<?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-1383788668719956565</id><updated>2012-01-25T16:39:50.979-06:00</updated><category term='nostalgia'/><category term='pictures'/><category term='sad'/><category term='graveyard'/><category term='news'/><category term='weekends'/><category term='movies'/><category term='antiques'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='ashley'/><category term='self realization'/><category term='louisiana'/><category term='green'/><category term='sex'/><category term='travel'/><category term='memories'/><category term='charity'/><category term='family'/><category term='sports'/><category term='video'/><category term='kids'/><category term='future'/><category term='facebook'/><category term='weather'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='oil'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='annoyed'/><category term='hurricane'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='politics'/><category term='crush'/><category term='intro'/><category term='music'/><category term='television'/><category term='men vs women'/><category term='crafts'/><category term='genealogy'/><category term='parents'/><category term='friendship'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='pain'/><category term='husband'/><category term='religion'/><category term='hooping'/><category term='race'/><category term='blogging'/><category term='love'/><category term='fitness'/><title type='text'>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</title><subtitle type='html'>I'm just a girl living a life I never thought I would. Don't blame me for your gas prices.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>372</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8026480288977968242</id><published>2012-01-20T08:40:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T09:00:21.068-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rick "Good Hair" Perry: It's been hilarious</title><content type='html'>I don't even know what to say about the 2012 Presidential campaign. Certainly nothing that hasn't already been said. The newest news? Texas Governor Rick Perry has now dropped out of the race. I'm sure the rest of the nation is heaving a sigh of relief, unfortunately for us here in Texas, that means he's coming home to continue being an ineffectual governor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing the kind of people it takes to run for office. First, you must be insanely arrogant. Every person who has thought "I could run this country", and followed through with actually throwing their hat into the ring, is so completely full of themselves, they probably don't have a ton of good friends. That goes for Clinton (both), Bush (both), Obama, Dukakis, Hatch, and many, many more. The thing about Rick Perry is that he's incredibly arrogant, yet was unprepared to prove WHY he was so much better of a choice for president, concluding that he obviously was not. The guy doesn't know how old you have to be to vote. He doesn't know when election day is. He doesn't think texting while driving should be illegal. He blocks journalists who don't agree with him on twitter, yet his twitter is public. WTF? And what gets me is that everyone thinks all of Texas support this guy, and we don't! I guess they have reason to believe that though, since this moron keeps winning. No wonder he didn't want to debate during the last gubernatorial election. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom line, not everyone in this state is as out of it as Rick Perry. And interestingly enough, after nearly 2 years, I have yet to meet anyone who will admit to voting for him. So be grateful for the "sorta" sane politicians in your state. Unless Pete King represents you. That dude is nuts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8026480288977968242?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8026480288977968242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8026480288977968242' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8026480288977968242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8026480288977968242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2012/01/rick-good-hair-perry-its-been-hilarious.html' title='Rick &quot;Good Hair&quot; Perry: It&apos;s been hilarious'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6611128920743279477</id><published>2012-01-19T07:46:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T08:08:39.220-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Purses, one of my great loves</title><content type='html'>There is a purse at Target I want. Yes, I know I have more purses than I can count on 2 hands, or maybe even 4, but I can't help it. It's my favorite accessory. This specific purse at Target is different though. It's not anything really special, but the fact that it hasn't gone on sale makes me want it so badly. It's not even expensive, but I can't justify the purchase. One of my besties and I go to Target ALL the time, just to see if it's finally on clearance. I can't even find a picture of it on the Target website, that's how elusive it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uwRY5a8sGAg/Txgjkna4tpI/AAAAAAAAAkg/7rZBRNPMQH8/s1600/lplptote.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uwRY5a8sGAg/Txgjkna4tpI/AAAAAAAAAkg/7rZBRNPMQH8/s320/lplptote.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699344440401376914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;This is not THE purse. Just another I like. &lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my first purse memories was this German, cloth, cross body purse I had as a kid. It had designs of a Bavarian boy and girl on the front, in old fashioned German clothing. I loved it so much, I wonder where it is now. I can always remember my mom telling me to wear it across my chest and not just on my shoulder, because that's safer. While I've used traditional hand bags in recent years (many given to me by my mother, who has amazing taste in purses), I've gone back to cross body bags lately. Right now I'm on a mission to find the perfect one that's not too big, but will hold everything I need so that I don't have to take a carry on bag when I go to Germany next month. Something with Mary Poppins technology. It must also be gorgeous, in the perfect color that I'll only know when I see it, and be $15. I guess I'll be looking forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6611128920743279477?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6611128920743279477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6611128920743279477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6611128920743279477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6611128920743279477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2012/01/purses-one-of-my-great-loves.html' title='Purses, one of my great loves'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uwRY5a8sGAg/Txgjkna4tpI/AAAAAAAAAkg/7rZBRNPMQH8/s72-c/lplptote.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-290336334589759077</id><published>2012-01-15T08:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T08:30:00.420-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Jet settin'</title><content type='html'>I swear I will get better at this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big stuff coming up! Husband has to go to Germany for work, so I'm tagging along, and so are my folks! I'm so, so, so excited, it's been ages since I've been back there, and Husband never has. There is something about Europe that is just inexplicable, something in the way the air smells, it's just magical. Oh and bonus, my passport showed up ONE WEEK after I applied. That's the US government doing their thang. Granted I sent my old one (which was too old to be considered a renewal), so maybe that helped, but still. Let's get some of those workers into Congress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next session of hoop classes starts February 23rd! Can't wait to spread the hoop love to more people. I've been learning some new tricks lately, which is always fun. My folks are in town this weekend so my mom is coming to the Sunday morning hoop jam today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry this whole post comes off as a list. I promise, this week, better stuff. Tebow, the presidential election, and my never ending visits to Target to see if a very specific purse is finally on sale, and how that's driving me mad. Happy weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-290336334589759077?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/290336334589759077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=290336334589759077' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/290336334589759077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/290336334589759077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2012/01/jet-settin.html' title='Jet settin&apos;'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1390582929147505373</id><published>2011-12-24T09:34:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T09:36:39.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally</title><content type='html'>Holidays are in full swing. Remember that post about my old best friend who I never heard from? I've been so sad about her for a year, to the point where I dream about her once a week. Last night at my amazing friend Eric's annual Christmas party, she came, and we hashed things out. It feels great to start the new year without any grudges. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go out and settle something. Being mad isn't worth it, especially if you really love them. You never know what's going on in people's lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1390582929147505373?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1390582929147505373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1390582929147505373' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1390582929147505373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1390582929147505373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/12/finally.html' title='Finally'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7164245384038512905</id><published>2011-12-07T10:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T11:42:51.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the most busy time of the year...</title><content type='html'>I can't believe it's been so long since I blogged. I suck! Like everyone else, the holidays are taking over my life. I'm nearly done with shopping though, and looking forward to the weekend, where we have no plans at all! Last weekend my folks were in town, and we did one of my most favorite thing, rode around looking at Christmas lights! I realize I'm not a child, but there is nothing that gets me more into the spirit like trying to find that one amazing house or neighborhood. I'm so grateful that Husband tolerates my need to constantly go down just ONE more street, and that he secretly likes it a bit too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we went to dinner at Zelko Bistro in the city with a couple of husband's coworkers and their wives. Lovely company and a lovely meal. Today I'm suffering from a food hangover, it was all so great. A bruscetta with hummus and red peppers and garlic and feta and olives. I could have eaten just that. Then grits with shrimp and this garlic and soy agave nectar. Absolutely amazing. The restaurant was small and packed, and coupled with table talk of Germany and Brazil, it all made me miss Europe so very much. Hopefully we can make a trip to Germany at some point soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something about the holidays always remind me of Germany. We always had advent calendars with chocolates, and I can remember the first thing I thought about every day was my chocolate. Now I'm 6 days behind on the ones I got us at World Market last month. On the night of December 5th, it's a tradition in Germany to put your shoes out, and wake up on the 6th to find small treats. As any kid would, I adored this and the days leading up to the 6th seemed so long. This year I totally forgot. It's strange to see the signs of getting older that aren't psychical. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you are having a very happy holiday! Take some time out to really appreciate the time of year, it goes by so quickly, and soon enough we'll be bored and cold in January.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7164245384038512905?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7164245384038512905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7164245384038512905' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7164245384038512905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7164245384038512905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/12/its-most-busy-time-of-year.html' title='It&apos;s the most busy time of the year...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2387653382741096417</id><published>2011-11-20T21:37:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T21:46:31.592-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast is the most important meal of the day</title><content type='html'>Oh I am sore. Had a hoop meetup this morning, and didn't eat before hand, so after two hours I felt like I was going to pass out. That was the first time I ever felt like that. I was like DJ on that episode of Full House when she was trying to lose weight, except I didn't do it intentionally lol. Met some new ladies though, which was super rad! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you believe Thanksgiving is merely days away?! I just can't comprehend it. Silly I know. It was 84 degrees today, and that makes it so hard to get excited about the holidays. But a guy down the street already has lights lining his house, and I couldn't be happier about it. I know a lot of people get irrationally angry about others who start celebrating early, but really, why does it matter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much to say about the Republican candidates for president and the Occupy Wall Street movement, but thinking or writing about anything important right now seems impossible. Have you seen Breaking Dawn yet? I haven't. I'm sure I will, but I couldn't get worked up enough to see it the weekend it came out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not stopping me from watching Twilight on FX right now. I fail, I know lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2387653382741096417?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2387653382741096417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2387653382741096417' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2387653382741096417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2387653382741096417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/11/breakfast-is-most-important-meal-of-day.html' title='Breakfast is the most important meal of the day'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7959820372267620815</id><published>2011-11-08T13:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T13:47:46.557-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pro choice goes both ways</title><content type='html'>I just read that Michelle Duggar is expecting her 20th child. You know the Duggar's, that fundamental Christian family who have a show on TLC called 19 Kids and Counting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQLtEPyGiCs/TrmHF1Q0v3I/AAAAAAAAAis/MQw6aLq6qyw/s1600/fc-duggars.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 273px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQLtEPyGiCs/TrmHF1Q0v3I/AAAAAAAAAis/MQw6aLq6qyw/s320/fc-duggars.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672713739916590962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see a lot of people are angry about this, and I can't really understand why. Sure, it's bizarre when someone in 2011 is having 20 kids, this isn't the 1800's. And I'm the first one to admit that I agree with very little, if anything, this family believes in (though if you watch their show, you'll see they're actually pretty nice). But if they want to keep having kids, and they don't rely on financial help from anyone, what right do I have to be pissed about it? I'm pro choice, and people should remember that term goes both ways. Life is too short to be angry with people I don't know doing something that doesn't affect me. Of course we know the world is over populated, but I'm not ready to start calling out specific people, putting all of the blame on them and not the other families in the world who do the same thing, yet aren't in the public eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spend time loving, not hating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7959820372267620815?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7959820372267620815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7959820372267620815' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7959820372267620815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7959820372267620815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/11/pro-choice-goes-both-ways.html' title='Pro choice goes both ways'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQLtEPyGiCs/TrmHF1Q0v3I/AAAAAAAAAis/MQw6aLq6qyw/s72-c/fc-duggars.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2761129328674428461</id><published>2011-11-01T13:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T17:28:44.861-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween is over, come on Christmas!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wiJ3BSlvYeY/TrA4TcxJFmI/AAAAAAAAAiU/zJjItC40A_Q/s1600/halloweenphotobooth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wiJ3BSlvYeY/TrA4TcxJFmI/AAAAAAAAAiU/zJjItC40A_Q/s320/halloweenphotobooth.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670093837650433634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;Feliz Dia de los Muertos!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A silly picture of me from Halloween night. Husband is in Denver for a convention, so I handed out candy at Kat and Dustin's house. Coupled with cocktails and their hilarious neighbors, it was a great time. Unfortunately I made the sophomoric mistake of mixing alcohols and woke up at 4am feeling awful. I'm so too old to get sick from 2 glasses of wine and 1 cocktail. