge, America, but don't make my kid recite it.  It's my choice to keep his mind open to many possibilities until he's old enough to evaluate which spiritual path rings true in his heart, and then to accept his choice even if it's different than mine.  I want him to self-educate on religion, to follow where his curiosity leads him, to read books, question spiritual leaders of different faiths, and decide for himself what feels right, not blindly accept the only "truth" he's been allowed to experience during his formative years.  And I want a few freedoms for myself as well.  I want to not be afraid to declare my religious choices.  I want to not feel ostracized for walking a path outside of the mainstream.  I want to be able to wear the symbols of my faith in public without fear of repercussions within my family or colleagues or friends.  I want to trust everyone I care about to accept me the way I am, but every day in the news I read things that terrify me and make me question the real meaning of "freedom of religion."  Because I think it doesn't just mean freedom to practice the faith of your choice &lt;em&gt;only&lt;/em&gt; if you keep it secret and outwardly pretend you agree with the majority. I think it should mean freedom from persecution, freedom from judgment, from slander, from the slinging of insulting and hurtful labels that have no basis in fact.  It should mean equal recognition, equal respect, so that no one faith is held above all others as the superior, most righteous, most legal or most normal.  /rant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the attaboys (and attagirls, as the case may be): &lt;br /&gt;A big hat's off and salute to our troops at home and abroad, no matter what their current assignment may be or whether you agree with it's motives and means.  My earlier commentary on freedoms I lack does not mean for one minute that I ever forget or am ungrateful for the many, many freedoms I DO have.  Those men and women put on a uniform everyday and proudly display our country's symbols in a world that isn't always happy to see them, that boos and hisses on one side of the scale and shoots and bombs them on the other, but they persevere and give their all to keep us safe and secure.  May your 2007 be safer than your 2006, wherever it takes you, and may all your homecomings to friends and loved ones be sweet and long-lasting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three cheers to bloggers who tell it like it is and for anyone to see - to cancer fighters, infertility chroniclers, civil rights watchdogs, recipe geniuses and personal friends.  Your blogs educate, empower, inflame, inspire, and otherwise ignite my thinking and feeling responses and I thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here's to 2006, with all its ups and downs, goodbye, we love you, we'll miss you, and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.  2007, bring it on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-2620988857122355506?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/2620988857122355506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=2620988857122355506' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/2620988857122355506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/2620988857122355506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2007/01/2007.html' title='2007'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-116191173609344719</id><published>2006-10-26T20:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T20:15:36.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Command Performance</title><content type='html'>Devoted reader(s), I am sorry to have kept you waiting.  Please, sit down and enjoy the following rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. Pamphlet and I are currently trying to have another little pamphlet.  A leaflet, shall we say.  Trying to have a leaflet is, for a woman, an all-consuming activity that takes over the brain and limits all other functions in order to divert maximum thought power to the obsession of fertility and it's intricacies.  I can literally think of nothing else, all day long.  I go to work, and do my job, but some uncounted number of minutes out of every hour is spent staring out the window of my office contemplating my coworker's unexpected pregnancy and my lack thereof.  Now our dear friends of Sci-Fi Friday nights are pregnant too, and wouldn't it just be too cute if all three of us could be pregnant at once?  Yes, it WOULD be just too goddamn cute.  If I could only get pregnant.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you curious about the Blue Pamphlet perspective on this situation, it runs simply along these three primary thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;1.  My wife wants to watch porn and DO IT every other night.  SWEET!&lt;br /&gt;2.  I haven't DONE IT this much since before we got married.  Goddamn I'm tired!&lt;br /&gt;3.  I hope we get pregnant soon so my wife won't be so moody and mopey....wait... that IS what it's like when she's pregnant....oh well.  Let's DO IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's life for the Pink lately.  I am at once optimistically cheerful and hormonally irritable.  Mike Thompson, Katie Horner, and Gary Lezak couldn't predict my mood weather if they all three stayed up all night and interrupted regular programming every five minutes with updates.   Pity Blue, folks, pity him and give him cookies.  He's so cute when he's cookiehappy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-116191173609344719?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/116191173609344719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=116191173609344719' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/116191173609344719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/116191173609344719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/10/command-performance.html' title='A Command Performance'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-115993052815375708</id><published>2006-10-03T21:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T21:55:28.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If I had a cartoon alter-ego...</title><content type='html'>She might look something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3829/1293/1600/Chip%20Persona.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3829/1293/320/Chip%20Persona.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep inside I still have a fondness for Goth. What can I say.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, &lt;a href="http://ugoplayer.com/games/characterdressupcreator.html"&gt;Ugoplayer.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-115993052815375708?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/115993052815375708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=115993052815375708' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115993052815375708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115993052815375708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/10/if-i-had-cartoon-alter-ego.html' title='If I had a cartoon alter-ego...'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-115829081541059798</id><published>2006-09-14T22:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T22:47:58.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue keeps talking about how evil he is.</title><content type='html'>He's only 6% more evil than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 68% Evil&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#dddddd"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/evil-4.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;You are very evil. And you're too evil to care.Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/"&gt;How Evil Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Shhhh, Don't tell Blue I married him for his books.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#eee9e9;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You are a Brainy Girl!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.yournewromance.com/whatkindofgirlareyouquiz/brainy-girl.gif" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Whether you're an official student or a casual learner, you enjoy hitting the books.&lt;br /&gt;You know a little bit about everything, and you're always dying to know more.&lt;br /&gt;For a guy to win your heart, he's got to share some of your intellectual interests.&lt;br /&gt;A awesome book collection of his own doesn't hurt either!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="&lt;a"&gt;What Kind of Girl Are You?&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/14328180-115829081541059798?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/115829081541059798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=115829081541059798' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115829081541059798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115829081541059798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/09/blue-keeps-talking-about-how-evil-he.html' title='Blue keeps talking about how evil he is.'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-115751225553242903</id><published>2006-09-05T21:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T22:10:55.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>They've got your Jesus Juice right there.</title><content type='html'>Now we lowly mortals can bask in the perfume of the gods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.hisessence.com/category_s/19.htm"&gt;http://www.hisessence.com/category_s/19.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Credits: Found on the &lt;a href="www.nonfluffy.com"&gt;Non-Fluffy Wicca&lt;/a&gt; blogsite, which proclaims itself the "ramblings of an aging eclectic witch" but in regular reading seems dedicated to sociopolitical commentary on topics relevant to modern American and international religious freedoms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-115751225553242903?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/115751225553242903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=115751225553242903' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115751225553242903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115751225553242903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/09/theyve-got-your-jesus-juice-right.html' title='They&apos;ve got your Jesus Juice right there.'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-115699273690300401</id><published>2006-08-30T21:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T21:52:16.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladies and Gentlemen, the Pink Pamphlet Official Seal!</title><content type='html'>*the crowd goes wild*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3829/1293/1600/PinkPamphletSeal.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3829/1293/320/PinkPamphletSeal.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you, thank you.  And thank YOU, says-it.com.&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/14328180-115699273690300401?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/115699273690300401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=115699273690300401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115699273690300401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115699273690300401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/08/ladies-and-gentlemen-pink-pamphlet.html' title='Ladies and Gentlemen, the Pink Pamphlet Official Seal!'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-115068983897034800</id><published>2006-06-18T21:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T23:03:59.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love quizzes. Especially short &amp; sweet ones</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#eee9e9;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Inner European is French!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whosyourinnereuropeanquiz/french.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart and sophisticated.&lt;br /&gt;You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whosyourinnereuropeanquiz/"&gt;Who's Your Inner European?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Fish&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindofmeatareyouquiz/fish.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have a well formed palate and a daring appetite. If it's served to you, you'll at least try it.&lt;br /&gt;People are pretty scared of your exotic ways. But once they get a taste of you, they're addicted!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofmeatareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Meat Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"  style="color:#dddddd;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Who Should Paint You: Alfred Gockel&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatartistshouldpaintyourportraitquiz/alfred-gockel.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All American yet funky, you inspire an artist's imagination&lt;br /&gt;And while not everyone will understand your portrait, you will!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatartistshouldpaintyourportraitquiz/"&gt;What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Check out Blue's results to this Evil quiz - Should I be frightened? ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="350" align="center" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle" bg style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; COLOR: blackfont-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 74% Evil&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#dddddd"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img height="100" src="http://images.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/evil-4.jpg" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are very evil. And you're too evil to care.&lt;br /&gt;Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/"&gt;How Evil Are You?&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/14328180-115068983897034800?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/115068983897034800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=115068983897034800' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115068983897034800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115068983897034800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-love-quizzes-especially-short-sweet.html' title='I love quizzes. Especially short &amp; sweet ones'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-115016808649827299</id><published>2006-06-12T21:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T22:08:06.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hell's Kitchen</title><content type='html'>I am an avid Hell's Kitchen fan.  For those of you who don't know, it's a high-stress reality tv show about a bunch of so-called chefs with varying levels of experience all competing for a chance to own a stake in their very own restaurant where they would be the head chef, all under the direction of the infamous culinary bad boy, Gordon Ramsey.  I love the way he takes a bunch of fairly ordinary people who are possessed of the very unrealistic notion that they are good enough to run a posh, five star restaurant, and whips them into shape until one of them actually is good enough.  