<?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-6501956836972881241</id><updated>2012-01-01T17:26:32.703-06:00</updated><category term='Pakistan'/><category term='K2'/><category term='education'/><category term='Afghanistan'/><category term='peace'/><category term='framily'/><title type='text'>Kate Writes....</title><subtitle type='html'>Feels Like Home...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5981733202180864815</id><published>2008-05-08T07:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T07:59:40.122-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoes and Puppies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCL5CWbymSI/AAAAAAAAAI0/jtG0kHAl3Q4/s1600-h/kids+060.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197990738716170530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCL5CWbymSI/AAAAAAAAAI0/jtG0kHAl3Q4/s320/kids+060.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCL5CmbymTI/AAAAAAAAAI8/7pwfTGl9CsA/s1600-h/Kona.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197990743011137842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCL5CmbymTI/AAAAAAAAAI8/7pwfTGl9CsA/s320/Kona.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, these are the BC slip-ons from Nordstrom I'm wearing today...they are super-comfy and again go with the t shirt I have to wear on Thursdays. :) The other picture includes shoes AND my new baby! The shoes are my orange and white Asics that I wear to cross country meets and to do yard york. The cute little roly poly is Kona, our new chocolate lab. Yay for puppies!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5981733202180864815?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5981733202180864815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5981733202180864815' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5981733202180864815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5981733202180864815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/05/shoes-and-puppies.html' title='Shoes and Puppies'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCL5CWbymSI/AAAAAAAAAI0/jtG0kHAl3Q4/s72-c/kids+060.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-2062510524192246825</id><published>2008-05-06T14:08:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T14:09:49.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Proof</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCs6Avx3uI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8udXwVy8fZ0/s1600-h/billyhat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197344082618343138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCs6Avx3uI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8udXwVy8fZ0/s320/billyhat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCs6Qvx3vI/AAAAAAAAAIs/fMhO5T5VGtk/s1600-h/Boat+pics+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197344086913310450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCs6Qvx3vI/AAAAAAAAAIs/fMhO5T5VGtk/s320/Boat+pics+007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I wrote about Billy's bday party and here is proof that fun was had by all, especially Billy...what I cropped out of this picture is the look of sheer embarrassment on his wife's face. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-2062510524192246825?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/2062510524192246825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=2062510524192246825' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2062510524192246825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2062510524192246825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/05/proof.html' title='Proof'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCs6Avx3uI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8udXwVy8fZ0/s72-c/billyhat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5292576550241290290</id><published>2008-05-06T11:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T11:10:53.069-05:00</updated><title type='text'>OK OK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCC8Qvx3tI/AAAAAAAAAIc/AxXvWovazGc/s1600-h/white+flops.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197297941784682194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCC8Qvx3tI/AAAAAAAAAIc/AxXvWovazGc/s320/white+flops.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I abandoned the shoe challenge for a week because really, all I wanted to wear was flip flops, or my gold gladiators, which have already been posted. But, I'm back on track. These white flips flops are vintage Target....circa 1990 or so. I found them at our lake house stuffed under a bunch of cleans linens and immediately snatched them up. I find that some of my favorite items of clothing have been found there, left by some distant family member to be found by me, years later, to enjoy. My vintage blue Lacoste shirt, the old red Adidas shorts, Trey's 1970's Hawaii shirt, Trey's grandad Doc's cowboy hat...all amazing. Everyone should have their own personal thrift store!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These aren't as cute against the blue utility carpet of my classroom as they are with flipped up jeans and a little white Mexican blouse...but you get the picture...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5292576550241290290?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5292576550241290290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5292576550241290290' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5292576550241290290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5292576550241290290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/05/ok-ok.html' title='OK OK'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SCCC8Qvx3tI/AAAAAAAAAIc/AxXvWovazGc/s72-c/white+flops.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-489775616913129127</id><published>2008-05-05T13:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T14:12:48.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6 Things</title><content type='html'>I've been tagged....yay!!  Thanks &lt;a href="http://chickbug.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chickbug&lt;/a&gt;!  Here's 6 random tidbits about me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the details:&lt;br /&gt;- Post the rules on your blog&lt;br /&gt;- Write six random things about yourself in a blog post&lt;br /&gt;- Tag six (or 4, in this case) people in your post&lt;br /&gt;- Let each person know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog&lt;br /&gt;- Let the tagger know your entry is up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I spent the day on the lake yesterday celebrating Billy's Cinco de Mayo birthday and had a blast!  I laughed every time I looked at Billy wearing his sombrero and was thankful MY birthday is not on a day that requires such festive headwear.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I would MUCH rather be at home, working in the garden right now than at work.  Obviously, since I'm posting a blog in the middle of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I am on the hunt for the perfect pair of white jeans right now...and at this point don't care how much I have to pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I am getting a new puppy in a month, a chocolate lab named Kona.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I am counting down the days until we leave for Playa del Carmen even though I'm seriously stressed about the way I look in a swimsuit.  Which reminds me just how much I need to hit the gym the next few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I'm super excited to meet friends tonight for some Tex-Mex and margaritas in honor of the day! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am tagging &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.climbingonthewords.com"&gt;Jess&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://cbrazzellwalker.blogspot.com/"&gt;Carrie&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://areyouwillingtochange.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rachel&lt;/a&gt;, and &lt;a href="http://mdcowley.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mandy&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-489775616913129127?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/489775616913129127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=489775616913129127' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/489775616913129127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/489775616913129127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/05/6-things.html' title='6 Things'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3289731204568339093</id><published>2008-04-28T08:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T08:08:46.559-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a little heavy metal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBXL7wvx3sI/AAAAAAAAAIU/K0-7YMnvCPY/s1600-h/byron+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194281972799758018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBXL7wvx3sI/AAAAAAAAAIU/K0-7YMnvCPY/s320/byron+019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are Michael Antonio from the $4.99 shoe store...which is one of my favorite places on earth! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3289731204568339093?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3289731204568339093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3289731204568339093' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3289731204568339093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3289731204568339093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/little-heavy-metal.html' title='a little heavy metal'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBXL7wvx3sI/AAAAAAAAAIU/K0-7YMnvCPY/s72-c/byron+019.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3454451077320116309</id><published>2008-04-25T14:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T14:53:24.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Come on &amp; Safari with Me....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBI2qwvx3rI/AAAAAAAAAIM/NRFyBc3q42g/s1600-h/moms+bday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193273428579311282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBI2qwvx3rI/AAAAAAAAAIM/NRFyBc3q42g/s320/moms+bday.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are also, wait for it.....from Old Navy! I saw them and immediately snatched them up! Then....only AFTER I bought them....were they featured in last month's In Style...I love when that happens!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3454451077320116309?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3454451077320116309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3454451077320116309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3454451077320116309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3454451077320116309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/come-on-safari-with-me.html' title='Come on &amp; Safari with Me....'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBI2qwvx3rI/AAAAAAAAAIM/NRFyBc3q42g/s72-c/moms+bday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-571335907609442250</id><published>2008-04-24T09:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T10:31:35.601-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who needs yellow patent leather?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBCnxwvx3pI/AAAAAAAAAIA/CCdgfZxoJVA/s1600-h/moms+bday+017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192834843698912914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBCnxwvx3pI/AAAAAAAAAIA/CCdgfZxoJVA/s320/moms+bday+017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me! I found these at Buffalo Exchange, also brand new! I've only worn them twice, but they happen to match the t shirt I have to wear to work every Thursday. I'm not crazy about them...but since I agreed to wear ALL shoes here they are!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-571335907609442250?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/571335907609442250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=571335907609442250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/571335907609442250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/571335907609442250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/who-needs-yellow-patent-leather.html' title='Who needs yellow patent leather?'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBCnxwvx3pI/AAAAAAAAAIA/CCdgfZxoJVA/s72-c/moms+bday+017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4416139469903514791</id><published>2008-04-24T07:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T08:10:47.869-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beagle for Sale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBCG0Avx3nI/AAAAAAAAAH0/0g3LibZDSx8/s1600-h/moms+bday+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192798598469901938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBCG0Avx3nI/AAAAAAAAAH0/0g3LibZDSx8/s200/moms+bday+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh. my. gosh. I have a story that if filmed, would be the perfect sitcom drama. It's one of those funny moments that you think never REALLY happens to someone...but oh, it happened yesterday. So, I'm driving down the road with Duke and Slater on the way to the park. What a good dog parent I am. The windows are down because the day is beautiful...and the dogs are all hanging out the window just....being dogs. When all of a sudden I look down and realize Duke is not sitting in the front seat anymore...I look out the window and see a brown flash fly across the highway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, the dog flew out the window...leapt, rolled, fell...whatever...he JUMPED OUT THE WINDOW!!! I pulled over, turned around and jumped out of the car. Of course, Slater is freaking out at this point...still stuck in the car. So, I'm yelling at Duke, running through a field of corn, and some woman in the trailer across the street comes out with her Miller High Life and ciggie hanging from her lips and says "he's long gone, you need to drive up on in that field...it's dry...you won't get stuck..." Being the rule follower that I am...my first thought was..."Isn't that illegal? Won't I get arrested?" The nice, helpful woman was all, "Nahh....get on in there!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, I'm all like...hey...I drive an FJ Cruiser...it can totally handle this field. I drive into the field as far as I can...to the tree line on the other side and get out and start yelling for Duke. I can hear his collar jingle, I just can't see him. I'm seriously tempted to just leave him there at this point. I break through the brush and he's trotting down the railroad tracks like this is some grand adventure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finally get him to come to me and throw him in the car. I am soooo livid that I tear out of this field like the devil was at my heels. Well, at least that was the plan. But nooooo.....the ONE muddy spot in this entire field? I find it. My wheels start spinning and all kinds of not nice thoughts are running through my head. Panic mode sets in and all I can think is that some police office is going to pull up and arrest me for going mudding in someone's field. I call Trey and sob out the entire story and at the end he goes, "So what you're trying to tell me is....you need my help?" Yes, smart guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, Trey pulls up, gets in the car, turns on the 4 wheel drive (which, in my feminine state of uselessness, I forgot I had) and immediately gets the car unstuck. He (and not to mention the ciggie toting, beer guzzling woman who told me I wouldn't get stuck in the first place) is laughing at me this whole time. I drive my car home, mud flying from everywhere...where I spent the next hour cursing Duke and vaccuming the mud and dog hair from all inside my car. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, this is why I ask...does anyone want a cute beagle that apparently thinks he's Underdog? Because seriously? Trekking through a muddy field searching for him once a year is so not for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I include this picture of my shoes for two reasons. One, to show the havoc I wreaked on them and two...I thought they'd feel left out if I didn't include them in the shoe journal...since I wear them everyday. They deserve some credit for the abuse I bestow on them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4416139469903514791?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4416139469903514791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4416139469903514791' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4416139469903514791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4416139469903514791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/beagle-for-sale.html' title='Beagle for Sale'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SBCG0Avx3nI/AAAAAAAAAH0/0g3LibZDSx8/s72-c/moms+bday+016.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3650504748653708281</id><published>2008-04-23T12:54:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T14:34:35.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who I Am</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-O_wvx3kI/AAAAAAAAAHc/frcZjoRleyI/s1600-h/ktgmaruth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192526121449676354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-O_wvx3kI/AAAAAAAAAHc/frcZjoRleyI/s200/ktgmaruth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-PAQvx3lI/AAAAAAAAAHk/5_dk0RXLSgo/s1600-h/ktmomgmasue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192526130039610962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-PAQvx3lI/AAAAAAAAAHk/5_dk0RXLSgo/s200/ktmomgmasue.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-PAwvx3mI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CyA56VDS7RI/s1600-h/kathrynspencil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192526138629545570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-PAwvx3mI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CyA56VDS7RI/s200/kathrynspencil.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-HIQvx3hI/AAAAAAAAAHI/sVNeFUa02EA/s1600-h/ktgmaruth.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-HIwvx3iI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/RWV96IrJsqc/s1600-h/kathrynspencil.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-FLQvx3gI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Kd1MuSF5hx0/s1600-h/ktmomgmasue.