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you NaNoWriMo? National Novel Writing Month is upon us. 30 days, 50,000 words. I've got a great idea this year, but I feel like using it for this doesn't give the respect it deserves. Nothing says I can't make it even better once the month is over though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admission: I'm listening to Christmas music today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2761129328674428461?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2761129328674428461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2761129328674428461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2761129328674428461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2761129328674428461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/11/halloween-is-over-come-on-christmas.html' title='Halloween is over, come on Christmas!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wiJ3BSlvYeY/TrA4TcxJFmI/AAAAAAAAAiU/zJjItC40A_Q/s72-c/halloweenphotobooth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2003431508797903515</id><published>2011-10-24T12:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T12:26:50.259-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grouplove, in more than one way</title><content type='html'>Trying to catch my breath after an amazing weekend! Friday night husband and I had a fancy dinner out to celebrate our 9 year dating anniversary, Saturday we shopped, then had dinner with a bunch of friends, then to Fitzgerald's for the Grouplove show, which was FANTASTIC. I'm not really a live music fan at all, but in a tiny venue with a band that actually sounds good in person, that I can do all the time. Got to meet the lead singer, thanks to some pushy friends. Thanks ladies! And thanks to everyone else in our group of friends, it was an amazing time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/l3EqMUl6r-Q" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A video of the band performing Colours that I shot with my new iPhone 4, present from Husband (I'm too cynical to want the new model of any electronic device immediately after release. I need to work on that in this new decade of my life)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday we saw Paranormal Activity 3, and while it was creepy, the theater was empty so the atmosphere wasn't nearly as fun as the first movie. I was too terrified to look at the screen most of the time lol. Then last night husband brought me a red velvet birthday cake and red velvet ice cream. Sigh. Too much goodness wrapped into just 3 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I finish up my list of 50 things to do before I turned 30? No way. But I did a lot of the important ones, like relearning to hula hoop (which ended up going way further!), camping in the desert, parasailing, and finding my place in religion (for the most part). Still have to work on my last goal though: reflect on how much life there is to live after 30, let the negativity regarding it go, enjoy people and their silly ways, and learn to enjoy my own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2003431508797903515?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2003431508797903515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2003431508797903515' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2003431508797903515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2003431508797903515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/10/grouplove-in-more-than-one-way.html' title='Grouplove, in more than one way'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/l3EqMUl6r-Q/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5416426575247406284</id><published>2011-10-18T14:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T14:36:01.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mix it up</title><content type='html'>I'm sorry I've been slacking here. Things have just been CRAZY lately. Busy, busy is nice though. Spent the weekend with husband and my parents here in Houston. They bestowed on me my birthday present, an amazing Red Kitchen Aid mixer, something I've wanted for years and years. I just used it today to make a cake for husband, and WOW, it makes baking so much easier! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhpu0O8DP-c/Tp3U4R3NI6I/AAAAAAAAAgk/k9Ynvgfk3tU/s1600/mixer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhpu0O8DP-c/Tp3U4R3NI6I/AAAAAAAAAgk/k9Ynvgfk3tU/s320/mixer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664917969634665378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night we went to Red Robin for dinner, and while the food was fab as always, the waitress was ridic. I am NOT one to complain about service, but when a server ignores the women at the table then openly flirts with one of the men, I can't help but get annoyed. Then it became so obvious it was funny, so my mom and I started talking loudly in German while I side eyed the woman. That made me feel better. I love goofing off with my folks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the weather has cooled down, and all of my autumn nostalgia is coming to a head. This Saturday marks 9 years husband and I have been together. NINE YEARS. Has that much time really passed? Hard to comprehend the number 9 when we are still learning new things about each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halloween is coming up. Not sure what we're doing, if anything. Halloween is like New Years Eve, it never turns out the way you expected. What are you doing for the holiday?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5416426575247406284?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5416426575247406284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5416426575247406284' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5416426575247406284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5416426575247406284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/10/mix-it-up.html' title='Mix it up'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhpu0O8DP-c/Tp3U4R3NI6I/AAAAAAAAAgk/k9Ynvgfk3tU/s72-c/mixer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-9138064900272900984</id><published>2011-10-11T09:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T10:57:56.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Less is more</title><content type='html'>This morning a friend posted an article about having more by owning less (&lt;a href="http://www.dailygood.org/view.php?sid=56"&gt;http://www.dailygood.org/view.php?sid=56&lt;/a&gt;), and while running at the park near my house, I thought about my own purchasing habits. There was definitely a time where buying things was important to me. When husband and I were starting off a home together, there were things you just have to shop for, like towels and shower curtains and a table to eat at. Then there were times, when I was younger, that I loved labels, like Fendi and Louis Vuitton. Then my Tiffany &amp; Co. phase. Now? I'm almost ashamed of that behavior. Do any of those things really make us happier? When I think about the things recently that have made me giddy, it's those things money can't buy, like sitting in my yard with some of my best friends, drinking a bottle of wine while discussing Star Wars and global politics. It's the feeling I got when I passed my Hoopnotica certification, then found a beautiful studio to teach at (October 27th, 10:30am, Yoga Studio of The Woodlands!). It's the afternoon husband and I sat outside after work while the guy fixed our AC, catching up on each other's day instead of turning on the TV or playing on our phones, like we usually do. It's reminiscing about the beach with my sister, or laughing on the phone with my mom. No iPad or diamond jewelry can give me that same feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the luxury of not worrying about if the bills can be paid, of knowing if I get sick I have health insurance. And believe me, in today's world, those are luxuries. So if you've got that, be happy. Who cares about brand new cars or designer labels? Just give me my hoop and my new favorite song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1x1wjGKHjBI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-9138064900272900984?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/9138064900272900984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=9138064900272900984' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/9138064900272900984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/9138064900272900984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/10/less-is-more.html' title='Less is more'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/1x1wjGKHjBI/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4451025010785196351</id><published>2011-10-03T15:56:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T16:22:16.769-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A quote from me!</title><content type='html'>Had an amazing weekend with family and friends, and at Germanfest in Louisiana. Too good. First of all, I realized on Friday night (after eating amazing fried chicken and gumbo from Mama's Fried Chicken with my parents) that there is a quote from me on Hoopnotica's certification page! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MoP3g94-EHo/TooiBrLTvmI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/QARI8uejrnc/s1600/Certification2.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MoP3g94-EHo/TooiBrLTvmI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/QARI8uejrnc/s320/Certification2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659373293909818978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then on Saturday was the festival, where we ate and drank to our hearts content. Later that evening I got an email/phone call from the owner of a local yoga studio who is interested in having me teach a hoop class there! Had drinks Saturday night with friends, then Sunday we watched the Saints win with my in laws. Unfortunately, that's where the good stops. We came home to a broken air conditioner. I'm sure many of you up north are thinking, "So what, it's October", but it's going to be in the 90's later this week. The change of seasons on the calendar means nothing to Houston. So now I'm waiting for the guy to come fix it. Luckily Kat lives a mere minute and a half away, and has offered us to stay there tonight if we can't take the heat. Just might take her up on that. Also, I watched Kat's dog last week and today I got an awesome homemade lasagna from her! Cannot WAIT to heat it up. So come fix my AC dude so I can get on that!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was your weekend? Highs and lows?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4451025010785196351?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4451025010785196351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4451025010785196351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4451025010785196351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4451025010785196351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/10/quote-from-me.html' title='A quote from me!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MoP3g94-EHo/TooiBrLTvmI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/QARI8uejrnc/s72-c/Certification2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1831521561585169273</id><published>2011-09-28T20:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T20:54:25.563-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vibrams and Pinterest, ya got me.</title><content type='html'>Feeling blah and a bit defeated. I feel like my hooping has hit a plateau, my writing (both public and private) has slowed down tremendously, and I haven't gotten to chapter 2 in the book I'm reading for my book club. On a better note, I've started jogging/walking every morning, though I've yet to see the effects of the additional exercise. That's frustrating. I bought a pair of Vibram Five Fingers shoes, on the advice of nearly everyone I know. They aren't exactly easy to get used to, but it's happening slowly by surely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4nuZHOsNgHs/ToPORlgnf8I/AAAAAAAAAgI/dT2zYHLYUUw/s1600/Vibram-FiveFingers-Sprint-Women-Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4nuZHOsNgHs/ToPORlgnf8I/AAAAAAAAAgI/dT2zYHLYUUw/s320/Vibram-FiveFingers-Sprint-Women-Full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657592358429491138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creepy looking, right? Amazingly enough, they made my work out go by super quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just decided to jump on the Pinterest wagon, and it was fun for a few days, but now all of the pictures are starting to look the same. So many white backgrounds! It's a neat place though to put birthday ideas. The big 30 is coming up. I know, I know, I mention it all the time. The idea of 30 is starting to grow on me. Life is what it is and I can't change what has or hasn't happened yet. Husband already got me my gift, I'm going to &lt;a href="http://www.hottiehoopcamp.com"&gt;Hottie Hoop Camp&lt;/a&gt;! 4 days/3 nights at a beach house with a bunch of awesome ladies, doing tons of hooping! It's not until March, and I'm not really patient, but I know it's going to be amazing. Also we're going to see Grouplove live at Fitzgeralds the night of my birthday. So far it's shaping up to be a fun weekend. No, it's not the Marie Antoinette-esque party of 2009, but good stuff indeed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1831521561585169273?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1831521561585169273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1831521561585169273' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1831521561585169273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1831521561585169273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/09/vibrams-and-pinterest-ya-got-me.html' title='Vibrams and Pinterest, ya got me.'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4nuZHOsNgHs/ToPORlgnf8I/AAAAAAAAAgI/dT2zYHLYUUw/s72-c/Vibram-FiveFingers-Sprint-Women-Full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7393460693379864026</id><published>2011-09-23T04:46:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T15:24:20.540-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lizards and creepsters</title><content type='html'>Husband was out of town for the first half of the week at a conference in San Antonio. I was going to go with him, but I had things to do here so I decided to be responsible. It was the first time we spent any significant time apart since he stopped working offshore and moved into the office. It was pretty bizarre. Especially when a creepy lizard got into the house. I hate anything squiggly like lizards or frogs. My only choices were to let the cats maul it to death or get it out on my own. Times like that you miss having a husband around. But, when you can end the day eating breakfast Hot Pockets instead of cooking, that's pretty nice too. Of course I'm happy to have him home though. He's better than breakfast Hot Pockets any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the first potluck dinner with our friends who moved here from Louisiana this summer. Amazing food, amazing drinks, fantastic company. Speaking of the company, Kat and I were on the highway the other day and this guy was in a truck next to us looking at me. So I winked at him and smiled and we roared with laughter. It wasn't quite so funny when he wouldn't pass us and seemed to be attempting to show us his "member" if you know what I mean. Yikes!! I-45 is scary enough without creepsters being creepy and not paying attention to the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any big weekend plans?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7393460693379864026?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7393460693379864026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7393460693379864026' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7393460693379864026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7393460693379864026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/09/lizards-and-creepsters.html' title='Lizards and creepsters'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6337789739233691665</id><published>2011-09-21T09:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T09:44:03.314-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo dawg, I heard you like Facebook</title><content type='html'>Facebook has changed again. I never (or rarely) complain about the changes they make, but this time I've got to. It's awful! This says it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CrsD45IrdbA/Tnn4B-IHw0I/AAAAAAAAAeE/yCw9adP-mME/s1600/facebooklol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CrsD45IrdbA/Tnn4B-IHw0I/AAAAAAAAAeE/yCw9adP-mME/s320/facebooklol.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654823519880987458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6337789739233691665?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6337789739233691665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6337789739233691665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6337789739233691665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6337789739233691665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/09/yo-dawg-i-heard-you-like-facebook.html' title='Yo dawg, I heard you like Facebook'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CrsD45IrdbA/Tnn4B-IHw0I/AAAAAAAAAeE/yCw9adP-mME/s72-c/facebooklol.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1713161860187734031</id><published>2011-09-14T12:41:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T12:52:11.937-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing makes me sad like people can</title><content type='html'>Nothing like politics to bring me down. What kind of society are we when we start cheering for death? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="420" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PepQF7G-It0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video is less about Ron Paul, and more about the audience. What makes me even more sad are the people on my Facebook list who agree with the crowd. Do they really think that there are tons of people out there who can afford health care no problem, yet choose not to buy it? I can't even wrap my head around it all. I've been feeling down ever since I posted it. Even Rick Perry, a man who I have little to no respect for at all, said he was taken aback by the response of the audience. Sheesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do when you start losing faith in human beings? I usually try to find feel good stories in the news, but even that isn't helping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1713161860187734031?