I love that he doesn't coddle anyone, I love that he swears like a sailor with a sexy British accent, and I love watching the delusion chef competitors sweat and cry and bitch and moan and actually improve into decent cooks. &lt;br /&gt;This season's theme is Men vs. Women, which of course has me all pumped up for an exciting competition, since I know perfectly well that all the contestants suck at the beginning and both the men's and women's teams have an equal shot at becoming something great.  What immediately soured me on some of the women's teammates was the way they bought into the whole stupid "we have something to prove because we're women"  concept.  "We've got to get out there and kick those guys' butts because we have to show the world that we're as good as they are."  That's a bunch of bullshit.  Raise your hand if you just read about a men vs. women challenge in the kitchen and immediately thought the women were at a disadvantage and had to "prove themselves."  Any takers?  Right.  I don't see a lot of inequality in the kitchens of the world these days, folks.  Both men and women cook in most families I know, and there are gifted cooks and biohazard-worthy representatives on both sides.  Of course the men were making lots of sexist comments about how they had to beat the women, too.  They irritated me as well, but not as much as when the women themselves become their own enemies. &lt;br /&gt;Think about it, ladies.  How many times have you heard a woman say something along the lines of what one chef contestant said tonight:  "I've had six boys and I had them all naturally, and if I can do that I figure I can handle this." &lt;br /&gt;Digest those words for a moment. &lt;br /&gt;What the fuck is that saying?!  "If I can do the one physical task for which my entire being has been evolved to perform without even thinking about it, then I can do this to."  Way to go, lady! Pin a fucking medal on that one!  Why is childbirth the defining achievement in a woman's life?  I defy you to find one single mother on the planet who would think for an instant that the birthing was more difficult than, say, the actual raising of the child, or the balancing of the needs of the child with the financial needs of the family, or the juggling of the child and the husband and the housework, and so on, and so on.  Childbirth was the simplest, most natural part of the job, the one thing we do with our children that we hardly have to think about.  That baby's coming out, one way or another.  Millions of mothers with every disadvantage you can think of manage this task every day, mostly without doctors or even labor partners or a clean floor to lay on, bless their hearts.  Is that the measuring stick we want to use to challenge ourselves to achieve greatness?  Do you ever hear men say, "If I can whack off five times in the same day, I can definitely handle this."  Or, "Hell, if he can pee standing up this task is a piece of cake."  No one ever says that.  Because it would be RETARDED.&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, can we please aspire to something a little more than just making babies?   Of course there is nothing wrong with making babies.  We're brilliant at it.  Our bodies are finely crafted machines, for lack of a better word, designed specifically to do that, so obviously it's not an activity to be shunned or ashamed of.  I'm just saying it's not the best we can do.  Think of it this way.  Two dollar crack whores can have babies.  But it takes a real woman to get off the crack, get a job, a place to live, get that baby back from state custody, and raise it into a young adult with a future they can make something of.  How about we aspire to be good mothers, good community members, good partners who can model a lifetime commitment of love for the person of our choosing, good contributors to our society and economy, either in the workforce or as responsible consumers.  Let's not demean ourselves every time someone throws a challenge at us by saying what that ridiculous chef said, who, by the way, got her ass thrown out of Hell's Kitchen on the first night, and good riddance I say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-115016808649827299?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/115016808649827299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=115016808649827299' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115016808649827299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/115016808649827299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/06/hells-kitchen.html' title='Hell&apos;s Kitchen'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114727371884869545</id><published>2006-05-10T07:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T22:17:23.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>*plagiarizes Blue's Blog content*</title><content type='html'>1. FIRST NAME? Pink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My brother and I were both named after our father's two fathers: bro after the birth father who was killed in the war, and me after the step-father who raised him. Weird since I'm a girl. My middle name is the middle name of my mom's baby sister who was killed by cancer when she was about 18, many years before I was born. I sort of look like her though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Watching some sad tv show or movie in the last few days, I'm a total sap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Most of the time, but I far prefer typing.  After all, I could never write 120wpm with a pen or pencil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Turkey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. KIDS? What is the question? Do I like them? Do I have any? Am I for or against them? Sure, I like kids.  Heck, I love kids.  MY kids, i.e. Blue, Little Blue, and the cat.  And most babies.  But other people's older kids?  Sometimes they annoy me.  Mostly because other people's kids don't always behave very well.  And sometimes their parents annoy me even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? This question is unfair to schizophrenics.  And other weird people who think in multiplicities, like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? No.  I write my personal thoughts and feelings down, yeah, but it's not, like, a &lt;em&gt;journal&lt;/em&gt; or anything.  *rolls eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? I solemnly swear that I do not use sarcasm, I don't use derisive humor to punish those who have derided me, and I definitely never mock morons, idiots, or the intellectually handicapped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? If I tied a kitten to a length of rubber band and dangled it over a cliff, that would be criminal.  So why would I let anyone do that to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?? I've looked for Blue's tonsils, but couldn't conclusively say they were still there or not... have to keep examining.......... Me, I've still got them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Basic 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Not generally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG, PHYSICALLY OR MENTALLY? I think my upper body strength is rather puny, my lower body strength is adequate, my mind is a slightly above average muscle, and my heart is an Olympian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Jamocha Almond Fudge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. SHOE SIZE? This better not be a sneaky way of discussing my reproductive parts.... I wear a men's shoe mostly, because the only women's shoes that come in anything close to a 12wide or larger are made for people who like wearing four inch heals or bizarrely styled sandals.  I would hit my head on door jams if I wore those, so in men's I wear a 10.5 to 11.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. RED OR PINK? Pamphlet designation notwithstanding, I think most shades of pink are wussy and suck.  I like red better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?  My insecurities about body image.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? The family I gave up to start this one.  Mom, two dads, a brother, half a dozen sisters, my sisters' wonderful children and grandchildren...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? Comments are good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES YOU ARE WEARING? Black pants, white sneakers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. LAST THING YOU ATE? Cheezits and a club soda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Blue is shooting Shoreline with headphones on, so all I hear is the whir of the CPU fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Ocean Goddess Blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. FAVORITE SMELL? Blue is a very cheeky devil.  And my favorite smell is baby shampoo.  Or my spaghetti sauce.  It's kind of a toss-up.  Not for the same reasons, though.  &lt;em&gt;Duh.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? A polite, helpful life insurance medical questioner, who now knows more about me than my own mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO?  Their smile, and very importantly, &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; did they smile, i.e. enjoyment of life vs. vicious pleasure in someone else's misfortune...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?  I stole it from hubby, so what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. FAVORITE DRINK? Chocolate martinis, raspberry martinis (when made right) and Woodchuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. FAVORITE SPORT? I think there ought to be Olympic typing.  Yeah... and championship Falling Down.  I LOVE watching people fall down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. HAIR COLOR? Brownish-auburnish, and yes, some gray.  But not as much as Blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. EYE COLOR? Blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Oh yes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. FAVORITE FOOD? My spaghetti does kick ass.  But my favorite food is probably cheddar cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING? Scary movies &lt;em&gt;with&lt;/em&gt; happy endings. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? This afternoon at work I watched a movie clip of a man who set his pubic hair on fire... on purpose.....that was weird.  Hilarious, but weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? What are you, some kind of voyeuristic perv?  What's with the "what are you wearing" obsession?  Don't you have clothes of your own to think about??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. SUMMER OR WINTER? Fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. HUGS OR KISSES? Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. FAVORITE DESSERT? Chocolate.  Or ice cream.  Or Pumpkin Bomb.  Or S'mores.  Or English Toffee.  Or English Pudding!  Oh and cheesecake.  And... you get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? I won't rock the boat, I'll say CameraGal too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? People who don't read my blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap... and Others Don't by Jim Collins, and a religious book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? ...........................&lt;em&gt;a mouse.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. WHAT DID YOU WATCH LAST NIGHT ON TV? NCIS and House.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. FAVORITE SOUNDS? Little Blue giggling and singing songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. ROLLING STONE OR BEATLES? Led Zeppelin, dood. Staind. Trapt.  Red Hot Chili Peppers. Seether.  Chevelle.  System of a Down.  That kind of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Massachusetts, when home was in California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?  Wouldn't you like to know?  No seriously, I do have a special talent.  I am uniquely gifted at erroneously giving random strangers the impression that I would like nothing more than to listen to their (usually tragic) life stories, in great detail, often with awkward, incriminating or embarrassing tidbits of information about the stranger thrown in for good measure.  Honestly.  Do I have a sign on my forehead that I don't know about??  &lt;em&gt;The confession booth is open. &lt;/em&gt;Or maybe &lt;em&gt;Had anything hideously awful happen to you lately?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Even though you could totally use this information to stalk me and slay me brutally in my innocent sleep..... El Cajon, California, on the 8th of March.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114727371884869545?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://thebluepamphlet.blogspot.com/' title='*plagiarizes Blue&apos;s Blog content*'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114727371884869545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114727371884869545' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114727371884869545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114727371884869545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/05/plagiarizes-blues-blog-content.html' title='*plagiarizes Blue&apos;s Blog content*'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114628040367965089</id><published>2006-04-28T21:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T22:13:23.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Delectable Dipping</title><content type='html'>As promised, a sumptuous study of the Pamphlet's anniversary dinner at The Melting Pot on the Plaza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, we absolutely never go anywhere near the Plaza under normal circumstances.  So just driving there at all already starts to make the evening feel special.  Couple this with an absolutely gorgeous sunny afternoon, the giggly high of having just spent a couple of hours at Dave &amp; Buster's having silly fun, and you have a recipe for a dinner that can't go wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sit down to dinner in a comfy dimness lit by candles and well-spaced subtle lighting.  The novelty of the upcoming meal has me almost giddy, which makes Blue laugh at my cuteness.  It feels like when we were first dating.  We choose from the menu the only appropriate option for two lovers experiencing fondue dining for the first time:  The Big Night Out, a full-fledged four-course meal for two at one convenient and reasonable price.  It consists of a cheese fondue appetizer, choice of salad for each person (so we don't have to negociate a dressing/greens compromise), meat or vegetarian main course, and a bowlful of bliss chocolate fondue dessert.  So let us begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For our appetizer I selected traditional Swiss cheese fondue, made tableside by our talented and not-enough-to-be-annoyingly conversational waitress.  White wine goes into the pot, followed by a tiny spoonful of chopped garlic, a sprinkling of fresh ground pepper, nutmeg, fresh squeezed lemon juice, kirschwasser, and heaps of finely grated Gruyere and Emmenthaler Swiss cheeses.  It melts into something that makes my mouth water almost immediately, and we are presented with a tray of dippables:  chunks of French, dark rye, and one other bread, green apples, carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower.  Our favorites were the breads and the apple chunks.  To round out our romantic evening, we each select a cocktail to enjoy with dinner:  for me a raspberry martini, for Blue a Yin-Yang Martini.  His is practically a dessert of ice cream, Stoli Vanil, Godiva White Chocolate, and Creme de Cacao, topped with milk chocolate shavings that form the chinese symbol on top of the drink, with a white chocolate disk as the counterpoint.  