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These pictures hold the women I esteem most in the world. They are the shapers of who I am today. Each of them has meant something special and dear to me and I wouldn't trade or replace any of them for all the riches this world could offer. Not only do the genes we share shape my face, my feet, my mannerisms, and unfortunately, my propensity to be short and have to work hard to stay thin for the rest of my life...but also my zest for life, my sense of humor, all the wonderful things I've come to love about myself, and I also see in them the things I need to work on in myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been blessed in my life. Not a day goes by that I don't give thanks that not only do I have both of my grandmothers, I've grown up near them my entire life! I spent many weekends with one grandmother or another, and spent most holidays happily traipsing back and forth between one side of Dallas to another. Both of my grandmothers adore each other, and my parents are lucky enough to both love their "mother in law". :) Although my Aunt lived in Georgia and then Chicago while I was growing up...I spent many happy months in both places, always feeling immensely welcomed and loved. To this day, I lived within an hour of all of these women, and probably don't spend as much time with them as I should!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Grandmother Sue is, as I call her, my "fishing grandma". I learned so many life lessons from her, not limited to...how to bait a hook, to call "here, fishy, fishy, fishy", the fact that I should ALWAYS wear lipstick to take a picture (the fact being...I don't, probably to the chagrin of she and my mom), and how to love Jesus with all my heart. My grandmother has the most wonderful laugh, and she is quick to use it! Most of my favorite memories come from playing cards late at night with my family, and my grandmother almost always wins! There are 11 grandchildren on this side, and I've always felt one of a kind with her. She sewed us many a matching outfit or gown, and is one of the best cooks I know! My favorite meal always includes her "Green Stuff", a jello salad that I could eat my weight in. When I got married, she gave me a book with all of her best recipes...some of them even included where she originally got them. That is the wedding gift I cherish most to this day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My grandmother Ruth, I affectionately call my "Neiman Marcus grandma". She is my fellow Starbucks lover and favorite shopping partner. We laugh all the time at the deals (or should I say, steals) we find! We enjoy eating lunch at La Madeline and strolling though Northpark mall...just window shopping. From her I've learned the gifts of grace and hospitality. You would never meet a more charitable, giving soul than my precious grandmother. She has to be forcefully made to sit and eat during holiday gatherings at her house. She is famous for asking, "Are you hungry?" then opening the fridge to pull out anything that might possibly interest you...even if you reply no! She has an innate knack to choose gifts for people, I think because she so closely listens and watches for any ideas...anything that might please you. She has a timeless style and is up on all the trends and Hollywood gossip. Even if she hasn't always agreed with the choices I've made...she never lets on. She is a tender hearted to the core...a trait that was passed on to me that I sometimes wish wasn't. :) We can't finish a meal without crying over something that touched one of us. I treasure our Friday afternoon "dates" where we sit at Starbucks and sip our caramel frappacinos then head over to Target..."just to look."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Aunt Kathy, the Queen Kathryn to my Princess Kathryn. I am so thankful for the friendship and bond she shares with my mom. It truly shows what sisters are meant to be. They always say they hated eachother growing up...but to watch them now you would never know it! My aunt has been through so much in her life...and has come out on top. I see her learning to trust in the Lord and love him more through each trial in her life. She has taken each stage of her life and made the best of it. She was a single mom, raising my cousin (who also happens to be one of the best friends I have) Justin, and although times had to be hard, we always had so much fun! Everytime we visited, she would make sure to plan something to make us feel like we had the best trip ever! She uprooted to Chicago and married my wonderful Uncle La...who had 3 boys of his own. Her family of 2 became a family of 6 overnight and after a few rough patches, grew to love all the boys as her own. We lost my cousin Matt a couple of years ago to an accident, and watching her grow during this time has been a balm to my own soul. She's a never ending source of knowledge and good advice. I truly feel as if I could go to her with anything. She's the "cool aunt" but also full of wisdom. She can say, "been there, done that" and mean it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last but not least, my mom. My mom and I have always had an easy relationship...mainly because I didn't cause much trouble and was born "30 years old", I've heard it said. My sister and my mom have a tumultous relationship...my sister's been in enough trouble for both of us, and has tested the maternal bonds between she and my mom time and time again. I, however, have always had more or less a friendship with my mom. I earned my fair share of childhood discipline, and have done a few things in my life to disappoint my mom...but for the most part, have always felt a kinship with her. We talk about so much, and sometimes feel we're the "only sane ones" in our family. :) Growing up, she was wonderful. She owned her own business and mostly worked at night so she could be home with us during the day. Wow...that sounds bad...no, she didn't work the streets! I never, ever heard my parents argue or fight. I KNOW they did...but they never let us hear it. She's offered grace time and time again to each of us, which, not being a parent, is hard to wrap my mind around. She's not perfect, and one of the things I love most about her is watching grow in her open-mindedness as she gets older. She's learned to accept things as they come and knows she can't change everything...or everyone! She's a 'fixer' and I am just like her. She wants everyone around her to be happy, to be OK...even if it's to the detriment of her own well being. I'm learning in my own life...even as she learns in hers, that we can't possibly do that! She's a wonderful mother in law...yes, I speak for Trey. :) She doesn't butt in, and while she'll give me her opinion, she steps back and lets us live our life. And she ALMOST never mentions grandchildren. My parents are ALMOST empty nesters, and are still really young to have already shoved us all out of the house, and it's fun watching my mom and dad enjoy life, and enjoy eachother. Yesterday was my mom's birthday...the big 5-0...and she and my dad pulled up to my grandparent's on their motorcycle...something I would NEVER have pictured when I was younger...and it was so beautiful to me...and I am so thankful for my motorcycle riding momma!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope that I can bring joy and inspiration to the lives of those around me, just like the other women of my family. Whether it's shopping, playing cards, making a scrapbook, or raising my family...I have to look no further than these beautiful ladies!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3650504748653708281?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3650504748653708281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3650504748653708281' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3650504748653708281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3650504748653708281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/who-i-am.html' title='Who I Am'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA-O_wvx3kI/AAAAAAAAAHc/frcZjoRleyI/s72-c/ktgmaruth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-2735688628966321775</id><published>2008-04-23T09:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T09:46:20.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She wore an....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA9LrAvx3aI/AAAAAAAAAGU/ZsfbilxExwM/s1600-h/moms+bday+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192452097688329634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA9LrAvx3aI/AAAAAAAAAGU/ZsfbilxExwM/s400/moms+bday+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;itsy, bitsy, teeny, weenie black and white polka dot pair of Steve Maddens. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are one of those pair that I will never, ever get rid of. I remember being at Stonebriar Mall, walking past the window of the Steve Madden store, backing up, and gazing through the window at these. My shopping partner said, "Those couldn't BE more Kate." And I agreed. There's something about these shoes that takes me back to the 40's when every little detail was important. I can just picture wearing these with a short black formal with pompadour hair and siren red lipstick. I love wearing them with dark jeans....where just the toe and a hint of red heel peeks out. I hope that one day, if I have a daughter, these will be the shoes she looks at and says, "My mom must have had lots of fun!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-2735688628966321775?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/2735688628966321775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=2735688628966321775' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2735688628966321775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2735688628966321775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/she-wore.html' title='She wore an....'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA9LrAvx3aI/AAAAAAAAAGU/ZsfbilxExwM/s72-c/moms+bday+016.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4422415169713253861</id><published>2008-04-22T07:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T07:59:31.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gold Dust Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA3hIQvx3ZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0BFMG1YEG9U/s1600-h/Framily+Reunion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192053477478620562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA3hIQvx3ZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0BFMG1YEG9U/s400/Framily+Reunion.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Here's some Fleetwood Mac to kick off Tuesday morning...and to go with my gold gladiator sandals from Old Navy. I'm telling you...Old Navy is stepping up to the plate with cute shoes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rock on- gold dust woman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Take your silver spoon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And dig your grave&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Heartless challenge&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pick your path and Ill pray&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wake up in the morning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;See your sunrise- loves- to go down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lousy lovers- pick their prey&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But they never cry out loud&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Did she make you cry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Make you break down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Shatter your illusions of love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Is it over now- do you know how&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pick up the pieces and go home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rock on- ancient woman&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Follow those who pale&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In your shadow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rulers make bad lovers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You better put your kingdom up for sale&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Did she make you cry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Make you break down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Shatter your illusions of love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Is it over now- do you know how&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Pickup the pieces and go home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4422415169713253861?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4422415169713253861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4422415169713253861' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4422415169713253861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4422415169713253861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/gold-dust-woman.html' title='Gold Dust Woman'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SA3hIQvx3ZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0BFMG1YEG9U/s72-c/Framily+Reunion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3997658773515482073</id><published>2008-04-21T07:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T07:53:16.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Monday Blues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAyONhxuXxI/AAAAAAAAAGE/21K9DCGWuRw/s1600-h/Framily+Reunion+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191680833507712786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAyONhxuXxI/AAAAAAAAAGE/21K9DCGWuRw/s400/Framily+Reunion+026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got home from the lake house last night about 10:00, at which point I was already completely passed out due to the Nyquil Trey made me take on the way home after I said, "I'm dyyyinggg" about 300 times because of my allergies. Needless to say, the last thing I wanted to do this morning was get up, get dressed, put on heels and come to work. But, because I am a trooper, I did. And I'm wearing my turquoise patent heels that I got from Buffalo Exchange, the best glorified thrift store ever! They were brand new and they're Michael Antonio, who I've recently discovered makes the most wonderful inexpensive fancy shoes! I feel better already...with these on my feet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3997658773515482073?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3997658773515482073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3997658773515482073' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3997658773515482073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3997658773515482073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/monday-blues.html' title='The Monday Blues'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAyONhxuXxI/AAAAAAAAAGE/21K9DCGWuRw/s72-c/Framily+Reunion+026.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-7985802321327192238</id><published>2008-04-21T07:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T07:47:33.311-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's easy being green...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAyM3hxuXwI/AAAAAAAAAF8/We3RGay4WAk/s1600-h/Framily+Reunion+008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191679356038962946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAyM3hxuXwI/AAAAAAAAAF8/We3RGay4WAk/s400/Framily+Reunion+008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got these super cute green patent flops in Shreveport while shopping with Carrie. They were on clearance at this cute little boutique for $3.00 or something ridiculously cheap like that. They're the classic story of..."I have nothing to wear with these, but they're $3.00..." and now I wear them with everything! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-7985802321327192238?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/7985802321327192238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=7985802321327192238' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7985802321327192238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7985802321327192238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-easy-being-green.html' title='It&apos;s easy being green...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAyM3hxuXwI/AAAAAAAAAF8/We3RGay4WAk/s72-c/Framily+Reunion+008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-895165098539517351</id><published>2008-04-19T10:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T10:44:37.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ahhhh....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAoTWRxuXvI/AAAAAAAAAF0/fvw-w6U_PlQ/s1600-h/ball+049.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190982793947930354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAoTWRxuXvI/AAAAAAAAAF0/fvw-w6U_PlQ/s400/ball+049.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAoSgBxuXuI/AAAAAAAAAFs/BmpXuXRvYxk/s1600-h/ball+011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190981861940027106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAoSgBxuXuI/AAAAAAAAAFs/BmpXuXRvYxk/s400/ball+011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the Payless debaucle yesterday, I slipped my brown Reefs on for the trip to our lake house. Muuuuch better. Then, to play games, I donned my trusty Uggs, really just to get a picture of them because it's getting too hot to wear them. &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/6501956836972881241-895165098539517351?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/895165098539517351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=895165098539517351' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/895165098539517351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/895165098539517351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/ahhhh.html' title='Ahhhh....'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAoTWRxuXvI/AAAAAAAAAF0/fvw-w6U_PlQ/s72-c/ball+049.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5436828007629913533</id><published>2008-04-18T06:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T14:12:05.842-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shades of Brown</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAiLhiJw-bI/AAAAAAAAAFc/ElUsjbavkKs/s1600-h/ball.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190551978764204466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAiLhiJw-bI/AAAAAAAAAFc/ElUsjbavkKs/s320/ball.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Duke and Slater are all like, "What the crap are you doing?" I love this!! And I ask myself the same question, because there is no way I'm making it through the day at work with these on my feet. There's something to be said for the cuteness Payless offers at seriously low prices, but 8 hours later...your feet start screaming..."Why are you so cheap??" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5436828007629913533?