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1713161860187734031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1713161860187734031' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1713161860187734031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1713161860187734031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/09/nothing-makes-me-sad-like-people-can.html' title='Nothing makes me sad like people can'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/PepQF7G-It0/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4379507493738608534</id><published>2011-09-08T15:58:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T17:17:27.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What's been going on.</title><content type='html'>A bit of a picture spam post. Lots of random things that make me smile. What makes you smile?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L0L--Do2xTE/TmkyFS0BuiI/AAAAAAAAAco/Qcr1nR5xcp8/s1600/meandash.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L0L--Do2xTE/TmkyFS0BuiI/AAAAAAAAAco/Qcr1nR5xcp8/s320/meandash.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650102274043787810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister in law and I a couple of weeks ago. Silly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6RYkEPGg2v0/Tmkx9wZJSXI/AAAAAAAAAcg/LSGS4oypA40/s1600/crazy%2Bhoop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block;:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 301px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6RYkEPGg2v0/Tmkx9wZJSXI/AAAAAAAAAcg/LSGS4oypA40/s320/crazy%2Bhoop.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650102144545147250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So True!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hdnnBuPGCG8/TmkxzJofxqI/AAAAAAAAAcY/zszEvDaXcWo/s1600/meandkathalloween.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hdnnBuPGCG8/TmkxzJofxqI/AAAAAAAAAcY/zszEvDaXcWo/s320/meandkathalloween.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650101962341861026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite pictures of Kat and I. She might kill me for posting this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4mGGjQcBRxc/TmkxL28SXHI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/-yPUoMjfXdY/s1600/jemweird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4mGGjQcBRxc/TmkxL28SXHI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/-yPUoMjfXdY/s320/jemweird.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650101287309696114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From an episode of Jem and the Holograms. The X on the twin towers, weird, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GYx1QFJ9z0E/Tmkw7l3vEWI/AAAAAAAAAcI/PJ-3CjwaVfM/s1600/michelebachman.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GYx1QFJ9z0E/Tmkw7l3vEWI/AAAAAAAAAcI/PJ-3CjwaVfM/s320/michelebachman.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650101007849296226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Republican, democrat, whatever. This picture of Michele Bachmann is hilarious. I guess I'm 12 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BA5guyWVr7A/TmkwuUaKHVI/AAAAAAAAAcA/mnqe_Mjeuqg/s1600/karlpilkington.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BA5guyWVr7A/TmkwuUaKHVI/AAAAAAAAAcA/mnqe_Mjeuqg/s320/karlpilkington.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650100779823537490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karl Pilkington, now in my living room. YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u7S3ThrBp3A/TmkwhvsXWZI/AAAAAAAAAb4/Wez_L9rMfiU/s1600/jimmykimmel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u7S3ThrBp3A/TmkwhvsXWZI/AAAAAAAAAb4/Wez_L9rMfiU/s320/jimmykimmel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650100563809360274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did Jimmy Kimmel do this ad for a girdle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XJdtGZQS8HM/TmkwNr5nv4I/AAAAAAAAAbw/cZ_vVKJCGpo/s1600/cupcake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XJdtGZQS8HM/TmkwNr5nv4I/AAAAAAAAAbw/cZ_vVKJCGpo/s320/cupcake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650100219193835394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carrot cake cupcakes with pistachios, AMAZING. Made by Kat, definitely not by me.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking about seeing that movie with too many famous people, about some disease going around. Contagion or something. OH, but I saw the trailer for this other movie, Another Earth, that looks fantastic. It's about just that, another Earth, that for some reason exists. The special effects, the seeing another planet just like ours in the sky, is pretty amazing. It's in limited release, maybe I can find it somewhere around here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, this post was really all over the place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4379507493738608534?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4379507493738608534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4379507493738608534' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4379507493738608534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4379507493738608534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/09/whats-been-going-on.html' title='What&apos;s been going on.'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L0L--Do2xTE/TmkyFS0BuiI/AAAAAAAAAco/Qcr1nR5xcp8/s72-c/meandash.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5078350096300536299</id><published>2011-09-01T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T08:00:12.459-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Will autumn ever come?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zqvWqnMJ8qU/Tl7sTTpvdOI/AAAAAAAAAbc/YR9Q-3x8HdA/s1600/fallrochester.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zqvWqnMJ8qU/Tl7sTTpvdOI/AAAAAAAAAbc/YR9Q-3x8HdA/s320/fallrochester.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647210799206200546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;Obviously not Houston. Rochester, NY&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know me, you know I love autumn. So many of the best things in life have happened during this time of year. Meeting Husband, my birthday, my first trip to New York City. Unfortunately, I live in the south, and it's never autumn here. It's summer, then it's something resembling winter. If I keep the AC high enough though and look out into my backyard at the dead lawn and dying trees, I can almost fool myself into thinking it's New England in late September. Ah, but that doesn't matter. Today the calender switches to September 1st, and despite the fact that we'll be in the 90's for another month (only the 90's and only another month if we're lucky), I'm making jambalaya and a pumpkin pie tonight. I've already started taking out the fall decor and already hung a rustic pumpkin wreath on my front door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminds me, my birthday is coming. Who am I kidding, I've been thinking a lot about the big 3-0 lately. I made a huge list a year ago of things I need to accomplish by the end of October. I've done a lot, but there is definitely more to do. Maybe I'll get a few done this weekend, like ride a water taxi and sleep under the stars, in my own back yard of course. I should enjoy the one benefit of this "epic drought" (not my words, the woman on CNN's words), no mosquitoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What are you plans for Labor Day weekend?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5078350096300536299?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5078350096300536299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5078350096300536299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5078350096300536299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5078350096300536299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/09/will-autumn-ever-come.html' title='Will autumn ever come?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zqvWqnMJ8qU/Tl7sTTpvdOI/AAAAAAAAAbc/YR9Q-3x8HdA/s72-c/fallrochester.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8446004085457063254</id><published>2011-08-27T08:35:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T08:46:45.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre hurricane warning to North Easterners</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wqITnWYcTH8/Tlj0hJL6_oI/AAAAAAAAAZc/9i1ZbaT6RZE/s1600/hurricane-irene-close-110826-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 288px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wqITnWYcTH8/Tlj0hJL6_oI/AAAAAAAAAZc/9i1ZbaT6RZE/s320/hurricane-irene-close-110826-02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645530983147699842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;Credit:NOAA/NASA&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may be freaking out about hurricane Irene. You may not be. It may be as bad as everyone has said it will be, it may not be. It may be necessary to shut down all public transit in NYC today, it may end up not being. I just KNOW that if this storm isn't apocalyptic-esque, people are going to whine for days about how the precautions taken were too much and they just KNEW it wasn't going to be awful. Mark my words, this will happen. In fact, I know exactly which of my friends will do this, and which will be grateful that it wasn't as bad as it could have been, which is, you know, THE SANE THING TO BE GRATEFUL FOR. Meteorology is not an exact science, and sometimes you have to take precautions. That's why they're called PRE cautions. Before. No psychics work for the Weather Channel, none that I'm aware of at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay safe people, and for the love of God, stop comparing this storm to Katrina. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8446004085457063254?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8446004085457063254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8446004085457063254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8446004085457063254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8446004085457063254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/pre-hurricane-warning-to-north.html' title='Pre hurricane warning to North Easterners'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wqITnWYcTH8/Tlj0hJL6_oI/AAAAAAAAAZc/9i1ZbaT6RZE/s72-c/hurricane-irene-close-110826-02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6139116691911654507</id><published>2011-08-27T07:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T07:50:17.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Help - the movie</title><content type='html'>This weekend we're back in Louisiana, and last night husband, my sister in law Ash and I went to see The Help. I read the book a couple of months ago, and loved it. I couldn't put it down. But the movie, while well acted and everything, just broke my heart. In case you don't know, it's about black maids in Jackson, Mississippi in 1960. A young, white writer decides to get together with several of the maids and write a book from the maids point of view, about the children they raise, the women they work for, not being able to use the bathroom in the home. At one point during the movie, I had to leave the theater and go into the bathroom and just cry my heart out. I cannot even wrap my head around the awful, awful treatment of the black community. You know, you read about it, you hear about it, and in my case at least, talked about it with family, but it isn't until you see it in live action that it hits you in the stomach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than myself, there were no black people in the theater. And we were easily the youngest people there. If I had known how upset I was going to get, I probably wouldn't have seen it. I was pretty angry for the rest of the evening, and that's no fun on a Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What movie breaks your heart? &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6139116691911654507?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6139116691911654507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6139116691911654507' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6139116691911654507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6139116691911654507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/help-movie.html' title='The Help - the movie'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7812164055149658915</id><published>2011-08-24T09:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T10:10:02.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Drought</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;If you know me at all, you know that I love autumn. Every year it seems I'm counting down the days of August until September 1st, when I deem it "ok" to start pulling out all of the autumn decorations I have. This year it's come way faster than I realized. Maybe it's because there is nothing even resembling fall in the air here in Houston. Today is the 23rd day in a row we'll reach 100+ degrees. Last year on September 1st it was 92 degrees, if we get a repeat of that I'll jump for joy. We're also in a drought. A real drought. A "212th day the Houston area had gone without more than one inch of measurable rainfall" kind of drought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my backyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hb0KAziUCdE/TlUSpGg8YBI/AAAAAAAAAZU/TxeikMsfOq0/s1600/backyard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hb0KAziUCdE/TlUSpGg8YBI/AAAAAAAAAZU/TxeikMsfOq0/s320/backyard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644438205311508498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we left for vacation, it was starting to come back to life. But this is what we came home to. And no, I can't run a sprinkler because we're under a water conservation order. Not to mention it's a total waste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is always a silver lining. No cutting the grass! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7812164055149658915?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7812164055149658915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7812164055149658915' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7812164055149658915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7812164055149658915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/drought.html' title='Drought'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hb0KAziUCdE/TlUSpGg8YBI/AAAAAAAAAZU/TxeikMsfOq0/s72-c/backyard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2160219757661076827</id><published>2011-08-21T21:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T21:04:19.977-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Not Offshore</title><content type='html'>Husband has working a lot lately. More than he is supposed to. I feel like we haven't had a real conversation since we got home from vacation. But, of course, things could always be worse. Do you read the Game of Thrones books? He does, and apparently every family has a banner with a slogan or something. He says ours should be, "It's not offshore", something we often remind one another of when he's crazy busy. We were supposed to celebrate my certification with some friends this weekend, but that wasn't in the cards, which is a real shame. Ah well. Complaining is silly when we have so much to be grateful for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's something that makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT5r5KEiytU/TlG3hPL7pvI/AAAAAAAAAYo/nFsj93BZVdI/s1600/3594618099_53ce04ca9e_z.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT5r5KEiytU/TlG3hPL7pvI/AAAAAAAAAYo/nFsj93BZVdI/s320/3594618099_53ce04ca9e_z.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643493589712086770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;This is one of the first things I embroidered a few years ago. I know embroidery sounds like it's for old people, but it's such a fun craft. I get a lot of my patterns from Sublime Stitching, tons of funky things like skeletons and martini glasses and jelly fish. I'd like to learn knitting or crocheting or something, but it doesn't sound like it's one of those instant gratification crafts, which is what I'm into. What can I say, I have little patience.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did you do this weekend? See any new movies, do anything fun? Talk to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2160219757661076827?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2160219757661076827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2160219757661076827' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2160219757661076827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2160219757661076827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/its-not-offshore.html' title='It&apos;s Not Offshore'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JT5r5KEiytU/TlG3hPL7pvI/AAAAAAAAAYo/nFsj93BZVdI/s72-c/3594618099_53ce04ca9e_z.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4972659723184830521</id><published>2011-08-18T20:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T21:07:42.101-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hooping'/><title type='text'>Hoopnotica!</title><content type='html'>So I'm a certified Level 1 &amp;amp; 2 Hoopnotica hoop dance instructor! I got word on Wednesday and I'm just over the moon. Now to find a place to start teaching. I've got lots of great ideas and I really cannot wait to spread the physical and mental benefits that I've gotten from hoop dance. It's honestly one of my favorite things in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture totally off topic, of myself and my sister para sailing off the coast of Alabama. We had a blast, from laughing at the people on our boat, to nearly getting dipped into a ton of (non poisonous) jelly fish, to wondering just how much tail the guys running the service get on a weekly basis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--CNMegOjgDg/Tk3CSrjDTwI/AAAAAAAAAXI/OzjDUyioU2g/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--CNMegOjgDg/Tk3CSrjDTwI/AAAAAAAAAXI/OzjDUyioU2g/s320/DSC_0008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642379534348275458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4972659723184830521?