He let me have a couple of sips, and it was divine!  I must confess that my raspberry martini fell far short of expectations that are extremely high after being introduced to that particular drink at J. Gilbert's where it is smooth and absolutely delicious.  The Melting Pot's version didn't have enough vodka and so it was reminiscent of raspberry cough syrup.  But that's my only complaint of the entire evening. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the salad course.  Blue takes the Orchard salad, an eclectic mix of greens I tend to think of as "yard weed salad" topped with walnuts, white raisins, apple chunks, and a creamy ranch-like dressing with some sort of cheese neither of us can remember now.  He says it was really good, but it wasn't my sort of thing.  I chose the Chef salad sans cucumber, and loved it.  Regular lettuce greens, slices of roma tomato, sliced boiled egg, chunks of ham, emmenthaler cheese, topped with the tangy-sweet House dressing that I would describe as some sort of very mild and un-mustardy honey mustard vinaigrette. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the main course, you have a choice of cooking styles.  A vegetable broth, a cholesterol-free canola oil, the new Mojo caribbean broth, or traditional French Coq au Vin.  Not wanting to fry our whole meal, wanting to be more adventurous than veggie stock but worried about the potential spiciness of Mojo, we chose Coq au Vin, a savory broth that starts out looking like veggie broth but with the addition of fresh herbs, mushrooms, three spoonfuls of chopped garlic, and a sizable glass of hearty burgundy wine, it is transformed into a most delicious bath for our platter of dippables.  Which is another choice we got to make, and again we stuck with the most traditional plate, which I think was called the Heritage.  Sesame beef, parsleyed chicken breast, pork, center cut filet, a Rock lobster tail to share, chunks of a very large portobello mushroom, and one pretty green gorgonzola-and-spinach ravioli for each of us.  Plus a trough of veggies including red potatoes, broccoli, yellow squash, and button mushrooms.  All of these are brought to the table raw, and we get to cook them ourselves in the roiling boiling Coq au Vin, just the steam of which was making my mouth water.  As if the flavor of everything that came out of that pot wasn't already good enough, sauces were provided for additional variety of tastes.  For the veggies, a creamy parsley and chive dip, for the red meats a gorgonzola and port wine cream sauce, and for the rest of the meats as we so chose a trio of bold sauces:  sweet teriyaki glaze, spicy barbecue, and mild, soothing yellow curry.  I adore yellow curry in all it's I-look-like-mustard-but-taste-like-nutmeggy goodness.  This phase of the meal was just plain fun, timing the different foods in the pot to achieve the desired doneness, dipping, sampling sauces, sipping drinks and giggling at each other.  And it was so very flavorful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then it was time for dessert.  Oh sweet heaven, choices again!  There are about six kinds of chocolate fondue there, we went with the not too adventurous and old-fashioned fun option of the S'mores fondue.  Like each of the others before it, this pot was prepared right before our eyes tableside.  Molten chocolate was swirled with marshmallow cream, then set ablaze with some sort of liqueur, probably more Stoli Vanil, and while that flickered, crushed graham crackers are poured in, the tiny crumbs toasting in the little blue flames.  Accompanied by a dippables tray of sliced strawberries, banana, pineapple, graham crackers, marshmallows rolled in graham cracker crumbs or chocolate cookie dust, tiny chunks of brownie, poundcake, and finally a slice of cheesecake to share topped with a marachino cherry, this dessert was truly sinful and we enjoyed every bite of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole night was the perfect mixture of fun, romance, fine dining, responsible consumption of actual grown-up drinks, and just good quality time together.  Unforgettable.  Definitely want it to be repeatable.  Bon appetit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114628040367965089?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.meltingpot.com/KansasCitymo/home.html' title='Delectable Dipping'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114628040367965089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114628040367965089' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114628040367965089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114628040367965089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/04/delectable-dipping.html' title='Delectable Dipping'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114308819451239870</id><published>2006-03-22T22:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T22:29:54.526-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need a Hero</title><content type='html'>Today at lunch the Pamphlets met at Taco Bell to share a meal. I am one of those people who frequently custom-orders fast food, not because I'm uberpicky or anything, but for the simple reason that uncooked onions are gross and leave a terrible burpy aftertaste. So my burrito supreme is always ordered without onions. Only today it wasn't made correctly, and the onions were STILL THERE. Yuck! What to do? I really don't want to eat the onion burrito. I have an afternoon meeting in which I'll speak a lot in a small room. Onion breath is not a healthy part of that equation. It will definitely have to be returned to the counter and traded for a properly onionless version. This, I firmly believe, is best handled by Blue, for very good reasons.&lt;br /&gt;Blue Takes It Back vs Pink Takes It Back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;When a man takes an item back, it's because it's the restaurant's mistake. When a woman takes it back, she is bitchy and finicky. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Blue can shift attention from himself and thus feel no pressure. "My wife's burrito has onions. She wants a new one." If I go up there, it's all about me. "I really wanted one without onions. &lt;/span&gt;It's on the receipt... Can I have a new one.... please?" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's romantically old-fashioned and even chivalrous for Blue to fix the burrito problem for me and swoop in on a white horse with a non-smelly burrito. It is icky and confrontational for me to go up there and complain about my food if the problem is not really a health or safety issue, but rather based only on my wants. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes little effort for Blue to do it. I offered to pay him $5.00 even. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue, strangely, did not agree with my arguments. He felt I needed to "be assertive" and "show that the sexes are equal" and "put on my big girl panties" and go up there and do it myself.  I say the nice thing to do is be the hero and go up there for me, even if being assertive would be a character-building experience for me.  I'd rather save assertiveness training for more important issues.  So here it is folks, the first ever, You Decide Pink and Blue Pamphlet Poll:  What should it be?  Hubby the Hero or See Pink Turn Red?  The end result is, of course, Blue got his way.  I went up and got a fixed burrito.  But I'd still like to know what the good readers think of the issue.  Please vote via comments.  And remember that I still have that five bucks.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Footnote:  Little Blue gallantly offered to be my hero at dinner when Blue and I were joking about lunch.  I love that little guy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114308819451239870?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114308819451239870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114308819451239870' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114308819451239870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114308819451239870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-need-hero.html' title='I Need a Hero'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114282345945389511</id><published>2006-03-19T20:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T20:57:39.470-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If nothing else, the internet has taught us how to self-obsess.</title><content type='html'>And yet still more getting to know me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four jobs you have had in your life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Secretary&lt;br /&gt;2. Sort and Count in a casino vault&lt;br /&gt;3. Office Manager of a courier company&lt;br /&gt;4. Accounting Assistant/Davis-Bacon, Section 3, and Minority Contracting Compliance specialist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four movies you would watch over and over:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Man From Snowy River&lt;br /&gt;2. The Lord of the Rings trilogy&lt;br /&gt;3. Finding Nemo over and over and over, because Little Blue loves it&lt;br /&gt;4. The Incredibles, because I like it as much as Little Blue does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places you have lived:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Willits, CA&lt;br /&gt;2. Davis, CA&lt;br /&gt;3. Independence, MO&lt;br /&gt;4. Olathe, KS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 TV shows you love to watch:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. NCIS&lt;br /&gt;2. House&lt;br /&gt;3. Battlestar Galactica&lt;br /&gt;4. Anything on FoodTV with Rachel Ray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 places you have been on vacation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Pismo Beach, CA&lt;br /&gt;2. Willits, with a day in Fort Bragg&lt;br /&gt;3. Laurie, at the Lake of the Ozarks&lt;br /&gt;4. 28 states on any one of many family road trips&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four websites I visit daily:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. For the past 2 days, and the next few, sportsline.com to look at how my brackets are doing.&lt;br /&gt;2. google&lt;br /&gt;3. gmail&lt;br /&gt;4. bluepamphlet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four of my favorite foods:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Italian&lt;br /&gt;2. Chinese &amp; Thai&lt;br /&gt;3. Pizza&lt;br /&gt;4. Mexican&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four places I would rather be right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Upstairs in bed sleeping through my tummyache&lt;br /&gt;2. cuddled up with a good book and some hot chai&lt;br /&gt;3. not thinking about going to work tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;4. sitting on the couch with some jamocha almond fudge ice cream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114282345945389511?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114282345945389511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114282345945389511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114282345945389511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114282345945389511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/03/if-nothing-else-internet-has-taught-us.html' title='If nothing else, the internet has taught us how to self-obsess.'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114101713465672301</id><published>2006-02-26T22:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T23:12:14.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"I have made fire!"</title><content type='html'>I feel like Tom Hanks in "Cast Away" today.  I have made good, healthy food for my family, from scratch, &lt;em&gt;without a recipe!!!&lt;/em&gt;  It is a triumphant day in the battle against cooking laziness and taking the easy way out.  So often I serve frozen pizza, hamburger helper, or take-out.  And truthfully, not getting home until 5pm and Little Blue having a 7pm bedtime, that's all there's time for on week nights most of the time.  Rachel Ray might make 30 minute meals but she also makes another 30 minutes of kitchen clean-up time, and I'd rather spend that time with my son.  So really adventurous, homestyle, and slow-cooked meals are reserved for weekends, and today I outdid myself, if I may say so.  The in-laws were over for dinner and NASCAR and I put together a delicious and hearty meal of seafood chowder using only ingredients I already had on hand.  Plus it was in the crock pot, so it required only occasional attention and prep work from me and mostly took care of itself.  Best of all, my family loved it.  It started with four or five frozen boneless cod filets, seasoned with a sprinkling of my all-time favorite all-purpose spice, Santa Maria seasoning, which I import via relatives from California because it's not sold out here, but basically it's a nice preblended mixture of garlic, pepper, parsley, and salt.  After a couple of hours I added coarsely chopped artificial crab meat and canned whole potatoes chopped into bite sized pieces.  With that went another sprinkling of Santa Maria plus some celery salt, since I had no celery on hand.  Also a dash of dried minced onions and some onion powder for flavor and texture combined.  Oh and about a cup and a half of water.  I almost used chicken stock instead for additional flavor, but decided it would've been too salty and also too high in sodium.  Another couple of hours later and I was ready to work on my soup broth.  I made a rue of butter and flour cooked to a golden sort of dry pasta color, then &lt;em&gt;very slowly &lt;/em&gt;added about a cup and a quarter of milk.  (If you don't add the milk super slow, its coldness will shock the butter/flour paste and cause it to turn into tiny bits of never-dissolving dough instead of a smooth creamy sauce.)  To this cream sauce I added more celery salt, a tiny shake of Santa Maria, a healthy dose of black pepper, and a shake of garlic powder.  I cooked it on medium for about ten minutes, not letting it boil, which cooked out any remaining flour taste.  Then into the crock pot it went and kept at just below a simmer for about ten minutes so all the flavors could meld together.  Voila!  I served it with half a loaf of yummy, crusty Country Bread from Panera that was left over from stew we had the night before.  Rave reviews, loved by all but Little Blue and even he liked it enough to finish all but two bites of his dinner.  I was quietly, humble and gracious but inwardly ecstatic, as I always am whenever I manage to feed people something I feel is good.  There's something very satisfying about &lt;em&gt;nourishing&lt;/em&gt; people, providing sustenance that I've put my time and love into, made with my own skills, however flawed, and seeing happy faces of enjoyment around my table.  If I won the lottery I would probably take cooking classes and host dinners at my house every week just to keep up that great feeling.  A truly happy day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114101713465672301?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114101713465672301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114101713465672301' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114101713465672301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114101713465672301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-have-made-fire.html' title='&quot;I have made fire!&quot;'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114075607511015674</id><published>2006-02-23T22:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T22:41:15.136-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Because Cameragal found a survey that made me laugh</title><content type='html'>What time did you get up this morning? 