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5436828007629913533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5436828007629913533' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5436828007629913533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5436828007629913533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/shades-of-brown.html' title='Shades of Brown'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAiLhiJw-bI/AAAAAAAAAFc/ElUsjbavkKs/s72-c/ball.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4134170935940481445</id><published>2008-04-17T16:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T22:42:33.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Black Dress?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAgYnSJw-aI/AAAAAAAAAFU/cqERqdHU22o/s1600-h/ball+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190425633711258018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAgYnSJw-aI/AAAAAAAAAFU/cqERqdHU22o/s320/ball+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Forget that...I go for the little black shoe. I got these beauties at Bakers when Summer and I were hunting for the perfect girls night out on the town outfit. I wore them first with this fabulous green and black dress which there are no pictures of...we agreed no pics in order to get more life out of our dresses...because if there's no picture proof...it's like you never wore it. :) I'm headed to see Brian Regan, my favorite comedian tonight with the fam...so I killed two birds with one stone...or two shoes with one day??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4134170935940481445?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4134170935940481445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4134170935940481445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4134170935940481445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4134170935940481445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/little-black-dress.html' title='Little Black Dress?'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAgYnSJw-aI/AAAAAAAAAFU/cqERqdHU22o/s72-c/ball+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-833315019027678939</id><published>2008-04-17T07:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T08:03:06.391-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And so it begins...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAdKgSJw-ZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ucsXjK8fpMI/s1600-h/ball.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190199014056851858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAdKgSJw-ZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ucsXjK8fpMI/s320/ball.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are some of my favorite shoes ever. I wear them with jeans, sundresses, sweats, whatever. The picture does not do justice to how nasty they look...they're stained red from kool aid dropped by my sweet little cousin, a little brown from being worn to the lake a few too many times, but they're perfectly broken in and I couldn't love them more. They came from The Gap, because The Gap got cool and decided to start carrying Chuch Taylors. I bought them the same time I bought Trey's brown ones, which he also wore all the time, until Slater, the bottomless pit (pun intended :) ) ate one. Now the one that's left sits forlornly in the closet while I continue to enjoy mine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-833315019027678939?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/833315019027678939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=833315019027678939' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/833315019027678939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/833315019027678939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/and-so-it-begins.html' title='And so it begins...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAdKgSJw-ZI/AAAAAAAAAFM/ucsXjK8fpMI/s72-c/ball.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3267144177798353277</id><published>2008-04-16T09:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T09:47:36.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A journey in footwear</title><content type='html'>In light of yesterday's blog...my brother in the framily Chris proposed a challenge.  To wear every pair of shoes I own in succession, without repeating.  And, I accept.  So, to record this journey, I'll post a picture of my shoes every day until I've exhausted them all.  I'll be excluding boots, because really?  You just don't wear suede boots in April in Texas.  That can be a challenge for this fall.  I'll also, not that anyone cares but me, include where and when I got them...because pathetically...I remember things like that.  Maybe not on all of them...but most.  Who knows, I might even throw some quotes in, and some songs about shoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today the challenge begins with the new gold shoes whose picture is already posted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll kick it off with a quote...&lt;br /&gt;"Stiletto, I look at it more as an attitude as opposed to a high-heeled shoe." ~Lita Ford&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3267144177798353277?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3267144177798353277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3267144177798353277' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3267144177798353277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3267144177798353277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/journey-in-footwear.html' title='A journey in footwear'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4549259678729052031</id><published>2008-04-15T13:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T14:29:15.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bewitched</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAT4-SJw-YI/AAAAAAAAAFE/LZFRaU82LkE/s1600-h/shoes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189546419546028418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAT4-SJw-YI/AAAAAAAAAFE/LZFRaU82LkE/s320/shoes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think, with all seriousness, that Michael Kors has done something to bewitch me. I cannot walk into that store without leaving with something. His design style is classic and chic...and the store at Northpark has the most amazing sales known to man. Boots once thought out of my price range are made attainable at the end of the season. I'll never forget walking into the Dillards in Shreveport and seeing the racks of clearance boots, and spotting the unmistakable Michael by Michael Kors box. Could it be? The boots I already owned in brown, now made available in grey? Grey suede scrunchie boots, oh how I love you. The first pair I greedily grabbed off the shelf just happened to be a 1/2 size too big...but for $42.50...who cares?? I did not let that box out of my grip while I searched for another pair for my shopping partner Carrie. We found one other pair in all of the store, only a size too big...I told Carrie, "Wear thick socks. Buy the boots. You have no choice." They're beautiful...but I digress...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was at the mall last night, having dinner and drinks with some of my favorite girls when Michelle happened to say, "Michael Kors has the best sale on some of their shoes." My ears perked up while at the same time my mind raced..."do not even think about going in there Katy," said the good, frugal, budget savvy angel on the left shoulder while the shoe loving, designer addicted she-devil on the right whispered, "Just go look...it can't hurt to look..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I leave the girls and have a genuine errand to run...I need to hit La Occitane to buy a bundle of lavender, and in order to get there...I have to pass...yes, Michael Kors. My feet, on their own will, head into the store where the first thing I see is a 70% off sign above an entire shelf of shoes. And not winter shoes, we're talking cute, summer, wear now shoes. I begin planning outfits around the shoes I'm seeing. I'm still not convinced until the sales girl (who I'm pretty sure said, "Hi Katy" when I walked in) says "Most of those are either $25 or $35 with the sale." "Are you serious?" I asked in genuine astonishment. "Serious," she said with a smile. Much to my chagrin, and Trey's relief, they only had a couple of pairs left in my size. I left with the cutest pair of gold and silver heels...see picture for reference. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was feeling a tad guilty since every time I buy a new pair of shoes, which is often, I promise myself I won't buy another pair until I clean out my closet, or start wearing everything I own. But I've realized something. I'm on a quest...a quest for the perfect sole mate. I can't fight it. And while Michael Kors is providing me the oppurtunity to search for this mate at very large discount prices, who am I to deny myself that pleasure? I took comfort in Carrie's words..."You're excused because, for that price, it would be a crime to NOT buy them." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've owned alot of shoes in my life.  I love Reef flip flops, low top Chuck Taylors, Jessica Simpson heels, Sperry Top Siders, ballet slippers of any color and style, and over the top heels from the $4.99 shoe store.  I'll shop at Nordstrom, Payless, Barneys, or Target.  I just LOVE shoes.  I feel that one day, I'll find a pair that screams...."I am SO you!"  And I'll probably buy one in every color.  So to all of you out there on the hunt for your own sole mate, be it Converse, Jimmy Choo, Puma, Christian Loboutin, or Nike...keep searching. That perfect pair is out there somewhere...waiting for your feet to say, "Ahhhh, feels like home."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4549259678729052031?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4549259678729052031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4549259678729052031' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4549259678729052031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4549259678729052031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/bewitched.html' title='Bewitched'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/SAT4-SJw-YI/AAAAAAAAAFE/LZFRaU82LkE/s72-c/shoes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-1068273661880992962</id><published>2008-04-09T07:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T08:30:40.283-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A few of my favorite things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Brown paper packages tied up with strings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;These are a few of my favorite things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When the dog bites&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When the bee stings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I'm feeling sad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I simply remember my favorite things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And then I don't feel so bad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;These are the lyrics that were running through my head this morning at 3:45 am while the house shook from the thunder and the room looked like day.  I was sleeping soundly, as I usually do during a thunderstorm when all of a sudden I was awakened by a combined 130 pounds of crying, shaking, hyperventilating dog.  As it turns out, our dogs are terrified of thunderstorms. I'm not sure if this is a newly onset fear, because I don't remember ever being jolted out of sleep quite like this...and I'm pretty sure that in the 3 years we've had our dogs there have been thunderstorms.  Now, Duke...not so much a problem.  As a beagle, he can curl up quite small at the end of the bed and not cause any problems.  He's also apparently the braver of the two.  After the initial jump to the bed...he was A-OK.  Slater, on the other hand...kept me up all night.  Much to Trey's chagrin, I told Slater he could stay..."he's shaking..." I told him.  "Oh, I can feel him," he replied.  But with every crash of thunder, he leapt up, and then had to find a new position.  2 grown people, a beagle, and a pitbull in a queen bed do not a night of sound sleep make.  I finally shoved him off the bed, only to have him stand with his nose on the bed, still crying.  Hence, the singing to myself at 4:00 in the morning.  If I were to write a chorus to that song it might go something like this...and I'm not a songwriter by any means AND this is the musings of an incoherent girl at 4 in the morning...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fresh fruits and veggies from the Farmers Market&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; running through dew on a warm summer morning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;getting mail from the framily...tied up with string...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;these are a few of my favorite things...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That's as far as I got last night...I might add more later...maybe everyone else can add to it.  :)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or maybe we can admit that I should never try to change lyrics of famous songs, especially in the dead of night and never mention this again.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-1068273661880992962?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/1068273661880992962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=1068273661880992962' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1068273661880992962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1068273661880992962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/few-of-my-favorite-things.html' title='A few of my favorite things...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5423085393821757909</id><published>2008-04-02T10:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T10:11:39.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>getting to knooww you...</title><content type='html'>So I got these questions off of &lt;a href="http://chickbug.com/"&gt;Chickbug's&lt;/a&gt; blog...which I just recently tuned into and love.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1- what time did you wake up this morning?  6:45&lt;br /&gt;2- did you watch tv last night? if so, what? American Idol, "No Country for Old Men"&lt;br /&gt;3- what is one thing you are looking forward to in the next month?  getting on a boat, The Byron Nelson!!&lt;br /&gt;4- what is your favorite dessert? Green Stuff&lt;br /&gt;5- three websites you read everyday? &lt;a href="http://www.whowhatweardaily.com/"&gt;www.whowhatweardaily.com&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.aol.com/"&gt;www.aol.com&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.dailycandy.com/"&gt;www.dailycandy.com&lt;/a&gt; (yeah, I'm apparently THAT shallow)&lt;br /&gt;6- which do you like most: breakfast, lunch or dinner? breakfast, fo shooo&lt;br /&gt;7- if you could go anywhere in the world, it would be....EVERYWHERE&lt;br /&gt;8- favorite day of the year? February 3rd&lt;br /&gt;9- why do you read blogs? to laugh, and to see what other people out there are up to...&lt;br /&gt;10- one thing you want to accomplish in the next year? to do a triathalon, and feel great in my skin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5423085393821757909?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5423085393821757909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5423085393821757909' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5423085393821757909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5423085393821757909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/getting-to-knooww-you.html' title='getting to knooww you...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-2275517225356047009</id><published>2008-04-01T09:36:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T09:53:51.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>'Nilla Milk with Tia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R_JMdGEWrKI/AAAAAAAAAE0/smBUvLWo3og/s1600-h/Tia+and+Ev+Zoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184290183785655458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R_JMdGEWrKI/AAAAAAAAAE0/smBUvLWo3og/s320/Tia+and+Ev+Zoo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does anyone know what to do with a 4 year old boy? I hope so, because I sure don't...but I'm about to inherit one for a short time. My sweet nephew, whom I adore beyond all reason will be staying with my husband and I for awhile...and while he's stayed with us before...it's pretty much been for one night, and I've gotten to play the cool aunt role. We hit Starbucks together about once a week...Ev gets Organic 'Nilla Milk and Tia (me) has her caramel macchiato. We've been to the zoo, parks, fed the ducks at White Rock, and even Wild About Harry's. The kid's a Dallasite through and through. I LOVE dressing the kid, and taking him to fun places, but raising him? Yeah...news flash....I have NO maternal instincts as of yet...hence the reason Trey and I have not pro-created. We fly by the seat of our pants, to the gym, to dinner, to soccer games, bible study...we love being on the go. Apparently, as people who have children have told me, that's all about to stop. Or...at the very least, slow down a little. I've never shied away from saying that I'm not even sure I WANT to have kids of my own...and if we do...we'll most likely adopt, Brangelina style. But I look into that sweet little boys face and long for him to have a stable home, a home where he knows what time he'll go to bed, where he knows the food he'll eat is good for his body, I long for him to be in church, learning what life might be all about. And so, if it takes a bit of sacrifice on my part to, even for a time, give him what I think it is that all kids need...who am I to shun that oppurtunity? I ask for prayer, and for ideas? Anyone? Beuhler? I am so thankful for the friends I have that have already said, "We'll do anything you need." And while I don't normally call on favors, I am so about to!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-2275517225356047009?