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4972659723184830521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4972659723184830521' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4972659723184830521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4972659723184830521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/hoopnotica.html' title='Hoopnotica!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--CNMegOjgDg/Tk3CSrjDTwI/AAAAAAAAAXI/OzjDUyioU2g/s72-c/DSC_0008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2593183239113049708</id><published>2011-08-16T15:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T15:19:32.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TOMS vs. Bobs</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/h0Aa0Is4FTM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, maybe you have or haven't heard of TOMS shoes. They are these pretty ugly (yet crazy comfortable shoes) shoes and when you buy a pair, the company sends a pair to a needy child somewhere in the world. Noble cause. I made fun of the shoes (though not their charitable act of course) until I tried on a pair of my sister in laws and they were amazing. While on vacation my sister and I came across Bobs shoes. Nearly the exact same shoe, same price, same concept, they also donate a pair for each pair purchased. After making the purchase (seriously, ugly as sin, but way more comfortable than flip flops), I went online to do some research and found tons of young people complaining that Bobs is a rip off, blah blah blah. Are they? Of course! The shoes are TOTALLY similar. But who cares really? So a company decides to be like another company and give shoes away. Is that something to be pissed off about? I can't take you seriously if you claim to be into charity, yet are SO into labels that you'd criticize charity. And for the record, Airwalks has the Hope shoes, where they do the &lt;i&gt;same&lt;/i&gt; thing as TOMS and Bobs, yet they're half the price, allowing the consumer to send 2 pairs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish more companies would steal this business model. What a better world we'd live in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2593183239113049708?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2593183239113049708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2593183239113049708' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2593183239113049708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2593183239113049708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/toms-vs-bobs.html' title='TOMS vs. Bobs'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/h0Aa0Is4FTM/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5150013153860678620</id><published>2011-08-16T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T13:01:18.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home bittersweet Home</title><content type='html'>Home from vacation. Isn't that the worst? Vacations are supposed to be a time to relax and then go home, ready to get back to life with a new outlook, but all I really want to do is go back to the beach and not watch the news and have a "to do" list that includes parasailing, laying out, hooping on the beach, eating amazing seafood, and souvenir shopping. But, all good must end of course. We had such a great time, the best part being spending time with family. The older I get, the more I see myself in my mom and my sister, and that makes me happier than I can express. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2BQOVYsSCaY/Tkp_-SbevdI/AAAAAAAAAWI/FopTV0eSxsI/s1600/hoopcrop.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 304px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2BQOVYsSCaY/Tkp_-SbevdI/AAAAAAAAAWI/FopTV0eSxsI/s320/hoopcrop.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641462191310683602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the song Doing The Butt? This picture makes me think of that song. LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More pictures to come later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5150013153860678620?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5150013153860678620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5150013153860678620' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5150013153860678620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5150013153860678620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/home-bittersweet-home.html' title='Home bittersweet Home'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2BQOVYsSCaY/Tkp_-SbevdI/AAAAAAAAAWI/FopTV0eSxsI/s72-c/hoopcrop.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-787943153549143284</id><published>2011-08-02T15:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T15:28:00.492-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling restless...</title><content type='html'>I've been so out of the loop lately. Lots of hooping, lots of hanging out with one of my best friends who recently moved really close to me in Houston, lots of getting ready for our vacation to the beach. This summer has been insanely hot, and while running through the sprinkler a few times a week started off fun, I need the ocean. I'm tired of hearing about the debt ceiling, tired of having no rain, tired of Big Brother season 2354545. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some new music desperately! I've asked before haven't I? I'm into everything EXCEPT gangsta rap (LOVE old rap and old hip hop), new country, or anything resembling metal. Love Modest Mouse, Hall and Oats, Tricky, David Bowie, Mary J. Blidge. Help!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-787943153549143284?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/787943153549143284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=787943153549143284' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/787943153549143284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/787943153549143284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/08/feeling-restless.html' title='Feeling restless...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3655381676020636960</id><published>2011-07-21T08:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T08:54:28.883-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rick "Good Hair" Perry. America, you don't want him!</title><content type='html'>As you know, I live in Texas. My governor is Rick "Good Hair" (as he's referred to by so many) Perry. He's an absolute tool. No, not just because we are from different political parties, but because he totally is. His hate for education is mind boggling, as well as his stance that it shouldn't be illegal for people to text while driving. But more than that is his constant need to combine religion and government. On August 6th he's holding a "prayer rally" here in town to pray for the US economy, among other things. HUH? Anyone who has even the briefest knowledge of Christianity or the bible is aware that Jesus wasn't a fan of empires, or wealth. I realize that a functioning economy is important in all of our lives, but praying for an empire (because like it or not, that's what the US, and many other countries, are) leaves an awful taste in my mouth. NOW Perry is saying that he's feeling the call from God to run for president. REALLY? Am I honestly supposed to believe that? The constant combo of God and politics makes my blood boil more than anything else. I'm a Christian, but I'm not perfect and don't have all of the answers. But I refuse to trust a soul who ties Jesus to America or government or political parties. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at this photo of Perry with some guys from the band The Sickest Kids. He looks like a goober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UHrBoTHkXZo/TigvHQqO5kI/AAAAAAAAATk/KvcU19AWwLI/s1600/FTSK%2BRick%2BPerry-thumb-500x372.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UHrBoTHkXZo/TigvHQqO5kI/AAAAAAAAATk/KvcU19AWwLI/s320/FTSK%2BRick%2BPerry-thumb-500x372.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631803135804499522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3655381676020636960?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3655381676020636960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3655381676020636960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3655381676020636960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3655381676020636960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/rick-good-hair-perry-america-you-dont.html' title='Rick &quot;Good Hair&quot; Perry. America, you don&apos;t want him!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UHrBoTHkXZo/TigvHQqO5kI/AAAAAAAAATk/KvcU19AWwLI/s72-c/FTSK%2BRick%2BPerry-thumb-500x372.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2919132939248995208</id><published>2011-07-19T16:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T17:23:24.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>JEM! Truly, truly, truly outrageous!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WMeIb2i-Hp4/TiX4jt_oJzI/AAAAAAAAATc/kIropKJywUA/s1600/jem%2Band%2Bthe%2Bholograms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WMeIb2i-Hp4/TiX4jt_oJzI/AAAAAAAAATc/kIropKJywUA/s320/jem%2Band%2Bthe%2Bholograms.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631180201622251314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I remember for my 5th birthday getting a JEM doll. I LOVED JEM and just thought she was the coolest. The pink hair with the blonde underneath? Alter egos and an amazing computer? So awesome. I can't really remember watching the cartoon much, so last night husband, sister in law, and I caught an episode on some cartoon station. WHAT? This show is serious! Homeless kids, sabotage, tabloid reporters, gangsters, robbery, blackmail. Is this what we were watching as kids? I definitely set more episodes to record, it's more intense than all these teen dramas on tv today. Except Degrassi of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did you love watching as a kid? Do you remember JEM?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2919132939248995208?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2919132939248995208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2919132939248995208' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2919132939248995208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2919132939248995208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/jem-truly-truly-truly-outrageous.html' title='JEM! Truly, truly, truly outrageous!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WMeIb2i-Hp4/TiX4jt_oJzI/AAAAAAAAATc/kIropKJywUA/s72-c/jem%2Band%2Bthe%2Bholograms.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3886917365270638856</id><published>2011-07-18T19:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T19:58:45.941-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Odds and Ends...</title><content type='html'>I feel like I've been away from here for too long, I apologize for that! Things have been super busy lately. My sister in law is in town from Louisiana, and I'm already dreading her leaving tomorrow. When I still lived near her, we spent tons of time together, doing a whole lot of nothing like watching the same Golden Girls episodes over and over and over again. And it was great. But, I've still got vacation to look forward to, and can't wait to spend time with my family. My sister from NY and I have big plans to parasail this year. I wonder if I'm going to chicken out? Hopefully she won't let me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you using Google Plus? I'm so digging it. Much more than Facebook. I love being able to make different circles so easily. I've got a huge hooping one which makes interaction with hoopers around the country so much easier than some of the other forums out there. If you'd like an invite, let me know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Debt ceiling is about to be hit. I've distracted myself with Casey Anthony drama so that I don't have to think about it too much. What's going to happen? And why do people want to balance the budget on the backs of the elderly and the poor? It's truly distressing that more people are concerned with the new Netflix prices and not this awful situation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw Horrible Bosses last week. Good movie, very funny. Jason Sudeikis never fails to make me laugh, and swoon just a little bit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have you been up to?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3886917365270638856?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3886917365270638856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3886917365270638856' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3886917365270638856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3886917365270638856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/odds-and-ends.html' title='Odds and Ends...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8995565793469779051</id><published>2011-07-11T16:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T16:50:28.335-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurry up beach!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4099/4885466030_6f2a9e0770_z.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming up soon is our annual beach vacation and I cannot wait. CANNOT WAIT. Every summer we all go to Gulf Shores/Orange Beach, Alabama, husband and I, my parents, and my sister, bro in law, and nieces and nephew. Husband wasn't able to come last summer which put a bit of a damper on it, but this year we'll all be there. I love this beach so much. Going there is like going to a second home. We know all of the restaurants and stores and little great places in the area. Every day husband and I have been playing the "what do you want to do first when we get there" game. Yes, we're like children waiting for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What's YOUR favorite thing about going to the beach?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8995565793469779051?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8995565793469779051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8995565793469779051' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8995565793469779051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8995565793469779051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/hurry-up-beach.html' title='Hurry up beach!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4099/4885466030_6f2a9e0770_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4726982641990057222</id><published>2011-07-08T09:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T09:16:09.711-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guest Blogging!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERKo2BTlLXc/ThcQsmMV6xI/AAAAAAAAASc/rtuMHAkgDic/s1600/happyhomefinal1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 121px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERKo2BTlLXc/ThcQsmMV6xI/AAAAAAAAASc/rtuMHAkgDic/s320/happyhomefinal1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626984617775328018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm guest blogging on the new site, Happy Home Front! The site is geared towards "geographically challenged" families, including those in the military, as well as oil, airline, fishing industries and more. My blog today is on what's like to deal with people who don't get what's it's like to have a spouse home so infrequently. Also, for every person who joins the site between now and July 15th, they will donate money to the Deepwater Horizon Memorial Fund, which helps the 11 families of the men who died in the Deepwater Horizon rig explosion in the gulf of Mexico in April of 2010. The site is just getting going, but already has lots of resources and great information, go check it out and pass it on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://happyhomefront.net/profiles/blogs/no-one-understands-what-it"&gt;My Blog on Happy Home Front! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4726982641990057222?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4726982641990057222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4726982641990057222' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4726982641990057222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4726982641990057222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/guest-blogging.html' title='Guest Blogging!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERKo2BTlLXc/ThcQsmMV6xI/AAAAAAAAASc/rtuMHAkgDic/s72-c/happyhomefinal1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2252051700179116920</id><published>2011-07-05T17:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T17:25:14.077-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everybody breathe...</title><content type='html'>The Casey Anthony case has been in the forefront of the news for the last 3 years. Today the verdict came down, and it was not guilty. I'm not surprised at all. I watched much of the trial, and while I, personally, do think she had something to do with the death of her child, I would have NOT been able to say she is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Certainly not with the death penalty on the table, but I would have never been selected for the jury anyway because I don't believe in the death penalty. There was no DNA, no fingerprints, no cause of death, no murder scene. I waited the whole time to hear the prosecution drop a smoking gun on the jury. It never came. I am shocked by the lack of basic understanding of the court system I see from so many people. This verdict doesn't mean she didn't do it, it means they couldn't prove it. A smell, waiting to report the child missing, are definitely shady aspects of the case, but are NOT proof. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many high profile cases come out with the same verdict, not guilty. OJ Simpson, Michael Jackson to name a couple. Nancy Grace has made a name for her self based on this case.   