5:45, 5:49, 5:53, 5:57, and 6:01.  After that I got out of bed. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diamonds or pearls? I'm not a jewelry wearer most of the time, but to look at pretty pictures in catalogs, I prefer diamonds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was the last film you saw at the cinema? The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your favourite TV show?  Battlestar Galactica, House, NCIS, Stargate SG-1, and Stargate Atlantis.  Oh and Lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you usually have for breakfast?  A single chicken-broccoli-cheddar hot pocket and a cup of coffee or tea.  Washed down with my morning dose of insulin sensitizing pills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite cuisine? Italian, Chinese, Thai, Mexican.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What food do you dislike? cucumbers, melons, frozen peas, frozen greenbeans, mushrooms, raw onions, liver, sweet potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your favourite CD at the moment? The mixed ones I make to listen to in Blue's car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning or night person? I'm good all day except the first 15 minutes of the day.  After that I'm great. During those 15 minutes I am an uncoordinated space cadet who needs to be constantly supervised to keep from bumping into walls and stepping on kitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite sandwich?  I love tons of different sandwiches, I don't have a favorite, it just depends what I'm in the mood for that day.  But if you go by statistics, what sandwich do I eat the most, which removes lots of yummy sandwiches from the list that are too complicated to make or require ingredients I don't typically keep on hand, then the tie for first place would be egg sandwiches and tuna sandwiches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What characteristic do you despise? Bigotry, homophobia, prejudice, discrimination AND reverse discrimination. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite item of clothing? Any really soft snuggly shirt that Blue wears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? Australia!  And then Alaska.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What colour is your bathroom? We have a white and blue bathroom and a mostly colorless off-white bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite brand of clothing? Liz and Me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where would you retire to? Somewhere with a mild climate but a low cost of living. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was your most memorable birthday? I remember my 5th, 13th, and 21st the most.  After that I mostly started remembering other birthdays, like fun little toddler birthday parties we go to with Little Blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the best quality about your s/o or best friend: Something about him makes everyone love him, respect him, and turn to him for help.  He's got that special, je ne se quois, or however you spell that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who do you least expect to complete this? Annielove, cause she hasn't posted on her blog since October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Person you expect to complete it first? Kelly's probably right, Scott.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Person who is least busy? I don't really know any unbusy people....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When is your birthday? March 8th&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your shoe size? 10.5 to 11 men's! I'm practically off the chart for women's shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pets? pretty kitty, Guenhwyvar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? I lost ten pounds.  Or actually, I relost ten pounds I'd already lost and then gained back over the holidays.  Too bad backpedaling doesn't actually burn calories!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did you want to be when you were little? A high-powered, ass-kicking District Attorney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the funniest comment/complement someone has given you in the past week? Sometimes my boss calls me the Pink Panther because of the amateur investigative research I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What date on the calendar are you looking forward to? Friday! Tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One word to describe yourself? Paradoxical.  (Blue says that's a good way of saying "double standard!" in one word.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114075607511015674?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114075607511015674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114075607511015674' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114075607511015674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114075607511015674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/02/because-cameragal-found-survey-that.html' title='Because Cameragal found a survey that made me laugh'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-114058442746805619</id><published>2006-02-21T21:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T23:00:27.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Because everything else I can think of to write about at the moment sounds complainy...</title><content type='html'>What time are you starting this?: 9:18pm&lt;br /&gt;Name?: Pink&lt;br /&gt;Nicknames?: soooo many, soooo not telling all of them.&lt;br /&gt;Where were you born?: El Cajon, CA (that’s pronounced [ell cah-HONE], not [ell cah-john], Kansans.)&lt;br /&gt;Number of candles on your last birthday cake?: I think the wording of this question is ridiculous. How about, “How old are you?” and then I say, “26, for a few more weeks.”&lt;br /&gt;Pets?: One kitty named Guenhwyvar&lt;br /&gt;Hair color?: Dark blonde (or light brown?) with some auburn highlights and I pluck the grays.&lt;br /&gt;Piercings?: The old-fashioned two in the ears kind. I used to have a second in each ear and a third ear piercing in my right ear, but I think they closed up. Being on the phone all the time whilst needing my hands free means earrings get really uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;Town you live in?: Olathe, KS&lt;br /&gt;Favorite foods?: Chinese and Italian, and Mexican. And pizza.&lt;br /&gt;Ever been to Africa?: No…. nor Europe, nor Australia, nor any other of Earth’s continents except North America. Why single out just Africa?&lt;br /&gt;Been toilet papering?: As I explained to Little Blue, T.P. is only for wiping our noses OR our potty parts, (not both at once!) and that’s all.&lt;br /&gt;Love someone so much it made you cry?: Frequently. (Frequently loved that much, not necessarily frequently cried about it.)&lt;br /&gt;Been in a car accident?: Just a fender bender or two. None that I honestly feel responsible for, though in the wonderful state of Kansas even an accident I couldn’t possibly avoid in front of me counts as my fault. *grumble*&lt;br /&gt;Croutons or bacon bits?: Croutons, unless the bacon bits are genuine real bacon crumbles that are CRISPY, not chewy.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite day of the week?: Friday.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite resturant?: The Thai Place, Olive Garden.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite flower?: To look at? Roses. But the scent is too strong for me, so for bouquets it’s usually carnations.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite sport to watch?: Iron Chef! :p&lt;br /&gt;Favorite drink?: Water, Diet Coke, Pepsi One, raspberry martinis, white Russians. Oh and chocolate martinis too.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite ice cream flavor?: Chocolate or mocha almond fudge.&lt;br /&gt;Warner Bros. or Disney?: I grew up on Disney, and I love the old Disney classics still.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite fast food restuarant?: Goodcents, Arby’s, Taco Bell.&lt;br /&gt;Carpet color in your bedroom?: Honey wheat. Ignore Blue’s answer. Boys don’t know colors.&lt;br /&gt;How many times did you fail your driver's test?: None.&lt;br /&gt;Whom did you get your last email from?: My co-worker, MB.&lt;br /&gt;Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?: Bed Bath and Beyond.&lt;br /&gt;What do you do most often when you are bored?: play on the computer or read books.&lt;br /&gt;Most annoying thing to say to me?: “You are soooo lucky to have/take home/be married to [Blue]. Isn’t he just wonderful?” As a matter of fact he is, hence my being in love with him. But doesn’t anybody think he’s just the tiniest bit lucky to have me???&lt;br /&gt;Bedtime?: 10-11 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite TV show?: The entire line-up of Sci-Fi Fridays: Stargate SG-1, Atlantis, and Battlestar Galactica.&lt;br /&gt;Last person you went out to dinner with?: Blue and Little Blue&lt;br /&gt;Been out of country?: Not once, but not for lack of wanting to.&lt;br /&gt;Believe in magick?: Yes&lt;br /&gt;Ford or Chevy?: I like the Ford I drive, but in general I’m a born-and-raised GMC fan.&lt;br /&gt;What are you listening to right now?: Blue playing GTA San Andreas.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever failed a grade?: No.&lt;br /&gt;If you have, what grade did you fail?:&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a crush on someone?: Does it count if I think some celebrities are cute? Currently I like Jason Isaacs. But not as Lucius. Being mean and the whole white-blonde thing don’t do it for me.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a bf/gf?: Husband.&lt;br /&gt;If so, what is their name?: Blue&lt;br /&gt;How long have you been together?: Wow, I can’t believe this fall will make 9 years that we’ve known each other.&lt;br /&gt;What are you wearing right now?: Black jeans and a fall-colored shirt.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had a crush on any of your teachers?: Not that I remember.&lt;br /&gt;Do you smoke?: Hell no. I’m so sensitive to smoke it’s actually inconvenient for ME sometimes, let alone for smokers. I can smell a smoker from about 10 feet, even when they aren’t currently lit up. Sometimes my coughing and needing to get away for fresh air when I’m around them is annoying. But I don’t have much sympathy for them, to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;Do you drink?: Less than 2-3 drinks per week at the most, closer to an average of 4-5 drinks per month.&lt;br /&gt;Are you ghetto?: I’m not sure exactly what that’s supposed to mean, but if I take my clues from the way I was treated at a recent job site meeting regarding diversity hiring practices, I would say probably not. Certain members of a mostly minority community were not thrilled that I have my job instead of one of them. I guess you can’t please everybody.&lt;br /&gt;Are you a player?: I like games.&lt;br /&gt;What are your favorite colors?: Blue.&lt;br /&gt;What is your favorite animal?: Cats and dragons.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any birthmarks?: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever gotten your ass kicked?: Once in my Tae Kwon Do class, and once at a Karate tournament. But at all the other tournaments I went to, I medaled.&lt;br /&gt;Who do you talk to most on the phone?: Subcontractors.&lt;br /&gt;Do you get online a lot?: Couple hours a day usually.&lt;br /&gt;Are you shy or outgoing?: Most often shy.&lt;br /&gt;Do you shower?: Yes. But I dream of having a giant bathtub filled with scented soap bubbles and no toddler.&lt;br /&gt;Do you hate school?: I loved school.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a social life?: Enough to keep me happy. It’s not a super busy social calendar, by most standards though.&lt;br /&gt;How easily do you trust people?: Pink is spelled G-U-L-L-I-B-L-E with a capital G.&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever sky dive?: Thrillseeking doesn’t seem like such a “cool” thing to do when you have a child’s future to consider. Is any 3 minutes of fun or excitement worth risking my life for? Not that I can think of.&lt;br /&gt;Do you like to dance?: With Blue, yes.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been out of state?: I’ve been to 28 of them, at last count.&lt;br /&gt;Do you like to travel?: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been expelled from school?: definitely not.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been suspended from school?: Not once.&lt;br /&gt;Do you want to get out of your hometown?: I did, 1800 miles out. Not because I didn’t like it, though. I loved it. Just not as much as Blue.&lt;br /&gt;Are you spoiled?: In many, many ways.&lt;br /&gt;Are you a brat?: *angelic*&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been dumped?: Three times.&lt;br /&gt;Do you like snapple?: Not especially.&lt;br /&gt;Do you drink a lot of water?: I try to.&lt;br /&gt;What toothpaste do you use?: Sensodyne, my teeth are sugar sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a cell phone?: Sure do.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a curfew?: On the rare occasion I’m out in the evening, I really prefer to be home in time to say goodnight to Little Blue.&lt;br /&gt;Who do you look up to?: Lately I really look up to my dad. He’s made a lot of changes in himself in the past few years to be an even better man/husband/father than I already thought he was. It makes me proud.&lt;br /&gt;Are you a role model?: I try to be a good role model for my son, but when he’s not around, I cut loose a little and have fun.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been to Six Flags or Cedar Point?: I’ve been to a theme park that used to be called Six Flags Great America in California, but I think it has different owners now. I don’t know what Cedar Point is.&lt;br /&gt;What name brand do you wear the most?: Lady Speed Stick Wild Freesia. I never go a day without wearing it.&lt;br /&gt;What kind of jewelry do you wear?: My wedding band. Rarely earrings, when I’m not going to be on the phone a lot.&lt;br /&gt;What do you want pierced?: Um, no stabbings today, thanks.&lt;br /&gt;Do you like takin pictures?: yep!&lt;br /&gt;Do you like gettin your picture taken?: nooo, not really.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a tan?: I can not tan.&lt;br /&gt;Do you get annoyed easily?: Certain things set me off a lot faster than others.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever started a rumor?: Not intentionally.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have your own phone or phone line?: I’m a big girl now, I get to have my own phone line and pay for it too! Along with the electricity, the gas, the water, and the rest of the house.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have your own pool?: Sometimes there’s a little puddle in the car port…&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any siblings?: I had six sisters and two brothers. One of my sisters died. At the age of 48. Of throat cancer that she got from, wait a minute, oh yeah, from SMOKING! Yes I’m still mad about it even though it was two years ago. Yes I always will be. Yes I get even more angry when I see people who know better who are just too lazy or too nonchalant to quit. People who are older now than she was when she died and don’t even have the grace to be thankful that they aren’t seriously ill from smoking complications yet. Or people that are young, knowing all we know about it now, with enough time ahead of them to stop and even reverse it’s harmful effects on their bodies, and are still bullheaded and stubborn and yeah-I’ll-say-it STUPID enough to keep doing it anyway. Yeah, quitting is hard! It’s uncomfortable! It’s irritating and sometimes painful and a lot of work! It might take years to quit completely. And it’s goddamn worth it, that’s what it is.