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/2275517225356047009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=2275517225356047009' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2275517225356047009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2275517225356047009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/04/nilla-milk-with-tia.html' title='&apos;Nilla Milk with Tia'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R_JMdGEWrKI/AAAAAAAAAE0/smBUvLWo3og/s72-c/Tia+and+Ev+Zoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4095224046067934856</id><published>2008-03-20T09:01:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T09:47:18.754-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness</title><content type='html'>To start off with, what a genius title for a book. I love it. The redundancy...and silliness...of the title sets you up for an entire book that is whimsical, fun, and a pleasure to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes find myself being a bit critical of Christian artists. I find "Christian" music to sometimes be sycophantic, and at the very least, not theologically sound. i realize this can be a character flaw on my part, because who am I to judge the heart of an artist, whether the medium be paint, pencil, or voice? However, there are several artists that I love listening to, Andrew Peterson being one of these. Many of his songs have, at points in my life, reached deep into my soul and have soothed it like a balm. Others have made me look myself in the eyes, where I found I didn't like what I saw there. His music speaks to the broken, to those wandering, and to those who simply find joy in knowing Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I found a blog saying he had written a book, and that bloggers could get a copy and review it, I was ecstatic. Not only could I live out my secret dream of working for a publishing company doing book reviews and editing, I would get a free book by a musician that I totally dig! When the books came in the mail, I immediatly dove in, worrying about making the deadline to finish the book and post this blog. From the "Brief Introduction to the World of Aerwier", I was hooked. Although a grown adult, I giggled through this entire book. A quote from the very first page, "Unsatisifed, the Nameless Evil (named Gnag), built a fleet that bore his monstrous army westward across the Dark Sea of Darkness to the continent of Skree." The Nameless Evil (named Gnag)? I love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The characters in the book are easily lovable, and as I read I saw each of them grow in bravery and maturity throughout their journey. Janner, as he was torn between his heart's longing to be free and the neccessity of protecting his family. Tink, the little brother, wanting so much to be like his older brother. And sweet little Leeli, fighting with every part of her to not be treated any differently than her older brothers or those around her. Each character in this book weave a picture of what family means, and small towns, and those brought together through hard times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrew Peterson had done a fantastic job of creating a children's book that is most enjoyable to adults as well, due to the deeper meanings hidden within the pages. It's hard to write this review without giving too much away, but to anyone who is a lover of fairytales, and of things that are a bit fantastical, this book is a must read. Being a teacher, I can't WAIT to read this book aloud to my students, and wait with baited breath until the next book in this saga appears on shelves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the link to the book on Amazon...&lt;a title="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1400073847" href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1400073847"&gt;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1400073847&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4095224046067934856?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4095224046067934856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4095224046067934856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4095224046067934856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4095224046067934856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/03/on-edge-of-dark-sea-of-darkness.html' title='On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-1040446653212956315</id><published>2008-03-11T08:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T08:24:39.494-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What I'm ready for now....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R9aICFmEDzI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2izW6uczlhE/s1600-h/kt+val.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176474391151906610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R9aICFmEDzI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2izW6uczlhE/s320/kt+val.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-1040446653212956315?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/1040446653212956315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=1040446653212956315' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1040446653212956315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1040446653212956315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-im-ready-for-now.html' title='What I&apos;m ready for now....'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R9aICFmEDzI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2izW6uczlhE/s72-c/kt+val.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3398614106509459814</id><published>2008-03-06T08:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T09:25:55.498-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A little B.S. with your morning forecast</title><content type='html'>I woke up this morning and realized I did not know the weather for the day in order to make appropriate wardrobe choices.  So here is the conversation that followed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**It is a widely known fact that Trey is almost always right...but I've come to realize that this is a double edged sword.  If he doesn't know the answer...he just makes something up in order to SOUND like he knows what's going on...this is the reason I've come to NOT trust him at face value on things that relate to my own sense of well being...or in this case....a sense of being dressed correctly for the weather**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Hey babe, do you know the weather for today?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  "Ummm, Yeah...I think it's supposed to be like yesterday...sunny and maybe 70."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Really?  I could have sworn I heard it was going to get cold."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  "Well check the weather and see."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Did you bring your laptop in?  I want to check weather.com."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  "No, it's in the car.  Turn on the TV."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "The TV?  Like a commoner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  "(sigh) Yes Katy, like a commoner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Newscaster:  "It's 47 outside now, but get ready for the wintry blast coming our way.  It will be in the mid 30's when you pick the kids up from school, and we expect at least an inch of snow over most of North Texas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:   (yelling into the bedroom) "Hey babe?  You sure about the 70 degress situation?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  "Yeah, pretty sure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  (muttering to self) "I sure am glad I didn't listen to YOU." (again yelling to bedroom)  "Did you make that up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  "Ummmm.....maybe.  Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  "Nothing.  Make sure you wear shorts and flip flops for the beautiful weather today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T:  Silence&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3398614106509459814?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3398614106509459814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3398614106509459814' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3398614106509459814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3398614106509459814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/03/little-bs-with-your-morning-forecast.html' title='A little B.S. with your morning forecast'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-8257028160270317442</id><published>2008-03-05T08:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T08:18:58.906-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Call Me Cinderella...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86ryQvItDI/AAAAAAAAAEk/RcohZ_In49Y/s1600-h/dress+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174261901869757490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86ryQvItDI/AAAAAAAAAEk/RcohZ_In49Y/s320/dress+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86rqQvItCI/AAAAAAAAAEc/hpsIYBuzC5g/s1600-h/dress+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174261764430804002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86rqQvItCI/AAAAAAAAAEc/hpsIYBuzC5g/s320/dress+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86rjQvItBI/AAAAAAAAAEU/mnanGtvkZ80/s1600-h/dress+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174261644171719698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86rjQvItBI/AAAAAAAAAEU/mnanGtvkZ80/s320/dress+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's my dress for the ball...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-8257028160270317442?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/8257028160270317442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=8257028160270317442' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/8257028160270317442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/8257028160270317442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/03/call-me-cinderella.html' title='Call Me Cinderella...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R86ryQvItDI/AAAAAAAAAEk/RcohZ_In49Y/s72-c/dress+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4639982755540909292</id><published>2008-02-27T08:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T09:39:09.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Waterfalls</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R8WEBLPBIhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/6w7eNguPFu8/s1600-h/hp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171684902835397138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R8WEBLPBIhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/6w7eNguPFu8/s320/hp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I was running the other day, and as I sometimes do, I veered from the trail and let my feet carry me wherever they deemed worthy. I was lost in the music spilling from my headphones, enjoying the beauty of the day, marvelling at the mansions surrounding me, when suddenly...I realized where I was. My body had, without coersion from my mind, taken me to a place where I once met myself. A place where I discovered who I could be, and was forced to admit who I was. I was in Highland Park...land of Dallas Old Money....and scattered throughout this palatial neighborhood are the most glorious parks and creeks known to North Texans. Tucked behind a park there is a spot that is almost hidden...you have to actually stumble upon it to know it's there. You clamber around some rocks, then all of a sudden...you are face to face with a waterfall...an honest to god waterfall. Technically, it's just the spilloff from the pond above, but when you're on level with it...you feel lost...like..."How the crap did a waterfall end up in the middle of Dallas?" lost. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been to this place before...I spent time here during a drought in my life. I left my mark on this place on multiple occasions. Some of them bring back hurt, and as my breathing slows and I stand with my hands on my knees, my mind reels with accusations. "Do you remember another time in your life you were here?", my conscience seems to whisper at me. "Here you are again...running." Although this time, I was simply running. With no thought to do harm to myself or those around me...I was running for the sheer joy of it. With that thought, my mind fast forwarded to another time I visited this waterfall. I spent a night under the stars, climbing the slippery rocks, standing under the spray of the water...the cold drops mixing with silver tears already streaking my cheeks. All alone, I stood. I raised my arms to the sky and came face to face with the Holy One. He who could erase everything. He who could give man the creativity to orchestrate a waterfall into the middle of a city landscape. He who could cast my sins as far as the east is from the west. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On this strangely warm February afternoon...I looked at this spot, this meaningful spot...and simply smiled. For I am thankful for each and every waterfall in my life. For being reminders of who I once was, and who I am now. And how, no matter how hard I try to run...I'm not that far from the girl I've always been. A little wiser maybe...but still a girl who can stop everything and get lost in a moment. A girl who takes the time to seek out waterfalls...and to raise her arms to the God that made her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When accusations of my past are hurled at me like poisonous barbs...I will simply tell myself..."Hey...I'll always have waterfalls..." and smile. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4639982755540909292?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4639982755540909292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4639982755540909292' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4639982755540909292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4639982755540909292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/waterfalls.html' title='Waterfalls'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R8WEBLPBIhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/6w7eNguPFu8/s72-c/hp.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-7245159299630665942</id><published>2008-02-21T14:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T14:42:18.125-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Personal Soundtrack</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here is my soundtrack, progressing from self views, to songs that are meaningful to significant parts of my life…finalized by what I would consider my current personal mantras.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben Folds Five, “Kate”&lt;br /&gt;“When all words fail she speaks,&lt;br /&gt;Her mix tape's a masterpiece,&lt;br /&gt;Walks through the garden so the roses can see…Oh I...have you got nothing to say?And you can see the daisies in her footsteps…Dandelions, butterflies…I wanna be Kate”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jackopierce, “Wildflowers”&lt;br /&gt;"Sweet darling country girl, Got her hair tied back in a bow, Walking long and dusty miles, Down a gravel gray Texas road. Her butterfly eyes have seen the coming of ten thousand wildflowers. Her eyes have seen the coming of the wildflowers. Tiptop of Texas on the handle of the land, The boy who would be cowboy rides on…VW van, Bringing everything about him that she can have  If she can. He's got himself a mind for wildflowers. He's coming long miles for his wildflowers, Wildflowers.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elton John, “Tiny Dancer” (Tie Me Down Sir)&lt;br /&gt;“Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band, Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man, Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand…And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wyclef Jean, “Dance Like This”&lt;br /&gt;“I never really knew that you could dance like this…She make a man wanna speak Spanish…Como se llama? Bonita. Mi casa, su casa.&lt;br /&gt;Baila la calle de noche, baila la calle de dia.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amos Lee, “Southern Girl”&lt;br /&gt;“Something about a southern girl Make me feel right. In a Mississippi morning, She's an angel in flight. In a blink of an eye, She'll be out of your sight. Something about a southern girl.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jackopierce, “Vineyard”&lt;br /&gt;“But that girl over there has mahogany hair, And her eyes of sweet amethyst. I think maybe it would be better if I just wrote her a letter, But instead she grabs me and we kiss. And she says, And she says, Won’t you stay on the vineyard for the summer? Won’t you stay on the vineyard for the year?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul Wright, “Walks on Water”&lt;br /&gt;“She wakes up and takes up her surfboard,&lt;br /&gt;heads out…out from the seashore&lt;br /&gt;and from the world in where she lives.&lt;br /&gt;She's got no fears or worries at all right there&lt;br /&gt;just the smell of salt water that's in the air&lt;br /&gt;and the sunrise.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan Adams, “Stars Go Blue”&lt;br /&gt;“Dancin' where the stars go blue, Dancin' where the evening fell, Dancin' in your wooden shoes, In a wedding gown”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lionel Richie, “Easy Like Sunday Morning”&lt;br /&gt;“Everybody wants me to be what they want me to be. I'm not happy when I try to fake it…No. Ooh, that’s why Im easy….I'm easy like Sunday morning…Thats why I'm easy….I'm easy like Sunday morning.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Dave Matthews Band, “Dreamgirl”&lt;br /&gt;“Caught by a wave my back to the ocean. It knocks me off my feet and just as I find my footing...here you come again.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matthew Sweet, “Farther Down”&lt;br /&gt;“Into you so far our words go...so much clearer then you hear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Into you goes everything I know...no one else knows how I feel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Farther down I'm desperate for you,where you never have to know. Farther down I'm still without a clue, just something, something takes my pain away.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andrew Peterson, “Just As I Am”&lt;br /&gt;“All of my life, I've held on to this fear. Its thistles and vines ensnare and entwine, what flowers appeared. It's the fear that I'll fall, one too many times. It's the fear that His love is no better than mine. But He says that just as I am and just as I was, just as I will be He loves me, He does. He showed me the day that He shed His own blood. He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rich Mullins, “Land of My Sojourn”&lt;br /&gt;”Nobody tells you when you get born here how much you'll come to love it, and how you'll never belong here. So I call you my country, and I'll be lonely for my home, and I wish that I could take you there with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara Bareilles, “Many the Miles”&lt;br /&gt;“There's too many things that I haven't done yet, too many sunsets, I haven't seen. You can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down. You would've thought by now I'd have learned something. I made up my mind when I was a young girl I've been given this one world, I won't worry it away. But now and again I lose sight of the good life. I get stuck in a low light, but then Love comes in.