Is the media to blame?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2252051700179116920?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2252051700179116920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2252051700179116920' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2252051700179116920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2252051700179116920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/everybody-breathe.html' title='Everybody breathe...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6978621933564345591</id><published>2011-07-04T20:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T20:53:50.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>America, you say it's your birthday...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0erQu0bmJJk/ThJuVVcoKgI/AAAAAAAAASU/IqEPvd3v75M/s1600/Irony%2B28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0erQu0bmJJk/ThJuVVcoKgI/AAAAAAAAASU/IqEPvd3v75M/s320/Irony%2B28.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625680197352696322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*America, today is your birthday, but you're still an adolescent in the world. You think you have all the answers, even when older countries try to explain to you why you don't. You often stand up to the bullies, but you like to start fights too. You're behavior is really childish sometimes, but you're a good kid, you've just gotta grow up a bit. Listen to your elders, learn from their mistakes. You're privileged, but that doesn't always last forever. Just ask Rome. Happy Birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;*A repost from last 7-4-10&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6978621933564345591?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6978621933564345591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6978621933564345591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6978621933564345591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6978621933564345591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/07/america-you-say-its-your-birthday.html' title='America, you say it&apos;s your birthday...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0erQu0bmJJk/ThJuVVcoKgI/AAAAAAAAASU/IqEPvd3v75M/s72-c/Irony%2B28.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-863762845771147731</id><published>2011-07-01T07:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T07:52:18.379-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Salivating</title><content type='html'>Is it just me, or is there something a little strange about the excitement over the Casey Anthony trial? I haven't seen it so much from other people, but definitely from the media, like Nancy Grace and Jane Valez Mitchell. We all know Nancy Grace is crazy, but Jane Valez Mitchell looks likes she's going to burst with excitement every time she talks about it. So yesterday was the last day of the defense's case, and of course Casey Anthony didn't testify. Anyone who thought she would is delusional. JVL just couldn't get this through her head though and looked like she was going to burst out of her skin. Lady. It's a murder trial. I get that it's your job to report it, but do you have to be so happy about it? A little girl is dead. Her mom is the accused killer. There is NOTHING good about any of this. I really hate 24 hour news sometimes, because it's nothing but hours and hours of time they have to fill up with the same words over and over and over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you been following the trial? What are your thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-863762845771147731?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/863762845771147731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=863762845771147731' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/863762845771147731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/863762845771147731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/salivating.html' title='Salivating'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8434952509264007931</id><published>2011-06-27T11:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T12:03:05.739-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding</title><content type='html'>Have you seen the show My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding? I'm not usually a fan of reality shows, but TLC always reels me in (Sister Wives anyone?). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKgghcONRZM/Tgi2ruHMUmI/AAAAAAAAASM/AMmfzhT8018/s1600/gypsy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKgghcONRZM/Tgi2ruHMUmI/AAAAAAAAASM/AMmfzhT8018/s320/gypsy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622944997000893026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;A typical traveler wedding party&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who are these people? They call themselves "travelers". They typically live in England, and do just what their name implies, travel. They live in RV's, often illegally on land they do not own. The children marry incredibly young, around 15 or 16, and often have very little schooling. The jobs they hold tend to be either dog breeding, collecting scrap metal, or doing handy work. They refuse to talk about money ever, though it's obvious from the show they spend a great deal on the weddings. The episode I watched last night was about an 18 year old girl. She can't really read and write, and didn't think those were important skills to have. The only aspiration the girls have is to marry, which I suppose is the reason they all dress like prostitutes, to attract a husband. If it were just the 16 year old girls, I might not be as completely creeped out as I am, seeing girls as young as NINE wearing things like garter belts and corsets!! They say this is just part of their culture. The other part of their "tradition" is a practice called "grabbing", where a teen boy goes after a teen girl to get a kiss. They literally GRAB the girl and DRAG her out of the view of the cameras and do God knows what. It's nothing short of sexual assault. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to judge these people, but it's incredibly hard not to. They talked to them about what it's like to be so hated and they equated it to racism. Is it though? At one point does the phrase "this is just our culture" stop excusing this behavior? When the sexual assault and purposely not learning how to read starts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8434952509264007931?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8434952509264007931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8434952509264007931' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8434952509264007931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8434952509264007931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/my-big-fat-gypsy-wedding.html' title='My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKgghcONRZM/Tgi2ruHMUmI/AAAAAAAAASM/AMmfzhT8018/s72-c/gypsy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-861276779189493387</id><published>2011-06-27T11:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T11:23:52.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Help</title><content type='html'>Have you heard of the book, The Help? It's set in early 1960's Jackson, Mississippi, about black maids and the white families they work for. It's a really great book, funny, heart warming, thought provoking,  and also it just might make your blood boil. And for those of you shaking your heads, it's absolutely not your typical "white woman saves the black women" story. Quite the contrary. I have to admit though, I was shocked as to how little I "got" about it. I'm from Louisiana, and my mom (who is Creole, which is black and French) was in high school in the 60's. She has 4 sisters and a brother. They went to Catholic school. They went on vacations to the beach. Her life just seems incredibly different than that of the maids in the book. I felt like I should understand the plight of these women more, but I couldn't. Perhaps things were different in my hometown? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we all know this stuff happened and we know about Jim Crowe laws, seeing it in written word just made my blood boil. I guess that's why I typically stay away from stuff like this. And that it was all so recent, I could just scream, "See! This is why black people are still pissed!!" At least I am.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A movie based on the book comes out in August, the trailer is below. I'm not a huge fan of Emma Stone, but that may change after this film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/J_ajv_6pUnI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-861276779189493387?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/861276779189493387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=861276779189493387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/861276779189493387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/861276779189493387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/help.html' title='The Help'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/J_ajv_6pUnI/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3904197638355339084</id><published>2011-06-24T11:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T11:39:50.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading, hooping, baking and music</title><content type='html'>Ah, Friday. This is the first weekend in a while we haven't had family in town or other plans or obligations. Don't get me wrong, I adore my family, but sometimes you just need a weekend to do nothing. I intend to do lots of hooping, practicing the piano, running in the sprinkler, baking, reading (on my new Kindle, thanks Husband!) and listening to music. Maybe a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard of the band Arcade Fire? They won the "Best New Artist" Grammy this year for their album &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Suburbs&lt;/span&gt;. The album is actually based on two brothers in the band's experience growing up in a suburb of Houston called The Woodlands, which is right near where I live. Initially I wasn't that into it, it's what one would call "whiny boy music". But now, I just love it! I guess that often happens with music based on where you are. Like those songs that aren't that great until you see them paired with some amazing scene in a movie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the title song from the album. I can't get enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XAitZuh4ueg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"And all of the houses they built in the seventies finally fall...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3904197638355339084?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3904197638355339084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3904197638355339084' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3904197638355339084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3904197638355339084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/reading-hooping-baking-and-music.html' title='Reading, hooping, baking and music'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/XAitZuh4ueg/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3162807715186654550</id><published>2011-06-22T18:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T18:05:02.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A lifetime ago</title><content type='html'>I recently read The Carrie Diaries and Summer and the City, two newish books by Candace Bushnell, the woman who created Sex and the City. The books are centered around Carrie Bradshaw, as a 17 year old. I enjoyed the books, but with a pang of sadness. I remember being 17 and going to New York City. I thought I was going to take over the world. Walking around the upper west side with a bottle of Perrier, taking the subway on a Saturday night to a "hole in the wall" bar in Queens, eating hot dogs at Grey's Papaya, like I really belonged. Sometimes I can't believe I ever came home. I remember getting back to my parents house after that world wind trip and everything felt completely different. The house, the furniture, and most of all myself. I can't believe that was nearly 12 years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I still that crazy girl? No way. Something in me changed over the years and I'm constantly cautious. With that comes some good, but some bad too. They say you are at 8 who are you at 80, but the older I get, the less likely that seems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3162807715186654550?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3162807715186654550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3162807715186654550' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3162807715186654550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3162807715186654550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/lifetime-ago.html' title='A lifetime ago'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6229347663211827779</id><published>2011-06-16T13:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-16T13:57:50.202-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Haynes Management, you're doing it WRONG</title><content type='html'>So I just read a story about Carl Sorabella, a guy who has worked for Haynes Management, a company in Massachusetts, for nearly 14 years. His wife has stage 4 cancer, so he asked his employer if he could change around his work schedule, so that he could work around his wife's medical treatments. He didn't ask for free money or anything, JUST to change his schedule around. What did they tell him? Nope. "It's business. I'm running a company here, and I need to make sure the department runs," she, Mary Butler, the VP told him. He offered to work nights, weekends, whatever, just so that he could take his wife to chemo appointments. Nope. They later told him he was going to be laid off anyway, you know, due to "modifications in workforce requirements." Even though he got a raise in November. The guy later saw an ad in the paper for his job. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS, this right here, is why I try to tell people, don't trust businesses to look out for you! They don't care about you! They only care about making money, NEVER expect more than that. Ah, but it's 2011. And there are ways of ruining these people. Do a search for "Hayne's Management", and check out all the one star ratings, angry blogs, and Facebook hate groups. Am I advocating this? I don't know. I don't want to see other people lose their jobs. But come on, you can't treat people like crap and expect to get away with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the whole story, tell me what you think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://jobs.aol.com/articles/2011/06/16/wife-gets-cancer-husband-gets-fired/?icid=maing-grid7|main5|dl5|sec1_lnk2|71003&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6229347663211827779?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6229347663211827779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6229347663211827779' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6229347663211827779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6229347663211827779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/haynes-management-youre-doing-it-wrong.html' title='Haynes Management, you&apos;re doing it WRONG'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6155509149404082863</id><published>2011-06-14T08:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T08:28:17.875-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do I even still belong?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I forget that I'm an oilfield wife, until I read forums full of other ladies in the same position. When we moved to Houston last year, it was a huge change, both in where we lived and how we lived. It's been over a year since Husband has been out to a rig. It's funny how quickly you can stop being used to that routine. But now, I feel like I identify even less with the oilfield wives I come across online. They mention terms and acronyms that I don't understand at all. They talk about being able to drive to rig sites (something I never did, as husband never worked on land). Even job titles that I don't get. I'm no expert, Husband has only been in the industry 5 years, and before that, I knew nothing. I'm not one of those girls whose dad, grand dad, and great grand dad worked with oil. Add in that I'm not a republican, and ladies think I'm a traitor. Luckily, during this journey, I have come across other "unlikely oilfield wives" who I know I can turn to. I just hate feeling like I belong even less than before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6155509149404082863?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6155509149404082863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6155509149404082863' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6155509149404082863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6155509149404082863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/do-i-even-still-belong.html' title='Do I even still belong?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1038561432337494693</id><published>2011-06-07T07:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T09:43:32.374-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Weiner go!</title><content type='html'>So congressmen Weiner admitted it was his "business" in the photo on twitter. And the media is OUTRAGED. They are so excited about this, and all I can do is laugh. The guy posted a clothed picture of his wang on the internet, to another adult! Let's be honest, Anthony Weiner was probably a big nerd growing up. I've seen THOSE pictures, and let me tell you, scarier than anything else that has come up recently. So now, he's this rock star in the political world, and some cute girls online think he's the best. I suspect this is a new feeling for the guy. But some of the things I've seen written, that he is a disturbed human being, he cannot be trusted to do his job, blah blah blah, are nuts! Ladies, ladies, ladies who are shocked about this, you're living in a dream world. Men take pictures of their private business. So do women. It happens so much more than you want to believe. Also, people lie. All day, every day, every single person on this planet. When you hold politicians to a standard of not being horny or not lying, you're the one lying. To yourself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weiner is not Arnold Schwarzenegger, John Edwards, Larry Craig, or even Bill Clinton. And those guys aren't Strauss-Kahn. So quit putting people into a category to which they don't belong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1038561432337494693?