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been played?: Blue plays me like a virtuoso whenever he wants to manipulate a surprise for me or a favorable answer out of me.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever played anyone?: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Do you get along with your parents?: Almost all the time.&lt;br /&gt;How do you vent your anger?: Mostly with music and talking.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever ran away?: Have you ever RUN away. Not ran. Yes. Once. Sort of. I made a circle and went right back home of course.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been fired from a job?: No.&lt;br /&gt;Do you even have a job?: From age 14 to now the longest I have ever not had a job is 2 months. I’ve been at my current job for over 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;Do you daydream a lot?: Not nearly as much as I used to.&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a lot of ex's?: No.&lt;br /&gt;Do you run your mouth?: Quite a bit, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;What do you want a tattoo of?: I don’t want a tattoo.&lt;br /&gt;What does your ex bf/gf look like?: Technically, Blue is my most recent ex. Obviously, we got back together and got married. ;)&lt;br /&gt;What does your most recent crush look like?: Other than the obvious answer, there are a few celebrities I think are hot. But there’s no one “type” of appearance that universally appeals to me.&lt;br /&gt;Whats her/his name?: It’s a secret.&lt;br /&gt;Are you rude?: Not usually.&lt;br /&gt;What was the last compliment you recieved?: Yesterday Little Blue told me, “Good job, Mommie!” when I finished all my dinner. :)&lt;br /&gt;Are you flexiable?: I’m fairly adaptable. Which is different, but in my opinion a little more important.&lt;br /&gt;What is your heritage?: British and American. With some way, way distant far back German I think. Oh and some way far back French, too, since I’m related to Davy Crockett and his ancestors were French, the Crocketagne family.&lt;br /&gt;What is your lucky number?: 26&lt;br /&gt;What does your hair look like right now?: A bun with some wisps falling out.&lt;br /&gt;Could you ever be a vegetarian?: I have been occasionally in the past.&lt;br /&gt;Describe your looks?: I guarantee you I look exactly like my mother’s only birth daughter.&lt;br /&gt;If you had to completely dye your hair it'd be what color?: Auburn.&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever date someone younger than you?: I would never date while I’m married. :p Which is a bit of a cheater answer, I suppose. In the past I haven’t ever dated anyone younger than me, but not because I wouldn’t. It just didn’t happen to work out that way.&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever date someone older than you?: Blue is older than me.&lt;br /&gt;How many rings until you answer the phone?: As few as possible. It’s one of my compulsions.&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you went on a date?: While LB attended a BD party for a friend, pink and I took in a cheap pizza buffett, does that count? &lt;-- What Blue said.&lt;br /&gt;Do you look more like your mother or father?: Like my mother, although sometimes, by a weird twist of genetic fates, I look more like my mother’s younger sister, who didn’t survive to have children of her own.&lt;br /&gt;Do you cry a lot?: I cry easily, but that doesn’t mean a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever cry to get your way?: I hate crying. I would never do it on purpose.&lt;br /&gt;What phrase do you use most when on the phone?: I have a bad habit of saying “No problem,” instead of “You’re welcome.”&lt;br /&gt;Are you the romantic type?: Very.&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been chased by cops?: I’ve been pulled over, but there was no chase involved.&lt;br /&gt;What do you like most about your body?: It made a healthy baby. Go me!&lt;br /&gt;What do you like least about your body?: It’s shape/proportions.&lt;br /&gt;When did you have your first crush?: I was madly in love with no less than six boys simultaneously in my 1st grade class.&lt;br /&gt;In the opposite sex, do you prefer blondes or brunettes?: I don’t care about hair color. It helps if it’s clean, though.&lt;br /&gt;What theme does your room have?: Um, our bedroom is mostly blue. LB’s room is Little Boy themed. That’s about it for themes at our house.&lt;br /&gt;What do you drive?: Your typical family car, a Ford Windstar minivan.&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you cried in school?: Sophomore year of college when I realized I was going to drop out and move back home. Admitting I was overwhelmed and needed help was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.&lt;br /&gt;What kind of music do you like?: Alternative, rock, classical, and an occasional song from other genres that I don’t necessarily like as a group.&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever bungee jump?: Refer to the sky diving question.&lt;br /&gt;What is your worst fear?: Something happening to Little Blue or hubby.&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever join the army?: They wouldn’t take me if I tried, actually. But I wouldn’t like to anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Do you like cows?: Beef good! Milk good! Cheese good! Leather good! Butter good!&lt;br /&gt;Do you like to party?: A good party to me is one with board and/or card games, friends, not too many people, and optionally good movies/tv shows. I like them without or without responsible alcohol consumption. I don’t like them with irresponsible alcohol consumption.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite scent?: Little Blue’s hair right after his bath.&lt;br /&gt;Favorite band?: Too many to name, the tops right now are The Killers, Staind, Snow Patrol, Interpol, NIN&lt;br /&gt;Would you ever dye your hair red?: I have before.&lt;br /&gt;How many languages can you speak?: American English, a little bit of Spanish&lt;br /&gt;What time are you finishing this?: 10:48 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so some of this wound up being complainy anyway.  Too bad. :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-114058442746805619?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/114058442746805619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=114058442746805619' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114058442746805619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/114058442746805619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/02/because-everything-else-i-can-think-of.html' title='Because everything else I can think of to write about at the moment sounds complainy...'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113920339412170817</id><published>2006-02-05T22:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T23:23:14.133-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Not to break my copycat streak...</title><content type='html'>From Veggienerd via Blue Pamphlet, here is the courtesy-of-AmericanExpress My Card survey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name...Pink Pamphlet&lt;br /&gt;childhood ambition...District Attorney - put the bad guys in jail hot-shot lawyer style.&lt;br /&gt;fondest memory...My childhood imagination.  I entertained myself with the most wonderful, adventurous stories.&lt;br /&gt;soundtrack...bold, dramatic, moving, tempered by quiet, reflective melodies a la Hans Zimmer, John Williams, Howard Shore, and Danny Elfman.&lt;br /&gt;retreat...really good sleep&lt;br /&gt;wildest dream...winning the lottery.&lt;br /&gt;proudest moment...my two-year-old having completely accident-free potty training days, and my hubby being recognised as the equivalent of employee of the year.&lt;br /&gt;biggest challenge...admitting inadequacy and asking for help.&lt;br /&gt;alarm clock...a loud beeping.&lt;br /&gt;perfect day...having a perfect hair day (bouncy, flirtatious curly hair that doesn't drive me crazy), doing something simple but brilliant at work, then coming home to hugs and kisses and shouts of "Mommie! You brought your coat!" and enjoying a homecooked meal that cleans up easily to allow time for couch snuggling before the little guy goes to bed.&lt;br /&gt;first job...typing and answering phones for dad's construction business.&lt;br /&gt;indulgence...cheddar cheese&lt;br /&gt;last purchase...at the drug store - birth control and chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;favorite movie...changes all the time.  right now - The Incredibles or Harry Potter.&lt;br /&gt;inspiration...music&lt;br /&gt;My life...is a love story, the best kind of love story, with more than one kind of love.  A harmony of opposites: tears and laughter, innocence and sensuality, romantic attraction and motherly devotion.  My world essentially revolves around only two people, but it is full. &lt;br /&gt;My card...is MasterCard - some things in life are priceless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113920339412170817?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113920339412170817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113920339412170817' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113920339412170817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113920339412170817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/02/not-to-break-my-copycat-streak.html' title='Not to break my copycat streak...'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113807733911363574</id><published>2006-01-23T22:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T22:35:39.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Survey, Part Deux</title><content type='html'>1) I wouldn't mind being 21-24 again, when I was more certain of my youth and true adulthood still felt pretty far away.  But then I didn't have Little Blue.&lt;br /&gt;2) Where were you when 9/11 happened?  At a gas station in KCMO getting chocolate milk on my way to work.  I heard about the first plane crash on the radio right before I went inside, but at that point no one knew it was a deliberate act yet.&lt;br /&gt;3) What do you do when vending machines steal your money? Get a little frustrated. &lt;br /&gt;4) Do you consider yourself kind? Not as much as I used to be, but for the most part, still yes.&lt;br /&gt;5) When you see a homeless person on the side of the road, what do you think? That I can think of half a dozen or more activities that person could do to improve their life that are more productive than begging or sleeping on the side of the road.  I'm not a big fan of handouts.  I think most of us are capable of doing some small thing to earn our way in the world.  If quadriplegics can earn a living making paintings with a brush in their mouth, then most of the beggars I've ever seen ought to be able to do &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; useful.&lt;br /&gt;6) If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be? The only way I could be made to get a tattoo would be in prison or something like that, and then I wouldn't have a choice about where it goes.  I have no tolerance for that particular kind of pain.&lt;br /&gt;7) If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be? I would love to speak Irish Gaelic or Welsh.&lt;br /&gt;8) Do you know your neighbors? Yep!&lt;br /&gt;9) What do you consider a vacation? Any bonus day I get to spend with my family instead of working, without taking a hit in the paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;10) Do you follow your horoscope? Only for fun.&lt;br /&gt;11) Would you move for the person you loved? Been there, done that. &lt;br /&gt;12) Are you touchy feely? I have well defined comfort boundaries, and I'm usually very good at broadcasting them on a subconcious level.  If I'm comfortable with someone hugging me, they can usually tell.  If I'm not, it's obvious.  A good example of this:  not one stranger or little-known acquaintance ever touched my stomach while I was pregnant, despite many women reporting that it's common for unwanted attentions like that during pregnancy.  It simply was clear that I wouldn't tolerate it.&lt;br /&gt;13) Do you believe that opposites attract? I think attraction is a complex phenomenon, and that while it may be true that sometimes opposites attract, that doesn't necessarily mean that opposites will live happily ever after.  I think a good balance of conflicting and complimentary interests and personality traits is necessary to have a relationship in which both parties can grow as individuals and yet share meaningful time together as well.&lt;br /&gt;14) Dream job? Never having been one, I can say I'd love to be a book editor.  Course, reality might be different than what I think it is.&lt;br /&gt;15) Dream car?  Any safe one that's free and has unlimited maintenance and warranty would be great.&lt;br /&gt;16) Favorite channel? FoodNetwork&lt;br /&gt;17) Favorite place to go on weekends? To the mall or a playground with Blue and Little Blue.&lt;br /&gt;18) Showers or Baths? Long, long foamy whirlpooly baths with plenty of hot water to maintain the warmth.&lt;br /&gt;19) Do you paint your nails? Toenails? Nope.&lt;br /&gt;20) What do you like the most about yourself? I feel like I'm a good mother, and I'm proud of that.&lt;br /&gt;21) What do you like the least?  My body shape.&lt;br /&gt;22) Do you trust people easily? I used to.  Maybe I still do in comparison to other people who trust even less than me, but I feel like I trust people much less than I did a few years ago.  I've gotten very tired of being deceived, and more than a little bit cynical about it.&lt;br /&gt;23) What are your phobias? spiders&lt;br /&gt;24) Do you want kids? I wanted the one that I have more dearly than anything else I've ever wanted.  If I ever want one that strongly again, we'll think about having another.&lt;br /&gt;25) Do you keep a handwritten journal? I used to.&lt;br /&gt;26) Where would you rather be right now? Playing Robin Hood. :p&lt;br /&gt;27) Who would you like to be more honest with? my employers, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;28) Who makes you feel guilty? What I perceive as other people making me feel guilty i.e. my husband or sometimes his family is often just a projection of my own self-generated guilt.&lt;br /&gt;29) Are you a heavy or light sleeper? Closer to heavy than light.&lt;br /&gt;30) Are you paranoid? I'm starting to be, particularly about some politically-charged issues that have been coming up at work lately.&lt;br /&gt;31) Are you impatient? With everything and everyone except my son.&lt;br /&gt;32) Who can you relate to? My husband and some of my closest coworkers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113807733911363574?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113807733911363574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113807733911363574' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113807733911363574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113807733911363574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/01/survey-part-deux.html' title='Survey, Part Deux'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113807564320081008</id><published>2006-01-23T21:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T22:07:23.216-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Because Blue got away with it, and besides I'm a hopeless conformist when it comes to these darn surveys...