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missy Higgins, “Steer”&lt;br /&gt;“But the search ends here where the night is totally clear and your heart is fierce. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So now you finally know that you control where you go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You can steer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So hold this feeling like a newborn,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;all the freedom surging through your veins.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You have opened up a new door, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So bring on the wind, fire and rain.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-7245159299630665942?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/7245159299630665942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=7245159299630665942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7245159299630665942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7245159299630665942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-personal-soundtrack.html' title='My Personal Soundtrack'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-2036710909643157548</id><published>2008-02-20T12:46:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T13:06:22.325-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;L'on verra s'arrêter le mobile du monde&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~Héliette de Vivonne~&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;L'on verra s'arrêter le mobile du monde,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Les étoiles marcher parmi le firmament,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Saturne infortuné luire bénignement,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Jupiter commander dedans le creux de l'onde: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L'on verra Mars paisible et la clarté féconde&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Du Soleil s'obscurcir sans force et mouvement,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Vénus sans amitié, Stilbon sans changement,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Et la Lune en carré changer sa forme ronde: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Le feu sera pesant et légère la terre,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;L'eau sera chaude et sèche, et dans l'air qui l'enserre,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;On verra les poissons voler et se nourrir, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plutôt que mon amour, à vous seul destinée,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Se tourne en autre part, car pour vous je fus née,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Je ne vis que pour vous, pour vous je veux mourir. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You'd sooner see the spheres of heaven stay,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The stars to glide ungoverned in the sky,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Unlucky Saturn smiling from on high,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or Jupiter his throne cast far away. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sooner would the Sun abandon day,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And dance with peaceful Mars in darkened June,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Or loveless Venus, Mercury delay,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A cube of rock replace our rotund Moon. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The fire go dull, the earth grow light,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The water dry, and in free flight&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You might see little fish float past &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Before my faithful spirit might&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;For other heart than yours ignite,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;My destiny, my unsurpassed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-2036710909643157548?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/2036710909643157548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=2036710909643157548' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2036710909643157548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2036710909643157548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/lon-verra-sarrter-le-mobile-du-monde.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-1199017690887983439</id><published>2008-02-18T13:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T13:06:55.407-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Run</title><content type='html'>I long to be outside, in the warmth emulating from the sky.  I stare outside the window with a yearning akin to needing air.  In a few hours, I will be released from this prison of work and will not walk, not jog, but sprint to the doors.  I will look up, breathe deeply of the crisp, blue air around me and will thank God for this very day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My feet will hit the pavement and I will run.  I will run until my lungs are bursting, and sweat is pouring.  And once again, I will thank God.  Thank Him for the freedom I am an owner of, the freedom to run for the sheer joy of it, and not because someone is chasing me.  The simple fact that I love being outside so much because I live in an indoors world, and for the fact that I don't live outdoors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I run, I will pray.  I will pray for this world I live in, and the impact I may have on people and things around me.  I will pray for my dearest friends, and thank God that Has brought me to a place in life where I feel deeply, and pray that those I know will feel His presence just as deeply as I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this day, I vow to run.  In essence, to take the gifts He has bestowed on my and use them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-1199017690887983439?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/1199017690887983439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=1199017690887983439' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1199017690887983439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1199017690887983439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/run.html' title='Run'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3386623927408895559</id><published>2008-02-15T14:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T14:04:39.466-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We Could Walk Together</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;This is an awesome song by my current favorite band, The Clientele&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We could walk together&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In the jade and the coolness of the evening ligh&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;tAnd watch the crowds serenely flow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Through carnivals of shop windows where elm trees sigh&lt;br /&gt;The summer’s heat is fading&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And the clown on the golden lawn holds out his hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And out there on the fading day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The members of a strange parade play sarabandes&lt;br /&gt;Like a silver ring thrown into the flood of my heart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With the moon high above the motorway&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have searched for all your fragrance in the silent dark&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Is that okay?&lt;br /&gt;So why don’t we stick together&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With our eyes so full of evening and amphetamine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And watch the fools go rolling on through&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Still fields as the darkness falls on England green&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3386623927408895559?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3386623927408895559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3386623927408895559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3386623927408895559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3386623927408895559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/we-could-walk-together.html' title='We Could Walk Together'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-8260818732232692956</id><published>2008-02-15T08:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T08:40:09.370-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Music I am LOVING</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;For some reason, this playlist makes me think of Spring....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Winter Kids, "Your Eyes Are Like Mine"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cloud Cult, "Chemicals Collide"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Jaymay, "Hard to Say"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Brunettes, "These Things Take Time"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Clientele, "These Days Nothing But Sunshine"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Perishers, "Nothing Like You and I"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Cave Singers, "Seeds of Night"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Vampire Weekend, "Oxford Comma"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Blue Jackets, "Do You Remember?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;White Williams, "Route to Palm"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-8260818732232692956?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/8260818732232692956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=8260818732232692956' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/8260818732232692956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/8260818732232692956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/music-i-am-loving.html' title='Music I am LOVING'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-2963048514991745978</id><published>2008-02-14T08:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T08:57:04.247-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines Dedication</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;One of my all-time favorite songs, that I would like to send out to the fram.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"When it Don't Come Easy"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;~Patty Griffin~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Red lights are flashing on the highway&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wonder if we're gonna ever get home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wonder if we're gonna ever get home tonight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Everywhere the waters getting rough&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Your best intentions may not be enough&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wonder if we're gonna ever get home tonight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But if you break down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll drive out and find you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If you forget my love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll try to remind you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And stay by you when it don't come easy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't know nothing except change will come&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Year after year what we do is undone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Time keeps moving from a crawl to a run&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wonder if we're gonna ever get home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You're out there walking down a highway&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And all of the signs got blown away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sometimes you wonder if you're walking in the wrong direction&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But if you break downI'll drive out and find you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If you forget my love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll try to remind you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And stay by you when it don't come easy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So many things that I had before&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That don't matter to me now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tonight I cry for the love that I've lost&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And the love I've never found&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When the last bird falls&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And the last siren sounds&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Someone will say what's been said before&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some love we were looking for&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But if you break down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll drive out and find you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If you forget my love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'll try to remind you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And stay by you when it don't come easy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-2963048514991745978?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/2963048514991745978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=2963048514991745978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2963048514991745978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/2963048514991745978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-dedication.html' title='Valentines Dedication'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4988860098752119802</id><published>2008-02-13T09:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T10:04:44.566-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Due to a newly developed case of writer's block...I am desperate to write something.  I feel heaps of  creativity bottled up inside me, but when I put pencil to paper, or fingers to keypad...I get nothing.  The urge is there, the plug is just not meeting the outlet.  Jess suggested I write what I feel most strongly about today.  Which made me stop and think...what is it that I, at this very moment, feel strong about?  Alas, my mind is not racing with ideas, or thoughts.  I have instead, a sense of peace, and that all is right with the world.  Maybe that's it...there is nothing at this very moment that is overwhelmingly looming above me.  Maybe my writer's mind only works when there is something in my life tormenting my soul.  Or perhaps, like a quote I pasted in my journal says, "I'm a born copier-I just copy the people I like", I have no thoughts of my own outside others poetry and song lyrics that strike a chord in my mind (pun intended :) ).  Although that quote applies to interior decorating...not baring one's soul on paper...it too makes me wonder if I am truly creative, or just a fake.  I have a deep seated desire to be "artsy", well-read, knowledgable about all things cultural...and there are times I feel I succeed...then there are time like the last couple of days, where I feel like the most boring, uninspired human being on the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there is another side to this proverbial coin.  It is nice to be at a place in my life where there is peace around me.  Where I feel things are "right" and my heart is happy.  Happy to simply see the sun, and to come home and roll around with my dogs, happy to cook a palate pleasing dinner, and content to sit with a blanket wrapped around me and watch "2 Days in Paris" for the 4th time.  I think, in a nutshell, this kind of living can be described as "Simplicity".  Simplicity is something I often yearn to attain for my life, but spend my days in a competely different manner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in a way, I'm a bit thankful for the lack of ideas right now.  It reminds me that there have been times in my life when I couldn't write enough...couldn't get the hurt, the fear, the worry, the anger, and the frustration all out on my paper before running out of ink.  While I pray to always have a creative outlet, I am content now with not having anything large and important to write about...and look...after all the worrying about not being able to write...I wrote.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4988860098752119802?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4988860098752119802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4988860098752119802' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4988860098752119802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4988860098752119802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/due-to-newly-developed-case-of-writers.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3553812795924296583</id><published>2008-02-08T14:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T14:04:23.635-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lyrics of the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6y1rCOGo3I/AAAAAAAAABU/zv4gITVYvf8/s1600-h/jack+j.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164702623622144882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6y1rCOGo3I/AAAAAAAAABU/zv4gITVYvf8/s320/jack+j.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It feels right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It feels wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It feels like when you have it, then it's gone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I want more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;More and more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;And if you steal the fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Give me some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Cause the sun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Disobeys while it waits for a friend to arrive from the past&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;What holds us around, and around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;While we wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;~Jack Johnson~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;While We Wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3553812795924296583?