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1038561432337494693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1038561432337494693' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1038561432337494693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1038561432337494693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/let-weiner-go.html' title='Let the Weiner go!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-25711529740640443</id><published>2011-06-06T20:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:16:17.539-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><title type='text'>True Facts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sophiathewriter.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sophia&lt;/a&gt; tagged me, and typically I don't do stuff like this, but let's be honest, I liked the attention lol. You want to do it too? I'm tagging you now! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you think you're hot?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell yes. It's Houston in June. It was 105 yesterday. Oh, wait, you meant looks wise? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Upload a picture or wallpaper that you're using at the moment.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of months ago, husband I got obsessed with the Ricky Gervais show, and by association, Karl Pilkington.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2003/5806770044_e44c083b10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2003/5806770044_e44c083b10.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When was the last time you ate chicken meat?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday we went to a new pizza place downtown, Bombay Pizza Company. Pizza with tandoori chicken, crab meat, cilantro mint chutney, artichokes, mozzarella and provolone. Other side was strawberries, gouda, pine nuts, balsamic vinegar, tomatoes, and basil. AMAZING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2092/5806222025_0e5a6e04c8_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 640px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2092/5806222025_0e5a6e04c8_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The song(s) you listened to recently.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex certainly didn't give me much happiness, but he definitely had great taste in music. It was through him that I found my love for Erasure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tnp436Z6Ib8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite introducing me to great music, he was still a tool. He dumped me on 9/11/01. After the planes hit. He later tells me that he thought this was a good idea, so that I wouldn't be so sad about the terrorist attacks. WTF? I wonder if he reads this blog. Hey there! Water under the bridge lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What were you thinking as you were doing this?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to remember if I've publicly judged people for doing these, despite how much I love reading them. Nope, I think I'm good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you have nicknames? What are they?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depends on who you ask. One of my oldest friends has an affinity for calling me Tina Spice, a combo of Tina Turner and Scary Spice. Yes, my hair was bigger in high school than it is now. Husband calls me dear or kitten. My mom used to call me Deedee as a kid. Old roller derby name was Lulu. For a while after I got married I wanted to go by my middle name, Mia. Now? I guess I'm just Heather. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will blog about my weekend in a bit. Gotta go catch up with this hockey game comprised of teams I don't give a damn about the rest of the season. Why oh why do I always get wrapped up in the Stanley Cup finals?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-25711529740640443?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/25711529740640443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=25711529740640443' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/25711529740640443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/25711529740640443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/06/true-facts.html' title='True Facts'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2003/5806770044_e44c083b10_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1404173001471063199</id><published>2011-05-31T19:37:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:16:45.793-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><title type='text'>Women having sex like men?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7nWJt03e_b4/TeWOa-K_qtI/AAAAAAAAARw/2GYNrkcWn-Q/s1600/male_female.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7nWJt03e_b4/TeWOa-K_qtI/AAAAAAAAARw/2GYNrkcWn-Q/s320/male_female.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613049104604048082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Often I read articles by women saying that things between the sexes really started getting on an even keel when women decided to have sex the way men do. To generalize, men have sex without feelings, purely for pleasure. Many don't discriminate, and will say or do whatever to get whatever girl they want. I'm sorry, but what? Why is this something women would try to aspire to? There seems to still be this mentally that if men are doing it, it must be right, so women should do it too. Why is this so, even in 2011? Men and women are not the same. We don't think the same and we don't act the same, and that's ok. I have to believe there is another way to rise up in the workforce, etc, without acting like men. That's not being true to oneself, right? And what's more important, faking your way up a ladder or finding a way up in an honest way? Maybe I'm being unrealistic. I'm not in the corporate world. But it just makes me a little sad when I see a woman stand up and say, "I have sex the way men do". Not a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1404173001471063199?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1404173001471063199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1404173001471063199' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1404173001471063199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1404173001471063199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/women-having-sex-like-men.html' title='Women having sex like men?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7nWJt03e_b4/TeWOa-K_qtI/AAAAAAAAARw/2GYNrkcWn-Q/s72-c/male_female.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4292662427645611357</id><published>2011-05-26T08:08:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:17:50.913-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Teaching, it's not about the Benjamins baby</title><content type='html'>So I'm catching up on Oprah's final episodes (I think if I don't watch them, my sister and mother will disown me), and even though I'm not an obsessed viewer of the show as they are, I can't help but feel moved. In one segment, they spoke about a school in New Orleans that lost everything in hurricane Katrina, then they lost the school library after a tornado two years later. Target teamed up with the show and totally revamped the library with books and computers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's not why I felt moved. It was the teachers. I saw these young people in the schools, with limited resources, doing whatever they can to get these kids what they need to make it in the future. One guy spent $5000 of his own salary to get books for his students. My sister and her husband are teachers, as well as one of my best friends, and I see the work these people put into their job. Late hours spent grading papers, weekends at school events. These people don't get off at 3:00pm. Yet earlier this year, I heard, and I'm sure you did too, so much hate for educators. That they're getting rich off of the state, that they're selfish. Education, the most important thing a person can have, is treated by so many as a burden on the system. Until this attitude changes, we cannot grow as a country. Teachers can only do so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about that teacher who inspired you, who gave you a push, who helped you when you thought no one could. Write them an email or a facebook message, and say thank you. Believe me, they didn't pick their job for the money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4292662427645611357?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4292662427645611357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4292662427645611357' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4292662427645611357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4292662427645611357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/teaching-its-not-about-benjamins-baby.html' title='Teaching, it&apos;s not about the Benjamins baby'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5990976996437877362</id><published>2011-05-25T20:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:18:02.445-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><title type='text'>My favorite kind Saturdays</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QV0pZK_JGmQ/Td2zCkwOb1I/AAAAAAAAARo/VnZNOT7eD5w/s1600/photo-721674.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QV0pZK_JGmQ/Td2zCkwOb1I/AAAAAAAAARo/VnZNOT7eD5w/s320/photo-721674.JPG"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610837567580565330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Hoops, grass, and a blanket...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5990976996437877362?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5990976996437877362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5990976996437877362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5990976996437877362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5990976996437877362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/my-favorite-kind-saturdays.html' title='My favorite kind Saturdays'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QV0pZK_JGmQ/Td2zCkwOb1I/AAAAAAAAARo/VnZNOT7eD5w/s72-c/photo-721674.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7130201927028049306</id><published>2011-05-25T18:44:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T06:24:28.898-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>S T Y L E</title><content type='html'>Remember Style with Elsa Klensch? It was a half hour long show on Saturday mornings on CNN. It ran from 1980 to 2001. Sure, I watched cartoons on Saturdays just like every other kid, but I can remember always watching this show too with my mom and my sister. It was about what was going on in the fashion world, and included interviews with designers and models. It's funny the things that you remember out of no where. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had a dream about a girl I haven't seen since probably 1993. I haven't even thought about her in at least 10 years. Usually when I have strange dreams about long lost people or things, I can figure out why. But not this time. So odd.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7130201927028049306?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7130201927028049306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7130201927028049306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7130201927028049306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7130201927028049306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/remember-style-with-elsa-klensch-it-was.html' title='S T Y L E'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1880469841141668892</id><published>2011-05-25T15:03:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:18:37.203-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurricane'/><title type='text'>So much for looking forward to Spring</title><content type='html'>For the last couple of days I've been watching the news every chance I get, watching the awful tornadoes that have hit in Missouri and Oklahoma. Growing up in southern Louisiana, I've been through my fair share of hurricanes, but tornadoes? I couldn't handle that. It's the whole "very little warning" aspect that makes me so frightened. With a hurricane, we have a pretty good idea if there is a chance of something making it's way to us. We've got days to gas up our cars, buy food and water and batteries, cover the windows with wood. But the tornado in Joplin, MO happened so quickly, people weren't even able to think before it hit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1500 people still missing. I'm just speechless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1880469841141668892?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1880469841141668892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1880469841141668892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1880469841141668892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1880469841141668892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/so-much-for-looking-forward-to-spring.html' title='So much for looking forward to Spring'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5750277374509382345</id><published>2011-05-24T11:43:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:19:08.916-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weekends'/><title type='text'>Friends moving to town, beer, and Tales From the Darkside</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tG-4nreOY-I/TdvkbdOog0I/AAAAAAAAARg/lOXZ2CqEodc/s1600/flyingsaucer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tG-4nreOY-I/TdvkbdOog0I/AAAAAAAAARg/lOXZ2CqEodc/s320/flyingsaucer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610328921173689154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;A Black Velvet, Guinness on top, apple cider on the bottom. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last week I found out that two of my really good friends, Kat and Dustin, are moving here to Houston from Lafayette! I'm so excited to show them around and learn some new places myself. I know when we moved last year, having Liz already established here made me feel so much better about the move. On Saturday we went to Flying Saucer, this neat restaurant downtown that serves hundreds of different kinds of beers. I'm not a huge beer person, unless I'm at this place. The one pictured above was absolutely amazing, hoping I can convince Husband that he wants to go back this weekend when my folks are in town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than all that, things have been quiet. It's hot, no rain. Went to a new bar with Liz and Blake last weekend, really enjoyed it, especially the acoustic versions of rap songs the live music provided. I started coming down with a cold this Sunday, but seemed to have fought it off with the help of tea, Zicam, and rest. Saw Bridesmaids, loved it. Kristin Wiig is fantastic, but Melissa McCarthy stole the show. Learned how to play the Tales from the Darkside theme song on the piano. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I need some new music. I think that's why I'm in a bit of a funk, listening to the same stuff over and over again. What are you listening to right now?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5750277374509382345?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5750277374509382345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5750277374509382345' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5750277374509382345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5750277374509382345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/friends-moving-to-town-beer-and-tales.html' title='Friends moving to town, beer, and Tales From the Darkside'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tG-4nreOY-I/TdvkbdOog0I/AAAAAAAAARg/lOXZ2CqEodc/s72-c/flyingsaucer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-992691783129844094</id><published>2011-05-23T07:47:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:19:18.641-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Rapture, part 2, and a new church</title><content type='html'>So obviously, it didn't happen. All you had to do is take one look at Harold Camping's math and you'd know that this guy was coming out of left field with all of this. But hey, that's his gig, and if people want to trust him, that's their business. What makes me sad though is all the anti Christian stuff I've read leading up to all of this. The people who honestly believed that Saturday was their last day on Earth are just as short sighted as the people who assumed every Christian believed this guy, or every Christian is like Pat Robertson or John Hagee. Guess what? We're not. Do I believe everything the church teaches? I have to say no. The bible was written by man, and we know how off man can be about things. But I have the things I do believe, and a lot of it I cannot explain. And that's ok. I can't explain why people love Lady Gaga, and I can't explain why sometimes I get obsessed with toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But do people need to be so angry and what people believe? What's the point of that? What purpose does it serve? You cannot control it, so why put the time into being angry about it? It's like this comment I read the other day on an article about illegal immigration, someone said, "They need to quit wanting to come over here". What? You can't control what people want, why bother trying? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I take my faith more seriously than I thought, judging how I got my feelings hurt by some of things said by friends online. That's why on Suday Husband and I went to a new church. We were both raised Catholic, and while there is so much about the church I still love and adore, their continuous disrespect for my intelligence is more than I can handle. It's not just the pedophile priests or their refusal to allow women to preach God's word, it's their refusal to handle the first situation properly, and being a woman, it's just too sad to know that women who have been ordained have been excommunicated. The church we went to was very nice, very liberal, with a pretty small congregation. We just wanted to sit in the back and observe, but as soon as we walked in people were kind of fawning over us. It was cute, albeit strange, coming from the somber, "this place is massive and I'm so small" feeling you get at a Catholic church. Everyone was smiling, which was different too. The offering went to HATCH (&lt;a href="http://www.hatchyouth.org/"&gt;http://www.hatchyouth.org&lt;/a&gt;), an organization that helps GLBTQ teens in Houston. Seeing THAT in the bulletin of a Christian church was truly fantastic. Overall, the service was nice, and I'd like to go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But honestly? I wish the Catholic church would take some responsibility for the actions of several of its priests, and realize that it's 2011. This is the faith I grew up with, got married in. But I'm sure many people have died waiting for change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-992691783129844094?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/992691783129844094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=992691783129844094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/992691783129844094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/992691783129844094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/rapture-part-2-and-new-church.html' title='Rapture, part 2, and a new church'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4600627835490599676</id><published>2011-05-17T10:01:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:19:26.764-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Oh yeah, the Rapture is Saturday!</title><content type='html'>Look, I don't like to talk smack about other people's faith and religions. I'm Christian, so I know a lot of the things I believe are a bit out there. But I can't NOT talk about "the rapture". You know, that thing when Jesus comes back to Earth and there's judgment day and all that. Perhaps you've seen the billboards. This guy, Harold Camping of Family Radio, is the one who has predicted this, based on some elaborate mathematics. It's not the first time, he predicted it in 1994, but was obviously wrong. It shocks me that someone would paint themselves into such a tight corner as predicting the exact date and time (May 21st, 6pm in your time zone!) that the end of the world will begin. What happens on Sunday, when everything is the same as it was the day before?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but think about the Heaven's Gate group, who killed themselves to hop a comet, with Nikes on their feet and rolls of quarters in their pockets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I'm going to be hooping in the park Saturday night when the rapture is supposed to happen. What are you doing? Throwing a party? Praying? Praying that people come to your party? What do you think about this whole thing?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4600627835490599676?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4600627835490599676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4600627835490599676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4600627835490599676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4600627835490599676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/oh-yeah-rapture-is-saturday.html' title='Oh yeah, the Rapture is Saturday!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1304149549813326431</id><published>2011-05-16T09:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:19:52.243-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birthday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>Oh look! Another "I'm getting old" post!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cpxHN31NYvc/TdE34p2iydI/AAAAAAAAARI/f50o3Tf0w1Y/s1600/svenheather.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cpxHN31NYvc/TdE34p2iydI/AAAAAAAAARI/f50o3Tf0w1Y/s320/svenheather.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607324457499806162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin Sven and I, Berlin, Germany 1987&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was younger, I used to think that when I could say that I've been friends with someone for 20 years, that's when I'd feel old. It was a phrase I heard from my mom all the time when talking about someone we'd run into at the store, "Oh, I've known her for 20 years". This afternoon I was looking at photos from a family trip to Germany in 1980's, and I realized that I have friends that I've known for 25 years. TWENTY FIVE YEARS?! Sure, they were some of my first friends, but still people I keep in touch with and see on occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe I'm to be 30 in less than six months. It's not going to be pretty. Either I'm going to lose my mind and get some bizarre haircut and a bad tattoo (like the word "reality", with the quotes) or I'm going to climb in bed, draw the shades, and cry for 24 hours. Neither option is a good one. I see friends who have turned 30, and are happy about it. Hopefully that happens for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1304149549813326431?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1304149549813326431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1304149549813326431' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1304149549813326431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1304149549813326431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/oh-look-another-im-getting-old-post.html' title='Oh look! Another &quot;I&apos;m getting old&quot; post!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cpxHN31NYvc/TdE34p2iydI/AAAAAAAAARI/f50o3Tf0w1Y/s72-c/svenheather.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4338395057394363943</id><published>2011-05-13T12:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:20:04.257-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>FAIL</title><content type='html'>So what did you do while Blogger was down? Take care of some of those meddling chores? Pay some bills? Pull your hair out? Not notice at all that there was a problem?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4338395057394363943?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4338395057394363943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4338395057394363943' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4338395057394363943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4338395057394363943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/fail.html' title='FAIL'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8532080350811728760</id><published>2011-05-11T09:21:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:21:21.726-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self realization'/><title type='text'>Spanx? No thanks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4UgDlk2mkQA/Tcqf94IMtJI/AAAAAAAAARA/OGaHucQWrJA/s1600/girdle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 192px; height: 263px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4UgDlk2mkQA/Tcqf94IMtJI/AAAAAAAAARA/OGaHucQWrJA/s320/girdle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605468571603612818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this week I'm making my Hoopnotica Instructer training video, and after seeing myself in a test of said video, I nearly cried. I'm not thrilled with my body, but on most days I take it in stride. I work out and eat better and have lost some pounds since beginning hooping. Still, nothing could have prepared me for that video. It was at the point where I honestly felt like my respect for Husband had decreased, because he married me (and I was like 15 pounds heavier then!). But I got over it and headed out to buy some Spanx. Yes, that dreaded undergarment. I haven't worn anything similar since my wedding day, and wow, WOW. This was awful. The only way I can describe it is it's as if it was created by Satan himself. Forget the physical pain of it, the emotional toll of seeing myself going to this ridiculous length to look better made me feel worse. Learning how to hoop isn't purely a physical thing, it's a mental thing, enlightening, and sometimes even spiritual. That's what I'm supposed to teach! And here I am falling into a silly trap. I feel like I've taken 2 steps backward because of those stupid Spanx. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, throw the girdles away. I can't imagine it being worth it. Any tips on how to gain back my self esteem?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8532080350811728760?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8532080350811728760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8532080350811728760' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8532080350811728760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8532080350811728760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/spanx-no-thanks.html' title='Spanx? No thanks.'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4UgDlk2mkQA/Tcqf94IMtJI/AAAAAAAAARA/OGaHucQWrJA/s72-c/girdle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7056486081394429455</id><published>2011-05-10T09:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:21:30.886-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self realization'/><title type='text'>Learning to play the piano?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wLbX1Dz0CcY/TclQeF7AIkI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/moXfFIRedFw/s1600/Sample-piano-sheet-music.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 279px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wLbX1Dz0CcY/TclQeF7AIkI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/moXfFIRedFw/s320/Sample-piano-sheet-music.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605099689155240514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister's family is a musical one. Growing up we didn't play instruments, and looking back, I didn't really have an interest in learning one. Sure, I wanted to be able to sit in front of a piano and play, but I knew the work that went into reading music and that made the aspiration more than a little daunting. But after going to New York and seeing my seven year old niece play the guitar and the piano, I felt inspired. So after seeing a great keyboard on sale, husband and I decided to get it and see if it was something we could do. I love this thing (and he does too)! Reading music is INSANELY hard (who creates such a bizarre system?!), but when it comes together, and you can play a song that you actually like, it's amazing. I see it a lot like baking. When you bake, you put all these seemingly random ingredients together and get this great result. When you play the piano, all these random notes are put together to make great music. I'm quite positive I'll never play at Carnegie Hall, but I'm definitely on my way to playing Christmas carols during the holiday season, or some Modest Mouse when I really want to impress Husband. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Do you play an instrument? Which one, and how long? Any tips for an adult who's learning?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7056486081394429455?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7056486081394429455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7056486081394429455' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7056486081394429455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7056486081394429455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/learning-to-play-piano.html' title='Learning to play the piano?!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wLbX1Dz0CcY/TclQeF7AIkI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/moXfFIRedFw/s72-c/Sample-piano-sheet-music.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2986518570011158883</id><published>2011-05-08T12:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:21:40.195-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>Suggest new blogs please!</title><content type='html'>Can someone suggest some new blogs to me? A lot the blogs I've been reading over the years have slowed down or taken different turns, so I'm looking for some new life on reader. Not into mommy blogs or food blogs, so anything else would be awesome. Thanks y'all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2986518570011158883?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2986518570011158883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2986518570011158883' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2986518570011158883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2986518570011158883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/suggest-new-blogs-please.html' title='Suggest new blogs please!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7674115407694970619</id><published>2011-05-04T17:41:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:22:26.060-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>Reality TV shaping opinions?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1b8oYMAeaVo/TcP10mMI4TI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Uh4wBsIuCBg/s1600/realworldseason1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 310px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1b8oYMAeaVo/TcP10mMI4TI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Uh4wBsIuCBg/s320/realworldseason1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603592645332492594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hulu Plus is now on xbox, and when I realized that the first 4 seasons of the Real World were available, my heart literally jumped. The first season of the Real World was the first tv show I really loved. It was with that season that my love of New York City was born. I was about 10 or 11 when the show first aired, and I thought these people were the epitome of cool. I realize now that the oldest cast member was 3 years younger than I am now, but watching the show again, they STILL seem crazy smart and "with it". I almost hate to admit it, but that season shaped a lot of my opinions. They made me think about things I hadn't thought about before, like homosexuality and pro choice vs. pro life. Looking back, I wonder if it was ok for a kid my age to be watching a show that talked about such deep issues, but I certainly do appreciate that I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing what an impact this show made on me makes me wonder, what shows are making an impact on kids today? Jersey Shore? Teen mom? Skins? That really scares me. But maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe young people do talk more about politics and moral issues and world affairs than I know. Maybe I'm expecting too much from kids. Maybe the people who were on that first season of the Real World were not an accurate depiction of 20 somethings in the early 90's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Did anyone specifically, or any tv show or movie, shape some of your beliefs? Who inspired opinions you've held onto through adulthood?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7674115407694970619?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7674115407694970619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7674115407694970619' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7674115407694970619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7674115407694970619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/reality-tv-shaping-opinions.html' title='Reality TV shaping opinions?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1b8oYMAeaVo/TcP10mMI4TI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Uh4wBsIuCBg/s72-c/realworldseason1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7436419574354199936</id><published>2011-05-04T12:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:22:37.877-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><title type='text'>Sunday night breaking news...</title><content type='html'>So, Sunday night after lugging everything in the house, I checked Twitter and saw that Don Lemon from CNN tweeted that the President was going to make an announcement about something. I ignored it, until my sister texted me and told me to put on the news. So Osama Bin Laden is dead. Obviously, this is something that everyone has wanted for the last 9 1/2 years. He's the mastermind behind 9/11, and without him, the entire Afghanistan war wouldn't have had to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, and I know it's not just me, something feels really strange about being excited about someone's death. The breaking news, yes, that's exciting. Knowing that the guy who is the head of a terrorist organization will no longer be able to head that group, yes, that's exciting. But I would have been much more comfortable had they captured him and put him in prison. I realize that likely wasn't a viable option. Seeing people elated and excited about death just creeps me out a little bit. Granted, I've never lost someone to a murderer, so I cannot imagine what it's like to have to deal with the person who did it be out there, free. Neither have most of the people I see who are so elated. It still just feels odd though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that people can find some peace now. But remember the story about the Zen master and the boy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;On his 16th birthday, a boy gets a horse as a present. All the villagers say, "How wonderful!" The Zen master says, "We'll see." One day, the boy is thrown from the horse and is hurt and can no longer walk. All the villagers say, "How terrible!" The Zen master says, "We'll see." A short time later, war begins, and all the young men of the village are taken away to be soldiers, but this boy can't fight, so he is spared, and all the villagers say, "How wonderful!" And the Zen master says, "We'll see...",&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7436419574354199936?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7436419574354199936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7436419574354199936' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7436419574354199936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7436419574354199936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/sunday-night-breaking-news.html' title='Sunday night breaking news...