</title><content type='html'>1. Name three things you can't live without: My family, my roots/memories of home, and my sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;2. If you could hang out for a night with any fictional character, who would it be? Polgara the Sorceress.&lt;br /&gt;3. As a kid, what did you want to be when you grow up? A district attorney, always, from like, age 5.&lt;br /&gt;4. Right now what do you want to be when you grow up? First of all I'm as grown up right now as I EVER want to be, and second, I don't think I'm doing what I really want to do in terms of a career.  But more importantly I am a wife and mother, and that IS what I most wanted to be.&lt;br /&gt;5. What song always makes you cry? "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World"&lt;br /&gt;6. What's the best advice you've ever been given? off the top of my head, "Don't believe everything you see, and only half of what you hear."&lt;br /&gt;7. Are you a good liar? No, I'm a horrible liar.  I have a saying.  Gullible people can't lie.  We believe everyone else is as transparent as we are.  If we were capable of lying with any skill, we'd be able to tell when others lied to us.&lt;br /&gt;8. What still surprises you about your life? That I am so far from being what I thought I should/could/would be at this stage of my life, and yet so happy so much of the time.&lt;br /&gt;9. What quality can make you instantly connect to someone? A sense of humor similar to my own.&lt;br /&gt;10. What turns you off right away? Smoking&lt;br /&gt;11. What's really difficult for you? Setting boundaries i.e. saying NO when I'm overwhelmed, and asking for help.&lt;br /&gt;12. What do you wish you'd done differently? My college years.&lt;br /&gt;13. Desert island picks? Is it cheating to say a solar-powered distress beacon and a bountiful supply of food that tastes better than bugs and roots??  Okay if the answer has to be all survivoresque, then I'd say a good knife, a box of brand new lighters, and a plastic tarp.&lt;br /&gt;14. Favorite spot at home? Snuggled up on the couch with my arm around my son watching toddlervision.&lt;br /&gt;15. What emotion motivates too many of your actions? Frustrated, resigned but resentful acceptance of an increasingly lousy situation at work.&lt;br /&gt;16. Favorite kind of extreme weather? I don't like extreme weather.  I like a good breeze, a light fluffy snow, a gentle rain, and lazy summer heat, but I don't like any of those things when they occur in the extreme.&lt;br /&gt;17. Do you have any recurring dreams? Yes, but I can only remember what it is for a day or two after I have an occurence of it.&lt;br /&gt;18. Psychic or shrink? My horoscope thinks I'm psychic, but I'm not, so that leaves shrink I suppose.  It makes sense when considering I spent half my teenage years in therapy.&lt;br /&gt;19. Vintage or modern? I prefer most things modern.&lt;br /&gt;20. Do you ever scream? Only on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;21. What are you most afraid of? Financial insecurity and having something bad happen to my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113807564320081008?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113807564320081008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113807564320081008' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113807564320081008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113807564320081008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/01/because-blue-got-away-with-it-and.html' title='Because Blue got away with it, and besides I&apos;m a hopeless conformist when it comes to these darn surveys...'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113669680529777291</id><published>2006-01-07T22:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T23:06:45.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How Happily Ever After is Done, Pamphlet-style</title><content type='html'>This is the post you've all been waiting for. The one-time-only, big ticket reveal of the Pamphlet secret that just might be the biggest reason for the successful relationships Blue and I have shared as a married couple and as parents. There's more, of course, but this single activity, in my belief, carries a large share of the credit for the almost charmed existence we live. Are you ready?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so simple it seems ridiculous that it could be so important, but it was. For the first year or two of our dating relationship, Blue and I spent many long hours playing what we call The Question Game. The rules are easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Play any game you want in which there is a clear winner. We used Scrabble, Go Fish, Poker*, Chess, Trivial Pursuit, rummy, and many others.&lt;br /&gt;2. The winner of each game/round/hand gets to ask the loser 1 question. ANY question. And the loser MUST answer, and must answer honestly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See how simple that is? And yet so profound. It transformed our dating years into one giant, fun-filled interview for Who Wants to be Married Happily Ever After. Through that game we explored our childhoods, our morals, our beliefs and convictions, the kind of spouses and parents we wanted to become, how we would handle challenging issues as a couple and as a family. We grew to understand how each of us thought in different ways but could arrive at compatible conclusions, and it taught us how to argue/disagree with respect and love. We got to know each other so deeply we knew what the other thought, dreamed about, hoped for, was ashamed of, liked, hated, and desired. The Question Game had no boundaries, no off-limits zone. We talked about our most embarrassing moments, our sexual fantasies and fears, our views on religion and on politics. We even questioned each other about what values we wanted to pass on to our future children regarding sex/abstinence, religious tolerance, and how we feel about drug use. And while (of course) we didn't come up with all the "right" or "perfect" answers for how to live our lives together, we learned invaluable lessons about how to communicate together and relate to each other. It opened our eyes and hearts and got us off to a good start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does this mean to all of you? Maybe nothing. But maybe there's a way our game can be incorporated in your current or future relationships. Invent your own version, whether you're in a new relationship or one that's well established. I'm fairly sure it can't do any harm, and it might do a little bit of good, or else just be good plain fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Intimate couples: for a really revealing night of Question Game, trying playing it with Strip Poker! Somebody will be baring more than just their soul that night! ;-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113669680529777291?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113669680529777291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113669680529777291' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113669680529777291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113669680529777291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/01/how-happily-ever-after-is-done.html' title='How Happily Ever After is Done, Pamphlet-style'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113665051217438064</id><published>2006-01-07T10:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-07T10:15:12.186-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On My Own</title><content type='html'>Tonight, for the first time in two years, I will spend the night alone.  The first time in all of Little Blue's short life that I will have been away from him overnight.  He has gone with daddy to a family member's wedding out of town, and I have stayed home to catch up on some work at the office and have some time to myself.  I am conflicted.  The parts of me that know I really need to get that work done and that it's healthy for me to want time for myself are at war with the parts of me that hate working on my personal time and would rather be anywhere with Blue and Little Blue than be here without them.  So the whole weekend is likely to be wishy-washy, back-and-forth, like-it-and-hate-it.  I can't wait to truly sleep in tomorrow morning, and I can't wait for them to come back tomorrow night.  I dread spending five or six hours alone in my office doing boring work I don't really enjoy, and I look forward to spending an evening of watching whatever I want on television and reading books without pictures and snuggling with kitty.  And calling my Blues to see how their day was and tell them good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113665051217438064?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113665051217438064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113665051217438064' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113665051217438064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113665051217438064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2006/01/on-my-own.html' title='On My Own'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113590978097494874</id><published>2005-12-29T19:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T20:29:40.993-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Down and Dirty</title><content type='html'>There is nothing like a bout of stomach flu to reduce an otherwise confident adult into a sniffling child who wants her mommie.  If you have a weak stomach or are eating right now, please skip this post.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday started out much like any other, with the jarring exception of me waking up at 3am having to go potty.  You know, #2.  Not a big deal, really.  Got up, did the dirty duty, and went back to bed.  Not ten minutes later, major #2 emergency sensations send me running back to the bathroom.  Hmmm.  I begin to ponder my previous day's meals.  Five minutes later, I am still on the toilet, and feeling that special, shivery-cold far-away feeling I get right before I faint.  I immediately call for back-up.  I mean, who wants to pass out on the toilet at the same time as they're going #2??  &lt;br /&gt;"[Blue's name omitted for privacy]!!!"&lt;br /&gt;Blue: "Uh?!"  He wakes up groggily.  I make piteous noises.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm in the bathroom, and I feel faint."  My hero rushes into the bathroom, holds my hand, and lets me lean against his tummy.  By the way, if anyone ever doubted, I &lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; the tummy.  The tummy is MINE.  &lt;br /&gt;Anyways, Blue says comforting words and brings me cold water to drink and a damp cloth for my forehead.  I continue to sit on the toilet and have diarrhea for another 30 minutes.  This, I think, feels so awful.  But then it's over, and we go back to bed, until the alarm goes off, which is not very much later.  We discuss my work schedule for the day and decide 2 immodiums and toughing it out are my best options.  I have unavoidable obligations at work, I say.  So off I go.  At work, I have three more miserable visits to the toilet before I discover, around 9am, that my unavoidable obligations are actually Thursday, not Wednesday.  I promptly let my supervisor know I would like to go home, and he gladly sends me that direction.  Except Blue's car is in the shop, and he has an off-site meeting that afternoon.  So he needs my car.  So I call and leave a message on his voice mail that I'm on my way, and head to the library.  When I get there, as I knew he would be because he told me about it [good boy!] Blue was doing meet-and-greet duty with some volunteers.  Only he wasn't quite done when he thought he would be, so I needed to wait for him a bit longer.  But my gut said nooooo.  Back to the bathroom I go.  More diarrhea.  I am beyond suspicion of my recent meals and have concluded I must have the stomach flu that's been going around my office.  When I finish with that, I go back to the lobby.  Still no Blue.  I sit and wait.  And fidget.  And feel cold and shivery again.  And get a nauseous feeling in my tummy.  I have not vomited in years, I tell myself.  I never vomit.  I hate vomiting.  There is no way I could possibly be about to vomit in the library.  I wait.  The feeling grows stronger.  It is superceded by the time-to-go diarrhea feeling.  I head for the bathroom.  Enter the stall.  The handicap one, since it's available, even though you're supposed to leave it open for possible handicapped people who happen by, I use it anyway cause it has more room.  Which turned out to be my saving grace.  Because when you're sitting on the toilet emitting diarrhea and suddenly begin to vomit, there's no where to put it.  You're already on the toilet.  I look around in desperation.  No regular trash can, that would be too merciful.  There is only a wall-mounted sanitary napkin trash bin with a tiny paper bag in it.  I am desperate, what else can I do?  So I grab the bag out of the sanitary napkin bin.  And oh yes, it is not empty either.  And I puke in it.  If only that were the end of the story it would be bad enough.  But no.  The sanitary napkin bag is not big enough for my stomach contents.  It quickly fills and I have no choice but to drop it and continue puking all over the floor next to the toilet.  By now I am crying.  I am humiliated, disgusted, and the sickest I have been in all my memory.  My stomach muscles ache from the rigors of wretching.  My hands shake so much I can barely manage to clean both ends of me and make my way to the sinks to wash.  Then there is the walk of shame.  I have to walk to the circulation desk and confess that I've been sick on the bathroom floor, request clean-up assistance, and humbly ask that my husband be paged to the front so I can finally leave.  Then I return to the scene of the crime and try to put down some paper towels, but the mess is beyond my ability to tidy up.  I have to leave it for the janitorial staff.  I feel guilty as well as sick.  At last, Blue rescues me and quickly walks me outside.  I cry again, tell him what I did, he says it's okay and leads me to the car.  Then my hero drives me home, takes me upstairs, helps me to bed, brings me ice water, a back-up glass of ice, the cordless phone, and a book.  Lays down with me until I calm down and become sleepy.  Promises, at my request, to apologize to the poor janitor who had to clean up my awful mess.  Says he'll bring them doughnuts the next day.  And heads back to work.  I spend the entire rest of the day either in bed or on the toilet.  I call my mommie, and tell her my horrible adventure.  She comforts me, and wishes she were closer, as I do.  I think no matter how old I am I will always wish for my mommie when I am sick.  Mercifully, that public display of affliction was the only time I vomited yesterday, but the diarrhea was bad enough on its own.  I did not eat again until supper time, when I sampled some lightly buttered toast, and on keeping that down, fixed myself a grilled cheese sandwich with chicken soup for dinner.  And when I woke up this morning, I felt fine.  It truly was only a 24-hour bug, but those 24 hours sure were bad!  Today I am a humbler, and more grateful person, to say the least.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113590978097494874?