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3553812795924296583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3553812795924296583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3553812795924296583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3553812795924296583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/lyrics-of-day.html' title='Lyrics of the Day'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6y1rCOGo3I/AAAAAAAAABU/zv4gITVYvf8/s72-c/jack+j.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5618276833385370994</id><published>2008-02-07T12:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T12:38:55.590-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking a Cue from Dan</title><content type='html'>Here are 75 little (or maybe well) known facts about me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;I get seriously, clinically depressed if I go too long without it.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I forget why I became a teacher.&lt;br /&gt;Then I remember it's for the summers off.&lt;br /&gt;I love my family and friends more than anything.&lt;br /&gt;I am never more happy than when both groups are all together.&lt;br /&gt;I drive an FJ Cruiser that is pretty bad ass&lt;br /&gt;but would rather drive a Jeep Wrangler.&lt;br /&gt;I love vintage clothes&lt;br /&gt;and have what some would say a really eclectic fashion sense.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm not sure if that's good or bad.&lt;br /&gt;I am obsessed with anything labeled organic, or all-natural&lt;br /&gt;and only use all natural products on my skin/hair&lt;br /&gt;as well as on our dogs.&lt;br /&gt;Of which we have 2.&lt;br /&gt;One is a pit bull named Slater who is the biggest teddy bear ever.&lt;br /&gt;The other is Duke, a beagle who is totally the boss.&lt;br /&gt;I am a runner by nature, I get so antsy when I sit still for too long.&lt;br /&gt;I love to run in the middle of the day, in July, I feel there is nothing better.&lt;br /&gt;I need to be by water at almost all times...&lt;br /&gt;I hear the ocean calling my name in my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Flip flops are a staple in my wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;I love my newphew just as much as I would if he was my biological child....&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I ever actually want my own children&lt;br /&gt;and am perfectly aware that some people thing that's awful.&lt;br /&gt;I would pack up and move to Africa tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;and sometimes pray that God would send that word.&lt;br /&gt;I want to own a vineyard one day, and live in Italy,&lt;br /&gt;where I will wear linen pants and tank tops every day of the summer.&lt;br /&gt;I love shells, there isn't a room in our house that does not contain at least one.&lt;br /&gt;I dream of being a famous dancer,&lt;br /&gt;and can be found dancing around the house at any given moment.&lt;br /&gt;I love Audrey Hepburn, and wish I lived during her time...&lt;br /&gt;because I feel we could have been best friends&lt;br /&gt;and also because I want to dress like her every day.&lt;br /&gt;I love to sing&lt;br /&gt;and will do it loudly&lt;br /&gt;but am fully cognizant of the fact that God did not bless me with that gift.&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE parties.&lt;br /&gt;I HATE mayonaise, but am willing to try almost anything else.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like most sweets, though&lt;br /&gt;but do love baking so I give them away alot.&lt;br /&gt;I am much more insecure than I come across.&lt;br /&gt;I have to work very hard to let go of control and not be boss of everything.&lt;br /&gt;I love decorating&lt;br /&gt;and want to open a vintage/kitschy home store one day. &lt;br /&gt;I will never forget a name&lt;br /&gt;and it drives me BONKERS when people I've known for years can't spell my name right.&lt;br /&gt;I want to get my masters in journalism&lt;br /&gt;or meterology&lt;br /&gt;because I love reading and also weather&lt;br /&gt;and I know these sound strange together. &lt;br /&gt;I walk into a bookstore and think it says to me, "Welcome home, friend."&lt;br /&gt;I think there is a song for every event and every moment in life.&lt;br /&gt;I am addicted to Starbucks,&lt;br /&gt;a Tall Non-fat Caramel Macchiato to be exact.&lt;br /&gt;Or if it's summer, an ICED tall Non-fat Car. Mach.&lt;br /&gt;Although I do love Passion Tea Lemondade.&lt;br /&gt;If I had to pick an all time favorite movie,&lt;br /&gt;I would choose Serendipity.&lt;br /&gt;Although the other 2,500 movies that I love run a close second.&lt;br /&gt;I have a crush on a man named Cary Pierce,&lt;br /&gt;and Trey is convinced I will leave him for Cary if given the chance.&lt;br /&gt;If made to choose, my all time favorite song is "Vineyard"&lt;br /&gt;for many reasons. &lt;br /&gt;I think that Americans are very small minded and need a broader world view than People magazine offers us.&lt;br /&gt;In saying that, I must be honest.&lt;br /&gt;I love People magazine. &lt;br /&gt;I am currently reading 5 books, and love them all. &lt;br /&gt;I love avocados, and any dish that contains them.&lt;br /&gt;I love Youngs Double Chocolate Stout Beer&lt;br /&gt;but only if it is mixed with Lindeman's Framboise...&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I spelled that right, and I don't care.&lt;br /&gt;I will read anything by C.S. Lewis, and pretend to understand every word. &lt;br /&gt;I am thankful at this very moment for Carrie and the CD's she made me because it shows she understands me and knows what I love...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5618276833385370994?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5618276833385370994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5618276833385370994' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5618276833385370994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5618276833385370994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/taking-cue-from-dan.html' title='Taking a Cue from Dan'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-273377754368564345</id><published>2008-02-07T08:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T08:29:56.663-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Plastic Jesus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6sV2COGo2I/AAAAAAAAABM/qDVxqxnFkvs/s1600-h/Cool+Hand+Luke.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164245415763551074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6sV2COGo2I/AAAAAAAAABM/qDVxqxnFkvs/s320/Cool+Hand+Luke.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While watching "Cool Hand Luke" last night I was struck by a song I've never paid attention to before. Jess pointed it out, so I made sure to listen. I was struck by the great theological words in this tune...and wanted to share it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't care if it rains or freezes'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Long as I got my plastic Jesus&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Riding on the dashboard of my car&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Through my trials and tribulations&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And my travels through the nations&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With my plastic Jesus I'll go far &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Riding on the dashboard of my car &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm afraid He'll have to go &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;His magnets ruin my radio &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And if I have a wreck He'll leave a scar &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Riding down a thoroughfare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With His nose up in the air&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A wreck may be ahead, but He don't mind&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Trouble coming He don't see&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He just keeps His eye on me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And any other thing that lies behind &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Riding on the dashboard of my car &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Though the sunshine on His back &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Make Him peel, chip and crack &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A little patching keeps Him up to par&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When I'm in a traffic jam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He don't care if I say "damn"I can let all my curses roll&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus doesn't hear'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cause he has a plastic ear&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The man who invented plastic saved my soul &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Riding on the dashboard of my car &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Once His robe was snowy white &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now it isn't quite so bright &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Stained by the smoke of my cigar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If I weave around at night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And policemen think I'm tight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They never find my bottle, though they ask&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus shelters meFor His head comes off, you see&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Riding on the dashboard of my car &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Ride with me and have a dram &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Of the blood of the Lamb &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Plastic Jesus is a holy bar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-273377754368564345?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/273377754368564345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=273377754368564345' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/273377754368564345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/273377754368564345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/plastic-jesus.html' title='Plastic Jesus'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6sV2COGo2I/AAAAAAAAABM/qDVxqxnFkvs/s72-c/Cool+Hand+Luke.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4892709560036633503</id><published>2008-02-05T13:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T13:46:09.842-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Ten</title><content type='html'>10 websites that I absolutely cannot live without....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.weather.com/"&gt;www.weather.com&lt;/a&gt;- I SO should have been a meteorologist...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.people.com/"&gt;www.people.com&lt;/a&gt;- This website alone allowed me to win the celebrity couples game at the last wedding shower I went to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.relevant.com/"&gt;www.relevant.com&lt;/a&gt;- because I feel very shallow that I posted People before this one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dailycandy.com/"&gt;www.dailycandy.com&lt;/a&gt;- makes me feel urban and cute...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jennsylvania.com/"&gt;www.jennsylvania.com&lt;/a&gt;- makes me laugh more than any other blogger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/"&gt;www.amazon.com&lt;/a&gt;- because I am a book JUNKIE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dominomag.com/"&gt;www.dominomag.com&lt;/a&gt;- has the greatest links to even more websites (including lots of green websites) so I can stay on the internet even longer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ohjoy.blogs.com/"&gt;www.ohjoy.blogs.com&lt;/a&gt;- because it just makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pajiba.com/"&gt;www.pajiba.com&lt;/a&gt;- also makes me laugh like crazy! (see reel time movie reviews)&lt;br /&gt;and last but not least....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/"&gt;www.twitter.com&lt;/a&gt;- for obvious reasons....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK people...add to the list!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4892709560036633503?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4892709560036633503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4892709560036633503' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4892709560036633503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4892709560036633503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/tuesday-ten.html' title='Tuesday Ten'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-404301020828126533</id><published>2008-02-05T09:36:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T09:42:57.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Urban Cowgirls...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6iCxiOGo1I/AAAAAAAAABE/K9GvItaM_3s/s1600-h/letters+045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163520760291435346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6iCxiOGo1I/AAAAAAAAABE/K9GvItaM_3s/s320/letters+045.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's right...that's me...in boots...on a bull....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-404301020828126533?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/404301020828126533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=404301020828126533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/404301020828126533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/404301020828126533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/urban-cowgirls.html' title='Urban Cowgirls...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6iCxiOGo1I/AAAAAAAAABE/K9GvItaM_3s/s72-c/letters+045.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5593580191805390765</id><published>2008-02-04T09:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T09:43:28.067-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What makes me happy on this Monday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6cymCOGo0I/AAAAAAAAAA8/3yaLU7UmvWE/s1600-h/Chagall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163151126816006978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6cymCOGo0I/AAAAAAAAAA8/3yaLU7UmvWE/s320/Chagall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Happiness isn't happiness without a violin playing goat."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5593580191805390765?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5593580191805390765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5593580191805390765' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5593580191805390765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5593580191805390765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-makes-me-happy-on-this-monday.html' title='What makes me happy on this Monday...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6cymCOGo0I/AAAAAAAAAA8/3yaLU7UmvWE/s72-c/Chagall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-1367266216588889844</id><published>2008-02-04T08:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T09:37:05.474-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply Grace</title><content type='html'>My life has run the gamut of every possible human emotion in the last year, but none have been felt so deeply as grief.  I guess I used to think that grief was a word that only applied to death, but over the course of a year I have learned that there is more to death than simply the soul leaving the body on it's way to an eternity spent with it's creator or the one it fought daily on this earth. &lt;br /&gt;In my own life, I have experienced a death of childhood.  I feel up until this season of my life, I was living just as I did as a child.  I didn't question those around me, and had a simple faith, as well as an air of naivety that could only be described as, well, naive. &lt;br /&gt;In this loss of childhood, I also grieved trust.  Trust in myself, as well as trust in others.  What used to be an unabashed faith in my own judgement has now been replaced with questioning every decision at every turn.  On one hand, this is a step forward for me.  I am much less prone to stepping off into the unknown because I did first, thought later.  In the other, I rather enjoyed just doing something, and debating the merits of it later, which is where the grief comes in.  It hurts immensely at times to make decisions that involve emotional toil.  To look at everyone around me and ask myself not only how said decision will affect me, but also the circle of people I surround myself with.  My faith in humanity as a whole has also been shaken.  Not broken, just a bit cracked.  In a former life, I trusted blindly, always believing that everyone around me had my best interest at heart.  I was under the foolish impression that the world really did revolve around me, at least, my small corner of the world did.  Because I have always considered myself a giving, kind, wonderful person (humble as well), I simly assumed so was everyone else.  In the past year, I have learned many things about myself and the world around me.  I have learned that I am not so giving, kind, and most especially, not so wonderful.  I have learned that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me.  Realizing these things about myself was indeed a type of death.  A death of a self-view that, although healthy as a child, was actually quite destructive as an adult. &lt;br /&gt;I have also experienced the type of grief that does come with literal death.  I am, as I write, grappling with the emotions associated with this kind of grief.  My emotions, on a daily basis, seem to be sky high, then basement low at the drop of a hat.  I lose control of these emotions and struggle to get them back under control.  At the slightest mention of death, the tears start flowing, and it's all I can do to keep them at a trickle, not a sob.  I sat through the movie, Atonement, which I loved, but simply lost it at the end.  My mom called to give me news of a friend with cancer, and my mind races to the end...when truly it is only the beginning of a long battle.  I realize that I am trying to control things I cannot control.  My heart is hurting, my mind is reeling with questions, and my raw emotion should take precedence for a time over my usual outward show of happiness. &lt;br /&gt;Grief.&lt;br /&gt;It comes in so many fashions, and we each wear it differently.  The common thread that runs throughout each of our personal grievances is a word that to me, means the complete opposite of grief.&lt;br /&gt;Grace.