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113590978097494874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113590978097494874' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113590978097494874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113590978097494874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/12/down-and-dirty.html' title='Down and Dirty'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113193616185157615</id><published>2005-11-13T20:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-13T20:42:41.876-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of The Mouths of Babes</title><content type='html'>This weekend was a particularly rich one for comical Little Bluisms.  That little guy just has no end of bizarre or cute things to say.  Some just make you shake your head in confusion and laugh.  Like earlier today when he said, "Mommie, I talk to you."  And then I did what a lot of parents seem to do in my situation, which is repeat what we think our toddler said by way of confirming whether we translated their babble correctly. "You want to talk to Mommie?" I smiled at him.  With a perfectly straight face, he replied, "No."  "Oh..." was all I could say in return, whilst Daddy Blue had a jolly good belly laugh over it.&lt;br /&gt;Then there was dinner.  We were having something homemade, what I would consider to be much better than fast food fare i.e. hamburgers and fries.  I had made pork chops, delicately seasoned in a sweet/savory mixture of Chinese Five Spice and our favorite Santa Maria (garlic, salt, pepper, and parsley) blend.  These were served up with some lemon peppered green beans and Stove Top stuffing.  Blue and I thought it was delicious.  Little Blue thought it needed several tablespoons of ketchup.  There's just no accounting for taste!&lt;br /&gt;But the crown jewel was our after-dinner, after-driving-around-to-see-if-Papa-Blue-was-stranded-on-the-side-of-the-road-and-discovering-he-was-safe-at-home-sleeping ice cream treat.  Little Blue's chocolate custard is in one of our plastic cereal bowls.  He eats it all by himself with a spoon.  He's delighted.  Until he finds a monster in it.  We assure him there is no monster in the ice cream because monsters aren't real.  He persists. &lt;br /&gt;"No Mommie, monster!  Monster real, Mommie! A real monster!"  He points emphatically at the ice cream with his plastic spoon, which flings melted ice cream onto the table.  I look closely in the bowl.  &lt;br /&gt;"There's no monster in there," I assure him.  "I'll show you."  I borrow his spoon and stir up all his ice cream, to remove any monster shapes from it's creamy structure.  &lt;br /&gt;"What doing?" he says with interest.  &lt;br /&gt;"I'm stirring your ice cream."&lt;br /&gt;"Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"To show you that there aren't any monsters in it."&lt;br /&gt;"Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"So you won't be afraid of it."  &lt;br /&gt;"Why?"  Isn't &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; obvious to this child??&lt;br /&gt;"So you'll eat it," I reply with remarkable (for me) patience.  I hand his spoon back to him.  He half-heartedly pushes it through the ice cream to get a bite, and then drops the spoon in the bowl in alarm.&lt;br /&gt;"There it is, there it is Mommie!  Monster!"  He pushes the bowl across the table toward me.  "I don't wanna eat it Mommie, I don't wanna eatda monster."  &lt;br /&gt;I am completely baffled.  "What monster??"  He uses the spoon to point to it.  It's none other than the bottom of his bowl, which curves upward and is showing through his ice cream in the very center of the bowl.  Daddy Blue and I make what could have been a classic parenting mistake:  we bust up laughing. Fortunately, Little Blue takes this abuse rather well, and is reassured when I tell him the monster is just the bottom of his bowl, so he finishes his ice cream like a champ.  &lt;br /&gt;Then we all troop upstairs to spend a few minutes in the bathroom while Little Blue sits buck naked on his very own potty chair for the first time.  We read the potty book with the flushing toilet sound effects.  Little Blue toots in the potty, which we consider to be a good start, and after waiting awhile to see if any actual pottying will occur, we pull up the real, cotton, big-boy underpants and put the little guy to bed, while visions of exciting potty milestones and messy potty accidents dance in our heads.  It's a wonderful life. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113193616185157615?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113193616185157615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113193616185157615' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113193616185157615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113193616185157615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/11/out-of-mouths-of-babes.html' title='Out of The Mouths of Babes'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113142575452345124</id><published>2005-11-07T22:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-11-07T22:55:54.536-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Please allow me a girlish moment of romanticism...</title><content type='html'>It's easy to let the blog become a place of passive complaint.  So let me break from that for a moment here, to express some good old fashioned sentimentality.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still feel a swell of love every time I hear the song played that we danced to at our wedding.  It's all I can do not to sing along whenever I hear the song I used to sing him on the phone before we were geographically together.  I still have memorized how to play "our song" on the piano.  Thinking about the two times he proposed to me brings a tear to my eyes.  And I melt inside when he pays me one of his truly good compliments, like when he says I looked delicious in my Halloween outfit.  He's still the best Sunday morning snuggler I know, even if now we have an extra body giggling between us and begging us to "Wake up! Wake up! I wan' go downstairs and play!"  Whatever little quirks, whatever annoyances, or silly arguments, or dumb things we each get mad at, he's still the best partner I've ever had or imagined, in every way.  We may have picked each other last, after trying other relationships first, but then again, life's little treasures are always in the last place you look, aren't they?  ;)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now you know that no matter how much I complain about anything, it's all just smoke and steam off the fire of a much deeper and more important emotion.  'Nuff said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113142575452345124?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113142575452345124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113142575452345124' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113142575452345124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113142575452345124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/11/please-allow-me-girlish-moment-of.html' title='Please allow me a girlish moment of romanticism...'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-113020990678641366</id><published>2005-10-24T21:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-24T22:11:46.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wicked Witch of the Midwest</title><content type='html'>So, from out of nowhere (I swear) a reputation for ill-temper seems to have been cultivated about me.  Well okay it's not &lt;em&gt;completely&lt;/em&gt; from nowhere. I think it might be connected to my lack of receptiveness to last minute social plans - and I use the word "plans" loosely - that are the preferred method of gathering for my dear inlaws.  Leaving a message on the wrong person's cell phone a couple of hours before a dinner outing that specifies a location but not a precise time and no central rally point is the sort of "planning" they are fond of.  These chaotic rendezvous make me crazy, partly because of my own neurotic needs such as always being early and not backtracking while driving to a destination, both of which rules are violated by the surprise change of location at the last minute or the lack of information about the correct time to arrive, etc.  While I recognize that most people do not suffer from the need to conform to these guidelines the way that I do, I think the vast majority of us do at least prefer that some degree of forethought and communication precede family gatherings that involve multiple family units traveling to a single location via separate vehicles from different points of origin.  I don't think it's terribly unreasonable to expect these two basics to be established in advance:  time and place.  I've certainly wasted enough hours keeping my schedule open for tentative last minute plans and waiting around for late family members to show up to have earned the right to be irritated.  But my frustration over numerous poorly-executed meetings has somehow translated into a reputation for being a grumpy woman who never wants to get together with the family and always has to be coerced into attending and will instantly veto any suggestion involving spontaneous activities.  This was painfully illustrated this weekend when several family members in attendance at a wedding celebration suggested going out to a relative's new restaurant in a town an hour away at the spur of the moment.  When I immediately agreed to go along, I was met with several stunned looks and a fair degree of amazement.  They seriously expected me to go off the deep end.  And I have to say that Mr. Blue does absolutely nothing to dissuade his relatives of their conclusions about me.  Not only does he repeatedly keep his mouth shut even when he agrees or is as frustrated as I am, making it look like I'm the only bad guy, he also reinforces my bad reputation by making pessimistic assumptions about my reaction to a suggestion.  His family, who goes to him first as the conduit to me because I am so difficult to please, presents the idea to him, and he says, "Well I already know the answer but I'll ask her anyway."  Why don't they tape a sign to my back that says "Beware of Bitch" and be done with it?  And what am I to do to keep the peace?  Shut up, go with the flow, and pretend not to be bothered by all the inconveniences I suppose.  It's not as if we don't all enjoy each other when we finally all get to where we're supposed to be.  We have lots of fun, and lots of affection for each other.  It seems hopeless to think these events will ever be better planned.  Even if I plan the whole thing myself and tell them to be there earlier than I actually want them to come, they will manage to be late.  It runs in the blood, I see the tendencies in Mr. Blue and I'm sure they've been passed on to Little Blue, as it is clearly a dominant trait in this family.  But I hate that being the only one raised with a different approach to organization makes me the bad apple. It's hard enough to mix families together without them all thinking you're impossible to get along with.  And hard enough to be so far from my own family and our traditions without having to face these situations without any help from the one person among them who is supposed to be my teammate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-113020990678641366?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/113020990678641366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=113020990678641366' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113020990678641366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/113020990678641366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/10/wicked-witch-of-midwest.html' title='Wicked Witch of the Midwest'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112782755508048374</id><published>2005-09-27T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-27T08:40:30.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahoy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="position:relative; border:1px #320 solid; background-color:#c9b390; padding:0 10px; width:400px; text-align:center; font-family:serif; left:50%; margin:25px 0 25px -200px; color:#320;"&gt;     My pirate name is:    &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div style="font-size:32px;"&gt;    Captain Anne Cash   &lt;br&gt;&lt;div style="font-size:16px;"&gt; Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. You're musical, and you've got a certain style if not flair. You'll do just fine.    Arr!    &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.fidius.org/quiz/pirate/" style=" width:100%; left:0px; bottom:20px; color:#f8eecc;"&gt;Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.&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/14328180-112782755508048374?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112782755508048374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112782755508048374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112782755508048374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112782755508048374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/09/ahoy.html' title='Ahoy!'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112614354604738178</id><published>2005-09-07T20:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-07T20:39:06.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cat vs. Baby - The score is tied, I think...</title><content type='html'>Little Blue got a haircut yesterday.  With his hair grown out a bit, he looks more babyish, I guess because of his adorable curls.  But now, all trimmed up neat and tidy, he's still totally adorable but looks like a little boy, a &lt;em&gt;child&lt;/em&gt;, instead of a toddler or baby.  This is accentuated by the fact that he has lost much of his baby fat that rounded out his cheeks and chin.  His slender face makes him look older, more grown up.  I am at once charmed and dismayed by this transformation.  His maturing is of course delightful, accompanied as it is by an expanded vocabulary, more refined sense of humor and of compassion, and more willingness to focus and play interactively with us.  At the same time, though, these developments signal the end of his babyhood, and brings into sharp focus that should we decide not to have any more children, we will never see these precious days again.  It's a choice that looms over us in the background, a shadowy corner in our bright happy days that we try not to think about, but the time to decide draws ever nearer.  Every time we discuss it I seem to have changed sides in the debate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the kitty issue.  Guen, nicknamed Little Girl, has never had a very high opinion of our human offspring.  In the beginning, he was like part of the furniture, just another warm, cuddly squishy thing in our laps to lay down on.  A few scoops and swats that sent her flying soon disabused her of that misconception and firmly implanted its terrible replacement ideology:  the human child was an evil usurper who robbed her of our affections and should be hunted down and maimed at any available opportunity.  Forced separations, time outs, begging, scolding, and swatting have not been able to uproot her foul outlook.  Little Girl has taken up the habit of coaxing the child to play, then suddenly springing up to bite him.  Little Blue has, through his amazing observational powers, quickly learned the fine art of scolding.  Once bitten, he alternates between his two favorite behavioral responses:  run and tattle to get kitty in trouble, or shortcut to chasing kitty down and scolding her himself, shouting "No no! Bad ditty! NO BITE!" and pointing his righteous finger of accusation in her face.  Which she, of course, bites.  For most people it is obvious that the cat has got to go.  She's misbehaving, resists rehabilitation and shows no signs of improving in the future.  She has even resorted to spiteful acts of urination on occasion. But for us, who adopted her as a kitten in the aftermath of the heartwrenching proclamation that we would not be able to have children, Little Girl is more daughter than pet, and the prospect of giving her away even to the best of homes is almost unbearable.  We feel responsible for her unhappiness and her bad behavior, and it's hard to tell whether letting her go would only be a worse punishment or a welcome relief for her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so we delay, in both cases.  There is still a two or maybe as much as three year window of opportunity within which we could decide to have another baby.  And the days with kitty just seem to slip by, and not &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; of them are marred by incidents of biting or bad behaviors.  We tell ourselves to watch a little closer, and we tell Little Blue not to play with the grumpy kitty, and try to believe that if we can just get through these toddler years, Little Blue will be wiser to kitty's body language and less interested in her, too.  Maybe then we won't have to think about giving her up at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless we have  another baby...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-112614354604738178?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112614354604738178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112614354604738178' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112614354604738178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112614354604738178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/09/cat-vs-baby-score-is-tied-i-think.html' title='Cat vs. Baby - The score is tied, I think...'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112451223054558107</id><published>2005-08-19T23:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-19T23:30:30.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grace</title><content type='html'>Tuesday I lost my grandmother.  When we are as old as our parents, or maybe older, we view death with a certain wisdom, a knowledge of the circle our lives must make to return us to whatever you believe our beginnings were, but as youths we're a bit too "in the moment" for that kind of transcendent acceptance, as I discovered this week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my arrogant forethought on the matter, I viewed my grandmother's progression toward death with a kind of detached logic.  She had lived a good long life, aged gracefully, and seemed prepared for her imminent departure to the next world.  I knew her death would be gentle, peaceful, not sudden, but soon.  Knowing ahead meant I felt ready.  That I would accept the news with dignity, in complete control of my feelings, which would be a mixture of appropriate sadness and delicate relief at her release from the tiredness and weakness of age.  Labeling my emotions in advance made them fit easily into manageable portions.  There would be no awkward scene, no blubbering.  I was ready to let go of her, I was sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How utterly ridiculous of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I miss you, Phyllis Grace.  Watch over my son, that he might know your love.  Peace be with you.  Peace be with us all.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-112451223054558107?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112451223054558107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112451223054558107' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112451223054558107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112451223054558107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/08/grace.html' title='Grace'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112113948423251334</id><published>2005-07-11T22:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T22:38:04.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anger Management</title><content type='html'>When I am calm and tranquil, able to step outside the narrow realm of my own perspective and view myself and others somewhat objectively, I am fascinated with the study of this powerful emotion.  Anger is such a fluid, versatile, and multi-faceted state of being.  It can ebb and flow like a tide, or come crushing and terrible out of nowhere like an uncharted asteroid, fiery and disastrous.  Then again sometimes it is slow and noisy, grumbling louder and louder until the breaking point like a summer storm. &lt;br /&gt;"When I was a child...I thought as a child..."  In childhood "angry" was almost like a bad word.  I would only ever say I was "mad" and even that was a reluctant admission.  As an adult, armed with my pink pamphlet's chapter on self-validation, I have no such inhibitions.  I get angry, more easily than when I was a child even.  But when I get angry, my mouth opens.  I don't like to keep it inside, it's like hot gas expanding in an enclosed space - best to open things up before the explosion comes.  Alone, amazingly colorful, sharp words and thoughts spring out of me, that I would have been shocked to hear anyone say fifteen years ago.  But somehow they empower me, and take the pressure off the boiler, so to speak.  After that, I still want to talk, but constructively about the problem, rather than just spitting out descriptive words that convey emotion without ideas.  This confounds the Blue Pamphlet on soooo many levels.  First, his number one instruction in that little manual of his is FIX IT.  Whatever it is, whoever it is, FIX IT and move on.  But Pinks don't like being fixed.  We find fixing to be antagonistic and insulting.  It implies we can't do it ourselves, and that someone else can do it better.  It doesn't lend itself to the impression that genuine listening and validation is occurring in our interaction with Blue.  Second problem, when FIXING fails, Blue Pamphlet's very next cardinal rule to follow is:  SAY WHAT SHE WANTS TO HEAR.  Maybe this works for some of you out there.  If so, I congratulate you.  Or pity you.  I'm not sure which.  But I can tell you this doesn't work for Blue and I, because we spent so much of our dating years talking, really truly talking, that we now see right through each other whenever we attempt any kind of half-assed smooth-over strategy instead of being genuine.  So my poor Blue, who knows that telling me what I want to hear will never work, is left with nothing else to do but clam up and hope for the best.  And despite all the terrific definitions and explanations in the Pink dictionary and the Chapter about "Teaching Guys How to Talk" I still can't seem to explain exactly what I'm looking for from him in those conversations.  Some kind of mixture of listening, having an opinion, making suggestions but not overbearingly fixing the problem for me.... It's an ideal almost impossible to achieve.  Then there's Blue's anger.  He keeps that to himself better than his most private computer passwords, and for a geek that's saying something.  Half the time I can't tell which of us he's ticked at, me or himself.  Or both.  Unfortunately it means most Pink and Blue arguments end either in silence until our moods improve or else we end up just laughing and agreeing that we just can't figure each other out on this one.  Not very good for resolving the heart of the conflict, but at least we feel better sooner or later.  And even though there are many things we can't seem to agree on, things we don't "get" about each other, I still think we know each other better than almost any other completely opposite beings could possibly know each other, and no matter how confused, we're pretty far ahead in the great game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-112113948423251334?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112113948423251334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112113948423251334' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112113948423251334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112113948423251334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/07/anger-management.html' title='Anger Management'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112096788649458327</id><published>2005-07-09T22:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-09T22:58:06.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Credit where credit is due</title><content type='html'>My husband says he wasn't the first to come up with this whole pamphlet idea.  He thinks he might have seen a comedian talk about it or something like that.  Anyone who actually knows the truth about it is welcome to post it for the rest of us. &lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the pamphlets, specifically the blue one... Today my husband and his father installed a trailer hitch with electrical wiring on our yuppiemobile (aka minivan).  They got really dirty, and were pretty proud of themselves, spending quite a few minutes after they were finished with the installation describing how it went to me, accompanied by manly gestures, sports analogies ("We were fishing for the wire...") and, of course, grunt sounds.  Fortunately, I know enough from the pink pamphlet to respond to this behavior correctly:  I smiled appreciatively, said "Wow!" and "Really!" a few times, applauded along with our toddler, who loves to clap his hands, and indicated with my facial expressions and body language that my husband was now even more macho in my eyes after having completed this man-task for me.  I think we both got what we wanted from that particular communication exchange.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-112096788649458327?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112096788649458327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112096788649458327' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112096788649458327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112096788649458327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/07/credit-where-credit-is-due.html' title='Credit where credit is due'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112096619108168980</id><published>2005-07-09T22:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-09T22:29:51.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever get that...not so fresh feeling?  Keep it to yourself!</title><content type='html'>I can almost guarantee you will not want to talk about it, and no one else wants to hear about it either.  Furthermore, we do not want to watch commercials about it, or any other awkward, embarrassing femmy product on the market.  There ought to be laws against subjecting innocent civilians to this kind of thing!  Just this evening my husband and I were enjoying a humorous evening of watching "Whose Line is it Anyway" when suddenly our delicate sensibilities were assaulted by a bizarre commercial featuring exotic flowers on a box of feminine....&lt;em&gt;somethings.&lt;/em&gt;  Honestly, we're not sure what the boxes contained, that wasn't really mentioned in the ad.  But we know there were pretty flowers on the outside of the &lt;u&gt;package&lt;/u&gt;, which seemed to be the star of the show.  As these things go, it was a fairly low-blush factor commercial, and there are some that are far worse.  You know the kind I'm talking about.  The Blue Liquid line of feminine product commercials, guaranteed to bring you mental images of things you would rather not imagine.  They have achieved what I hope is the pinnacle of their yucky powers in the creation of the "Sticky Feeling" commercial.  They should show that thing to sexual predators in prison.  After watching it, how could anyone want to go near a woman ever again? &lt;br /&gt;Right up there with the girly product ads are the ones about certain bodily functions we will not mention here.  Let's just say &lt;em&gt;regularity&lt;/em&gt; is a topic best left to private examining rooms in doctors' offices, and not on national television.  And I don't know any woman who would actually hand her husband a box of that product with the name showing in front of a plane full of gawking passengers.  After all, there's a limited number of bathrooms and typically only one way to get back to your seat.  Talk about a walk of shame.  Folks, if you seriously find yourself wondering about these products, do us all a favor.  Read the package labels in the store.  Preferably alone.  Consult with the pharmacist.  But for pete's sake wait till I'm done paying for my uh... girly items.  It's hard enough to bring them to the counter to buy without having you walk up right at that moment to ask about your....&lt;em&gt;symptoms.&lt;/em&gt;  Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-112096619108168980?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112096619108168980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112096619108168980' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112096619108168980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112096619108168980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/07/ever-get-thatnot-so-fresh-feeling-keep.html' title='Ever get that...not so fresh feeling?  Keep it to yourself!'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14328180.post-112088137796007131</id><published>2005-07-08T23:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-08T23:21:17.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Salutations</title><content type='html'>First things first. I hate pink. But it is overwhelmingly associated with girlhood, so there you have it. The Pink Pamphlet is that mystical guidebook inherited by all women from their mothers, grandmothers, aunts, gal pals, etc. that imparts to them the secrets of all things &lt;em&gt;feminine&lt;/em&gt;. It's how we know.... everything.&lt;br /&gt;Confession time: I was not the first person to iconify this concept of universal female knowledge into a tidy little booklet idea. As far as I know, my husband was the inventor of the notion. For more on his side of the story, you can consult him at his own blog, which is of course, The Blue Pamphlet. But this one is for me. And it's not just for girls to read. Obviously, women are very good at sharing their feelings and experiences with each other. We're famous for it. No, the only ones who really stand to gain from an insider's peek into the female mind are guys. So read up, gentlemen. I promise to be brutally honest, girl scout's honor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidentally, I did not last one entire year in the girl scout's. By the time I got started in it I was too far gone in my tomboyish ways to ever be recalled back to tiny pleated green skirts and baking cookies. But my promise is still good, don't worry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14328180-112088137796007131?l=pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/feeds/112088137796007131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14328180&amp;postID=112088137796007131' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112088137796007131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14328180/posts/default/112088137796007131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pinkpamphlet.blogspot.com/2005/07/salutations.html' title='Salutations'/><author><name>Mrs C</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07856216987373433460</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