&lt;br /&gt;Grace in a time of need, in a time where I feel my soul has been scrubbed raw and left bleeding and naked, yet clean, on a podium for all around me to see.  A time when I hear the small, yet persistant voice of God offering what I need most, grace.  To me, there are so many other words wrapped up in that small one. &lt;br /&gt;Love, comfort, forgetfullnes, compassion, beauty, balance, mercy, reprieve. &lt;br /&gt;What I have come to know, is that this word is something offered so freely to me, but that I must choose to accept in each area of my life.  I am not as wonderful as I once thought, but in accepting grace, I can strive to do wonderful things.  I can make a difference in others' lives, by taking what I've been offered, and pouring it out for others.  A simple concept, but one I've only recently started applying to myself.  Others around me don't always have my best interest at heart, but I can accept that due to grace, and it was only in having to accept it myself was I able to extend it to others.  In my pain, my distress, my crying out, I have to take that comfort, that compassion, and in my darkest moments, in amidst all the questions, I have realized that when I accept what is offered to me the pain lessens, the demons quiet, and I truly am comforted. &lt;br /&gt;That is not to say that I don't still have days where even getting out of bed is hard, because I would rather lie there and wallow in my own self pity.  Or days where I am scared my past sins will come back to haunt me and the life I have built will crumble and again leave me standing in shambles.  Days that I don't fight with Satan and let him win battles I so long to overcome. &lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for the grace that has been bestowed upon me.  By my maker, and also those around me.  Those who I have scarred purposely, and for those who have been caught in the aftermath of my recklessness.  And grace from those who know me, truly know me, and yet would still argue that I am, in fact, a little wonderful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-1367266216588889844?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/1367266216588889844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=1367266216588889844' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1367266216588889844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1367266216588889844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/simply-grace.html' title='Simply Grace'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-5858899882102213830</id><published>2008-02-02T18:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T18:16:32.269-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Land of the free, home of the trailer trash...</title><content type='html'>I would like to post a disclaimer to this blog before you get too far.  There might be profanity, and the teensiest bit of snobbishness, and maybe a little stereotyping.  But this, very, true story MUST be told...so read on if you're up to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all began with me....wanting firewood.  I offered Trey the use of the FJ this weekend so that he could bring firewood home from the lake.  However, before said FJ traveled, it needed an oil change, and pronto.  Being the wonderful, thrifty wife that I am...and given the fact that I got off work at 2:00, and had nothing better to do...I said, "Trey, don't worry...I'll take the car to WalMart (henceforth to be referred to simply as, "hell") to get the oil changed."  Trey, with an incredulous tone in is voice replied, "But Katy, you hate WalMart."  **Sidenote...I do.  I HATE WalMart.  I avoid it at all costs.  I think it's, well....evil.**  To which I replied, "Yes, but I'll save like 15 dollars on the oil change." Hence, the thriftiness...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, a girl with the dirtiest fingernails I've ever seen made me feel like a complete moron for not knowing what kind of oil my car used.  They have it on file at the place we USUALLY take it to, people...the place that's 15 dollars more expensive and yet 15 time more classy....if an auto shop could ever be termed "classy".  She stood there and rolled my eyes while  I called Trey and asked...rolled her eyes....now, THAT's customer service, folks.  I hand over the keys, walk inside, and think..."How on earth am I going to kill 20 minutes in this god forsaken store?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st thought....check out the shoes...seems harmless enough.  The FIRST pair of shoes I lay my little eyes on are camoflage ballet slippers (pay attention...they will make a cameo later in this story).  As Carrie and I like to ask, "Why?"  Speaking of Carrie, we are on the phone at this point, giggling over the incredible footwear available, when I stumble across a pair of red crushed velvet clogs.  Red.  Crushed.  Velvet.  At this moment, I say...I have to take a picture...if you were FORCED to wear one of these...which would it be?  In all seriousness...Carrie replied..."How dare you ask that?  That's like asking me to choose between my children."  At which point, I burst into laughter, and I?  Am now the crazy woman in WalMart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to yet another reason WalMart chaps my ass...I figured since I was there, I'd pick up a few groceries.  I need gorgonzola cheese for a dip I was making...anyone want to take a gander on whether WalMart carries gorgonzola?  They don't.  They have Thomas Kincade, painter of light, clocks...but no damn gorgonzola cheese.  I apologize if you are in ownership of one of these beautiful pieces of art, but I'm pretty sure most of my friends have a shred of taste....so I think I'm safe in saying this.  I love how Carrie puts it..."I feel so un-American, but I HATE Thomas Kincade."  No groceries....next stop....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pharmacy.  I suddenly remember I have a prescription that needs to be filled.  "Why do you use WalMart pharmacy, given your strong feelings about the joint?", you might ask.  The answer to that is simply, laziness.  i haven't put forth the effort to switch, and also, the monthly trip to WalMart keeps me grounded...reminds me of my roots.  But, I digress...I'm standing in line, about to put in my order, when a woman STEPS IN FRONT OF ME and sets down her plastic bag FILLED with empty scrip bottles....and without missing a beat says, "I need my Paxil, today!"  At this point, I decide to let it go...the woman needs her meds for goodness sake.  Problem ensues, of course....the sweet little pharmacist can't fill her scrips bc she is from New Mexico and they are all controlled substances.  To which, this woman replies, "But I need my heart meds.  I'm on those, you know, suppositories."  I am NOT making this shit up!  Again, I become the crazy laughing woman in WalMart...I can't handle it, I get the giggles and can't shake them.  Paxil woman finally leaves, I fill my, non-controlled substance, scrip and pray to God above that my car is ready to be picked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrive at the auto section, where this time, a very nice, albeit large haired, woman greets me.  I tell her I need to pick up my car, and no sooner can I get out my name, than someone cuts in front of me...completely cutting me off mid sentence.  Satan's vagina...am I freaking invisible?  Again.  In less than 5 minutes, my entire faith in Americans is crushed.  Have we become THAT rude?  But again, due to the circumstances surrounding this man...I let it slide (mostly so I could take a picture...and as SOON as I figure out how to put pics from my phone on the comp...it will SO be on here...with the r.c.v clogs and slippers)  The man that is so desperate to exchange some lights that won't work, is FIRST, very dirty.  SECOND, he is wearing three (count them) shades of camoflage...shirt, pants, and hat.  Which leads me to wonder if looking at him would be kind of like looking at a disco ball for some small woodland creature?  Confusing, and a bit dizzying...THIRD, he has one arm.  Yes. He does.  One. Arm.  And he felt the need to pretend  I wasn't standing RIGHT THERE!  So, I felt the need to use this time as a photo oppurtunity.  When I sent the pic to Carrie, all she replied was, "Did you send him to the shoe department where he could complete his outfit?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all this, I trek out to my car with the fresh oil...I seriously hope it appreciates it...and call Trey to tell him of the travestys just bestowed on me, and all he could come up with was, "I told you you hated WalMart." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, yes I do...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-5858899882102213830?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/5858899882102213830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=5858899882102213830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5858899882102213830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/5858899882102213830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/land-of-free-home-of-trailer-trash.html' title='Land of the free, home of the trailer trash...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-557540602620750902</id><published>2008-02-01T08:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T08:23:49.884-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='framily'/><title type='text'>Framily Photo...at least for now...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6MrJCOGozI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wGxJ3-MxfJ0/s1600-h/PICT1738.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162017032111563570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6MrJCOGozI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wGxJ3-MxfJ0/s320/PICT1738.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here we are at The Bling Tiger in Shreveport.  A fun time was had by all.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-557540602620750902?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/557540602620750902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=557540602620750902' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/557540602620750902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/557540602620750902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/02/framily-photoat-least-for-now.html' title='Framily Photo...at least for now...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6MrJCOGozI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wGxJ3-MxfJ0/s72-c/PICT1738.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-7712338031388880655</id><published>2008-01-30T12:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T13:01:36.691-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We, in the Rockwall Independent School District, were just told we could have no religious "signatures"on the ends of our emails.  You know, the wonderfulness that is politically correctness.  In response to the demand, a teacher I know is using this as her signature...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It means," said Aslan,..."that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards."&lt;br /&gt;C.S. Lewis&lt;br /&gt;The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-7712338031388880655?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/7712338031388880655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=7712338031388880655' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7712338031388880655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7712338031388880655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/we-in-rockwall-independent-school.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3863274687720332695</id><published>2008-01-30T12:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T12:55:43.217-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am loving....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6DAEyOGoyI/AAAAAAAAAAs/zbv8l46agNg/s1600-h/wallpaperbirds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161336361399526178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6DAEyOGoyI/AAAAAAAAAAs/zbv8l46agNg/s320/wallpaperbirds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am in love with this wallpaper. I think my guest bedroom NEEDS this wallpaper on at least one wall. I actually am in love with birds, period...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3863274687720332695?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3863274687720332695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3863274687720332695' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3863274687720332695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3863274687720332695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-am-in-love-with-this-wallpaper.html' title='I am loving....'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R6DAEyOGoyI/AAAAAAAAAAs/zbv8l46agNg/s72-c/wallpaperbirds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-1671340359112312805</id><published>2008-01-30T08:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T08:25:47.206-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Framily Tree</title><content type='html'>I ran across this quote by Douglas H. Gresham, the stepson of C.S. Lewis, where he was describing his stepfather.  I thought it was quite fitting, describing the quick bond between our "framily". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jack (C.S. Lewis), was a man whose extraordinary scholarship and intellectual ability isolated him from much of mankind.  There were few people among his peers, who could match him in debate or discussion, and those who could, almost inevitably found themselves drawn to one another in a small, tight-knit group which became known as 'The Inklings' (&lt;em&gt;framily&lt;/em&gt;) and which has left us with a legacy of literature (&lt;em&gt;proverbs&lt;/em&gt;).  J.R.R. Tolkien, John Wain, Roger Lancelyn-Green, and Neville Coghill were among those who frequented these informal gatherings."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I would never rise to set us upon the same level as these great wordsmiths, but, this is akin to how I already feel about our kinship.  That, and I just needed a legitimate excuse to use the word kinship in my writing.  :)  Because that is a fun word.  Just like the framily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have a song for us.  :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You're a part time lover and a full time friend&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The monkey on you're back is the latest trend&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here is the church and here is the steeple&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We sure are cute for two ugly people&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So why can't, you forgive me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will find my nitch in your car&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;With my mp3 DVD rumple-packed guitar&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Up up down down left right left right B A start&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You are always trying to keep it real&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm in love with how you feel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We both have shiny happy fits of rage&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You want more fans, I want more stage&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Don Quixote was a steel driving man&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My name is Adam I'm your biggest fan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Squinched up your face and did a dance&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-1671340359112312805?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/1671340359112312805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=1671340359112312805' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1671340359112312805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/1671340359112312805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/framily-tree.html' title='The Framily Tree'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4295039274288486458</id><published>2008-01-28T08:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T09:34:43.690-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Right Stuff</title><content type='html'>Anyone else heard that the ultimate in Boy Bands, aka NKOTB, is staging a reunion/comeback tour? I would like to state that while I'm a bit nervous for them...I MIGHT be the first in line to buy tickets for said reunion tour. Anyone else with me? I'll be wearing my oversized black and hot pink Jordan t shirt, some leggins, a large pink scrunchie, and have no fear, friends...I'll have my NKOTB button on...you remember what I'm talking about.  The six inch pin that doubled as a commemorative picture with a stand and everything? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one question for the boys (men) of NKOTB....why?  After all these years and some quasi-successful music/acting careers why risk all of that for this sure to be bomb of a tour?  You KNOW who will be at these concerts...women like me...upper 20's, some early 30's, who grew up fantasizing that we would someday be Joe's "Cover Girl...", lookin so good, everything's in place....oh uh oh...she's my Cover Girl...wow, the sheer genius of the lyrics brings me to my knees in adoration even now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just answered my own question...Why?  So that girls like me can be taken back to the days of Slumber parties and making up dances to Hangin' Tough.  I would like to invite all of you to start praying now that this tour includes Dallas, and join me at the concert where we will sway, and cry, and scream for the hearthrobs that were once the boys of...New Kids on the Block...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4295039274288486458?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4295039274288486458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4295039274288486458' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4295039274288486458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4295039274288486458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/right-stuff.html' title='The Right Stuff'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-3489907486116406636</id><published>2008-01-25T14:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T16:56:58.607-06:00</updated><title type='text'>this is the survey that never ends....yes it goes on and on my friends...</title><content type='html'>The feature I get the most compliments on would be: ummm...my eyes I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might be surprised to know that I: love to be the center of attention.... (shock, right?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could only have one TV channel, it would be: HGTV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel sexiest in: a flowy, hippieish dress&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could stop: eating junky food&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You won’t believe I’ve never: been out of the country, besides Mexico...not believable bc I have a love for all things un-American&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie I could watch again and again is: Serendipity, Footloose, Center Stage, Napoleon Dynamite (lame, I know) and now...Juno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m currently reading:everything I can get my hands on...Three Cups of Tea, The Kite Runner, 12 Women of the Bible, and Pillars of the Earth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could trade lives with a woman for one day, I’d choose: a woman in a Third World country working to provide someone like me with goods so that i would take my life a little less for granted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you looked in my purse, you’d be puzzled to find:a journal with magazine clippings pasted everywhere...eh...that's all I have...I'm not that puzzling...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something crazy happens; the first person I’d call is:Trey...although he NEVER appreciates the crazy things that happen to me (see the MySpace WalMart blog), then Carrie, my geepsy Val, my brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part of being single is: I?  wouldn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part of being single: I'll take a gander and just guess at this one...getting asked out by anyone you might not want to spend more than the necessary time with...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite part of my body is: eek.  my calves...I'm so over these types of questions....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t get between me and my:Asics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last thing I bought just for me:a double feature DVD, Flashdance and Footloose.  Carrie, I know you're pumped...they have this greatness at Target for $9.44.  I plan on sitting at home tomorrow and watching not one, but both movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A (non-sexual) thing I fantasize about:a pair of brown Michael Kors boots that are so hot it IS kind of sexual&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I won $250,000: I would drop everything and head to Europe with a back pack for a couple of years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst pickup line I’ve ever heard was:Well...actually...last night at The Gingerman, I got hit on by someone REALLY wanting to hit on my friend Summer.  He said, "Those guys don't look like your type...you want to come hang out with us?"  NEVER a good conversation starter when said guy is your husband...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite brand of beer is:  I recently found a blueberry ale...yes, blueberry ale...and it is hella good...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been to a bar with your parents?Um, that party would be over before it began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any friends with the same first name as you? Ummmmm yes....about half my friends are Katie's....but none of them are Katy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was your favorite childhood lunchbox?Barbie and the Rockers...pretty sure I was the envy of all pre-asolescent fashionistas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What place on your body are you the most ticklish?  Oh, gosh...everywhere...it's actually pretty ridiculous...I keep hoping I'll grow out of it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the most comfortable item of clothing you own? my North Face Denali jacket&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whose wedding will you be attending next? One: I would like to say that the person who wrote this suvery does not have the greatest grammar...and Two: Reanna's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know of anyone who’s expecting a baby? several people, but most importantly...Paigie-poo...I love being an aunt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What magazine would you like to subscribe to, but don’t? Relevant...I just steal it from my mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you wearing anything that has a special meaning? my wedding ring...which actually won't come off even if I so desired thanks to an injury from a spontaneous game of football and my SMU Rugby sweatshirt Justin got me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words to live by: "Dream Big!"  ~Juno&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-3489907486116406636?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/3489907486116406636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=3489907486116406636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3489907486116406636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/3489907486116406636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/this-is-survey-that-never-endsyes-it.html' title='this is the survey that never ends....yes it goes on and on my friends...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-419601822471831879</id><published>2008-01-24T09:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T09:58:22.853-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Warning....plot spoilers ahead...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to see "There Will be Blood" last night, and oh. my. gosh.  I went with two guys, my husband and his brother, and I was fully prepared that this was a "guy movie".  But, I love, love, love Daniel Day-Lewis so I figured it would at the very least, be....well...good.  Not to mention all the Oscar nods and the raving critic reviews.  We bundled up and braved the cold, hitting up Trinity Hall first for some Nutty Irishmens (which, by the way....if you live in Dallas...I recommend quite highly), then paid $10 dollars a ticket to sit for the next three hours wondering what the heck was happening on screen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved about the first 30 minutes of this flick...dirty men in oil derricks, dusty ranches, breathtaking and stark scenery, intriguing characters...I thought, this is a pretty cool, if not overly exciting movie.  After that, it totally lost me.  I could not follow the plot at all...and wanted to scream at most of the main characters, "What are you thinking??"  No ONE had it together in this movie...well, except for the deaf son...who later turns out to NOT be Daniel Day-Lewis' son...wow.  DDL did play a genius role as a psychopathic oil tycoon.  That is pretty much my only positive comment on this wasted three hours of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was interesting, however, is the intimate look into the world of oil.  My father-in-law, who passed away over Christmas, was a petroleum engineer.  The entire movie, my husband kept saying, "Dad would LOVE this".  So, when we got in the car, I had so many questions pertaining to drilling oil that Trey was like, "Ummm...I'll take you to a derrick and explain it to you."  To which I kindly replied..."Ew.  No thank you." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my problem with this movie is that I like happy movies.  I like intellectual movies, I like thinking at the cinema...I don't like not being able to follow an entire plot line.  There doesn't have to be a happy ending ("Once" being a prime example of this), but I like for things to be wrapped up neatly and for all characters to have their crap together at the end.  This movie ended the opposite...a dead guy on a bowling alley floor and a bastard son thrown out as a "competitor" in the oil field. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, I also saw "27 Dresses" this week...and loved it simply for the fluff that is was.  So much for intellectual movies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-419601822471831879?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/419601822471831879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=419601822471831879' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/419601822471831879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/419601822471831879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/warning.html' title=''/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-4479445560444539524</id><published>2008-01-24T08:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T08:41:47.036-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More iTunes fun...</title><content type='html'>My iTunes alphabet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I Need, Matt Kearney&lt;br /&gt;Babylon, David Gray&lt;br /&gt;Calling All Friends, Low Stars&lt;br /&gt;Dancefloors, My Morning Jacket&lt;br /&gt;Edge of Love, Mindy Smith&lt;br /&gt;Fairytale, Sara Bareilles&lt;br /&gt;Gotta Have You, The Weepies&lt;br /&gt;Heartbreaker, The Lonely Hearts&lt;br /&gt;I'll Stop the World, The Cure&lt;br /&gt;Jacksonville Skyline, Whiskeytown&lt;br /&gt;Kate, Ben Folds Five (duh)&lt;br /&gt;Let Go, Frou Frou&lt;br /&gt;Mercy Rains, Shane &amp;amp; Shane&lt;br /&gt;Night Train, Amos Lee&lt;br /&gt;Open Your Eyes, Snow Patrol&lt;br /&gt;Paper Moon, Whiskeytown&lt;br /&gt;Quando, Quando, Quando, Michael Buble&lt;br /&gt;Rocks Won't Cry, Shane &amp;amp; Shane&lt;br /&gt;Stars Go Blue, Bono&lt;br /&gt;Talk, Coldplay&lt;br /&gt;Unclean, Jolly Napier&lt;br /&gt;Vineyard, Jackopierce&lt;br /&gt;Walk on the Ocean, Toad the Wet Sprocket&lt;br /&gt;X &amp;amp; Y, Coldplay&lt;br /&gt;You Said, Shane &amp;amp; Shane&lt;br /&gt;Z...ugh...I had every letter until Z!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is actually a pretty bad A play list!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-4479445560444539524?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/4479445560444539524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=4479445560444539524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4479445560444539524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/4479445560444539524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/more-itunes-fun.html' title='More iTunes fun...'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-6442640178901625724</id><published>2008-01-23T08:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T09:13:45.833-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='K2'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Afghanistan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pakistan'/><title type='text'>Three Cups of Tea</title><content type='html'>I have no idea why it's taken me so long to read this book.  It is excellent.  It tells the story of Greg Mortenson, a mountain climber turned philantropist/peace activist.  In his attempt to scale K2 (a feat that I could only dream about), Greg ends up in the tiny village of Korphe in Pakistan.  He is taken aback by the villagers hospitality amidst their poverty, and also by the lack of education options available to the children, especially the girls.  He vows to come back and build them a school, a rash promise for a mountain climber with no job prospects at home.  Fast forward almost 15 years and that rash promise has turned into the reality of 53 schools in both Pakistan and Afghanistan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What really strikes me about this man's work is his commitment to offer both boys and girls an education, and the willingness of the native people to turn from their ancestors thinking and embrace a more balanced education.  Never before have women been educated in these countries.  I wept when reading the tales of the FIRST women educated in entire villages.  Wow.  I consider myself a pretty global minded person, and keep abreast of international issues, especially in Africa, for whose people my husband and I have a burden for.  I know that it is a complete reality for these countries that education is very limited, but this book further opened my eyes to how stark that reality really is.  However, what Central Asia Institute does is offer a "balanced education", rather than the militant education formerly offered.  In other words, this agency is teaching peace in otherwise war torn countries in hopes that with each student, the message of peace will be spread just a little more beyond the borders of the villages. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I ALSO realized while reading this book is that Greg Mortenson is not a celebrity.  He does not have millions of dollars at his disposal, can't drop what he's doing to film a movie to finance his next trip.  He has made friends on the government and private sector level, in both countries, who have lain aside their differences in order to give their next generations oppurtunities they never had.  I can't help but think, in the middle of so much death and destruction, that some part of these government officials long for the next generation to stand and declare peace.  Yes, yes, that is a far fetched hope, and a feat that would take great courage...but I applaud Greg Mortenson for making a small, yet HUGE difference in this fight for peace.  Although I appreciate the efforts of people with so much available to them, because every little bit helps, but in my eyes, people like Greg, and the others involved with CAI are the real heroes.  And I feel challeged, challenged to have more than a global mind.  To be globally active, to search out oppurtunities that are available. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I challenge anyone that reads this to pick up Three Cups of Tea.  Be challenged, read into Greg's passion and turn it into passion for what's around you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-6442640178901625724?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/6442640178901625724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=6442640178901625724' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/6442640178901625724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/6442640178901625724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/three-cups-of-tea.html' title='Three Cups of Tea'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6501956836972881241.post-7682781987819269553</id><published>2008-01-21T22:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T22:18:56.957-06:00</updated><title type='text'>iTunes fun</title><content type='html'>My friend Carrie recently posted a blog challenging everyone to review their iTunes library and list out, A to Z, their most embarrassing/cheesy songs...here is my list....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. Annaleigh Ashford, "ohmygod, you guys" from the Broadwat production of Legally Blonde...don't even give me shit, bc it was a free download of the week...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B. Bob Seger, "Night Moves"....on my top 10 list of favorite songs. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. Christopher Cross, "Sailing"....I don't care what anyone says, that, my friends, is a classic...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D. DJ Jazzy Jeff &amp;amp; The Fresh Prince, "Summertime"...enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E. The only E artist I have is Eels, and I'm certainly not embarrassed of them...so I'll skip right to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F. Fergie, "Fergalicious"....it's almost sinful how much I actually like that song...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G. George Strait, "How 'bout them cowgirls"...I like to pretend I'm one sometimes...a cowgirl, that is....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H. Hanson, "Penny &amp;amp; Me"...ouch....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I. Believe it or not, the only I artist I have is Ice-T, "I'm your pusher"...thanks Casey, for downloading Hip Hop Gold into my iTunes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J. Jefferson Airplane..."We Built this City"...I? LOVE this song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K. Kelis, "Bossy"...ask Trey why I have this song on my computer. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L. LFO, "Summer Girls"...I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M. ummmm.....Marie Osmond, "Meet me in Montana"....thank you Carrie...could also make a debut on my top ten list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N. Nickelback, "Rockstar"....I just feel soooo....mainstream for my unabashed love for this edgy tune...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O. I like all my O songs...we'll go with the oldest....Oasis, "Wonderwall"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P. Plain White T's, "Hey There Delilah"...it was cute the first five hundred times it was played on the radio...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q. haha...the only Q I have is Queen Latifah, "U.N.I.T.Y.", also from Casey's Hip Hop Gold CD...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R. Rascal Flatts, "Fast Cars and Freedom", my friend Timmy sings this at karaoke (Yes, Carrie...THAT karaoke bar...) and it makes me smile....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S. S Club 7...."Never had a dream come true"...I'm actually not even sure how this GOT on my computer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T. Taylor Hicks, "Georgia on my mind"...yeah....the "Soul Patrol" kind of ended up being a dud...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U. Uncle Kraker, "Follow me"...catchy, if shallow, little diddy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V. Vanilla Ice, "Ice, Ice, Baby"...There is no need to defend this cultural icon of a song...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W. Warren G, "Regulators"...also on the top ten list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X. Yeah....no X's?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y. No Y's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z. The only Z's I have are ZZ Top...and in NO way am I embarrassed of that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6501956836972881241-7682781987819269553?l=saltwaterkate.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/feeds/7682781987819269553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6501956836972881241&amp;postID=7682781987819269553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7682781987819269553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6501956836972881241/posts/default/7682781987819269553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://saltwaterkate.blogspot.com/2008/01/itunes-fun.html' title='iTunes fun'/><author><name>Kate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05847359023517288297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lBZNekjCZ8g/R5VvrB63ktI/AAAAAAAAAAc/5bj-rgy9jwk/S220/kate+self+portrait.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