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8748759879368811663</id><published>2011-05-03T10:45:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:22:53.056-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Home bittersweet Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3G9-yXQEoj0/TcAkU-EsOEI/AAAAAAAAAQo/MhXojTQ7Q2M/s1600/IMG_2683.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3G9-yXQEoj0/TcAkU-EsOEI/AAAAAAAAAQo/MhXojTQ7Q2M/s320/IMG_2683.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602517879127554114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home sweet home! After a long trip from Louisiana to NY, the trip back to Louisiana, then Festival International, then back to Houston, I'm still exhausted. Living room floor is covered with clothes, Easter candy, and books. Will definitely attempt to wade through all of this stuff today. The trip north was so fantastic, getting to see my sister and bro in law, and getting to spend quality time with my nieces and nephews was completely worth the long, often boring, yet on the way back terrifying (due to the tornadoes), car trip. The best part of the trip was seeing my 7 year old niece learn to shoulder hoop and reverse waist hoop! But honestly, it was all great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully husband and I can do it together this summer to head back to NY, but a few things are up in the air. Which I hate. I hate it when things aren't perfectly settled all of the time. Must be the German in me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was your Easter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8748759879368811663?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8748759879368811663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8748759879368811663' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8748759879368811663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8748759879368811663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/05/home-bittersweet-home.html' title='Home bittersweet Home'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3G9-yXQEoj0/TcAkU-EsOEI/AAAAAAAAAQo/MhXojTQ7Q2M/s72-c/IMG_2683.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3827258682686230845</id><published>2011-04-22T06:50:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:23:03.910-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Surprise! I'm in New York!</title><content type='html'>For the last month, my sister and I have been talking about the family vacation in August, everything we're going to do, buy, etc. Little did she know I planned to head up to western New York this week with my parents! We got here yesterday after a surprisingly quick 2 day drive. Usually that drive is nearly the death of me, but this time around it seemed to fly. Everyone was so surprised, which was completely the point. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2ZrQEiGwZg/TbF1KSRMoOI/AAAAAAAAAQY/r_F4N6yTJvU/s1600/140.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2ZrQEiGwZg/TbF1KSRMoOI/AAAAAAAAAQY/r_F4N6yTJvU/s320/140.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598384631361347810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh hey winter!&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, the weather is a shock to my system. Not just the cold, but the whole "no leaves on the trees" thing. Usually I'm here in the autumn or early winter, and I kind of expected everything to look different. But it doesn't. So now I keep wanting to Christmas shop! Nothing wrong with that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only thing that could make this better was if Husband was here. But, alas, it wasn't possible. Maybe this summer? I hope so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3827258682686230845?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3827258682686230845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3827258682686230845' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3827258682686230845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3827258682686230845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/surprise.html' title='Surprise! I&apos;m in New York!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2ZrQEiGwZg/TbF1KSRMoOI/AAAAAAAAAQY/r_F4N6yTJvU/s72-c/140.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8215461772418813845</id><published>2011-04-18T12:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:23:13.055-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>Want something deeper to read?</title><content type='html'>A couple of weeks I suggested to one of my best friends that she start a blog. Her writing is great, incredibly articulate and thought provoking, and it deserves a better place than just Facebook. So she did!! It's titled&lt;a href="http://milktheostrich.blogspot.com"&gt; Conceptual Eccentricity&lt;/a&gt;(click the link), go check it out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8215461772418813845?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8215461772418813845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8215461772418813845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8215461772418813845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8215461772418813845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/couple-of-weeks-i-suggested-to-one-of.html' title='Want something deeper to read?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3347057886764539670</id><published>2011-04-15T10:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:23:33.240-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Amish for Homeland Security</title><content type='html'>I watched a show earlier about the most shocking acts of violence, on E!. The fact that a show like this is on a network titled "Entertainment!" is sad in itself. But I watched it, so I guess they got what they wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the show featured the incident where the guy went into an Amish school in Pennsylvania and killed 5 girls. According to his suicide note, he was angry at God for taking away his infant daughter soon after birth. Ovbiously, the violence is incomprehensible. But it's what happened afterward that made my heart swell. The Amish comforted the killer's family. One grandfather of a murder victim said on the same day of the shooting, "We must not think evil of this man". They got a lot of money in donations after the incident, and in turn established a fund for the wife and sons of the killer. I cannot even comprehend how hard it would be to have a child killed in a rampage, but to turn around, look at the family of the killer and realize, "It's not their fault, they need help too"? That is pure love. That is a mentality every single human being neeeds to strive for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aWUMQYg6q6M/TadWpemvMhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/shRurkl-wT8/s1600/Amish-For-Homeland-Security-T_47FF37B6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 230px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aWUMQYg6q6M/TadWpemvMhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/shRurkl-wT8/s320/Amish-For-Homeland-Security-T_47FF37B6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595536332621296146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;We can hope, right?&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3347057886764539670?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3347057886764539670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3347057886764539670' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3347057886764539670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3347057886764539670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/amish-for-homeland-security.html' title='Amish for Homeland Security'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aWUMQYg6q6M/TadWpemvMhI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/shRurkl-wT8/s72-c/Amish-For-Homeland-Security-T_47FF37B6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8522122745631622739</id><published>2011-04-14T11:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:23:46.512-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><title type='text'>The shuttle saga continues...</title><content type='html'>As you know, Houston, home of Mission Control, didn't get a shuttle. New York City did. The big question is why? Yes, I realize they get more tourism than we do, but is that a good enough reason? Does this mean every attraction, every musem should be there, since they get the most visitors? No.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently &lt;a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2011/04/13/2011-04-13_new_york_deserves_better_than_fake_enterprise_shuttle_prototype_while_la_va_get_.html"&gt;Joanna Molloy&lt;/a&gt; thinks NYC should have gotten a BETTER shuttle. They got Enterprise, which never flew, it was a prototype. My opinion? That was more than they deserved. And the article she wrote about it (click her name)? An absolute joke. She interjects Johnny Depp and Kim Kardashian into a conversation about one of the most important programs this country has ever produced, the space program. Classy. Also, she's annoyed that "someplace called Chantilly, Va., gets the Discovery". Um, that's DC Metro. It's where the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center is, an annex of the National Air &amp; Space Museum. A simple Wiki search could have told her that. I know writers for small hometown papers who look like Carl Bernstein next to this woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love New York City. I really do. When I was 17, I took a bus there,alone, and loved it. I even have the letters NYC and a red apple tattooed on my back. But the increasingly arrogrant attitude of the city, and so many people in it, is nauseating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8522122745631622739?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8522122745631622739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8522122745631622739' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8522122745631622739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8522122745631622739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/shuttle-saga-continues.html' title='The shuttle saga continues...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-519900955168412913</id><published>2011-04-13T11:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:24:12.305-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men vs women'/><title type='text'>When did it become ok to practically yell, "I'M DUMB AS A BRICK"?</title><content type='html'>So a female reporter was not allowed into a locker room after the Master's golf tournament. A security guard (a woman) wasn't aware that female reporters were allowed (and have been for 33 years, and male reporters are allowed in female locker rooms). The Master's officials apologized and that's that. Here are some of the genius comments from CNN's readers on the topic, many from guys who didn't even read the article they were commenting on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: wadestr&lt;br /&gt;Another perverted female reporter. Men are denied access to the locker rooms of women athletes while female reporters are allowed in. Women should not be allowed in mens locker rooms. Any women that goes into a the men's locker room deserves to be raped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: ShepardMan&lt;br /&gt;So she is angry because she didn't get to see his "club".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: shullfinn&lt;br /&gt;Funny, how equality never seems to be equality for all. Either allow men reporters into women’s locker rooms, or hold interviews somewhere else. This is friggin stupid really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: BenDover69&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, it's a men's only club. I'm glad. Keep her out. She doesn't belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: vegasguy&lt;br /&gt;This "andshewasnot" (hey, that's me!) broad is a real manhater. Clearly one of those perpetual single women who loves to put down the guys. Shheesh. Poor girl. Go bake a cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was just because I suggested he read the article. Tsk tsk tsk! I guess I was just surprised by the underlying disgust men have for women. Is it Pollyanna of me to think that this kind of attitude was gone? I guess so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a look at the user names too. Classy classy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-519900955168412913?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/519900955168412913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=519900955168412913' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/519900955168412913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/519900955168412913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/when-did-it-become-ok-to-practically.html' title='When did it become ok to practically yell, &quot;I&apos;M DUMB AS A BRICK&quot;?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-26356374156646202</id><published>2011-04-12T12:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:26:13.253-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><title type='text'>Houston, we have a problem*</title><content type='html'>I didn't want to write this post and I certainly didn't want to write that cliched title. But it must be done. As you know, the space program is coming to an end, and today it was decided which cities were going to get a shuttle. Houston, Texas is not on that list. Houston, home of Mission Control, will NOT have a space shuttle. This is heart breaking, absolutely ridiculous, and just plain sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GipjFB-9OJI/TaSDmZxEtAI/AAAAAAAAAQI/wSf4DCaqUo8/s1600/swigert.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 202px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GipjFB-9OJI/TaSDmZxEtAI/AAAAAAAAAQI/wSf4DCaqUo8/s320/swigert.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594741332875981826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;You said it Jack Swigert...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;*Yes, I know the quote is "Houston, we've had a problem here".&lt;/small&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-26356374156646202?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/26356374156646202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=26356374156646202' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/26356374156646202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/26356374156646202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/houston-we-have-problem.html' title='Houston, we have a problem*'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GipjFB-9OJI/TaSDmZxEtAI/AAAAAAAAAQI/wSf4DCaqUo8/s72-c/swigert.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8195604641391550805</id><published>2011-04-11T07:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:26:43.804-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self realization'/><title type='text'>A funk</title><content type='html'>Husband had his wisdom teeth taken out Friday, so it was a strange weekend. He wasn't feeling well and I was beyond nervous about the whole situation. He's fine now, but my anxiety level hasn't dropped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably didn't help that I spent most of the evenings on CNN's comment boards, interacting with the stupidest people on Earth. I hate snarkiness, but when it comes to politics and people who cannot understand cause and effect, I get downright rude. Then spend an hour feeling bad about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in such a funk right now, even hooping isn't getting me out of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;When you're in a bad/anxious/sad mood, what do you do to get out of it?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8195604641391550805?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8195604641391550805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8195604641391550805' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8195604641391550805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8195604641391550805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/funk.html' title='A funk'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8081419865462290221</id><published>2011-04-06T09:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:27:02.390-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>Remember when Madonna was awesome?</title><content type='html'>I do. My older sister loved Madonna growing up, and even though I was just kid, it was easy to see why. Songs like Borderline and Burning Up, so amazing. Sure, some of my love for the music is probably wrapped up in the nostalgia of wanting desperately to be cool like my sister and her friends. Honestly, I still feel like that on the very rare occasions we (my sister and her high school friends) are all together. One Madonna song of the 80's sticks out more than any other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/N-PB3-g_Jdk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live to Tell, the song for a movie At Close Range, staring Sean Penn and Christopher Walken. I've seen the movie once, but was half asleep on the couch, so I don't really remember a lot about it. The slow motion jumping seen at 1:15? I LOVE IT SO MUCH. No clue why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened to Madonna? She was ok through the early to mid 90's, but now she's so outwardly arrogant that I cannot take her seriously. The only thing I appreciate is that she's adopted children. It can't be easy though to go from pop star to AARP member. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realizing that people like Madonna and Perry Farrell are both over 50, actually makes me feel a bit better about getting older. Maybe 50 really is the new 30.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8081419865462290221?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8081419865462290221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8081419865462290221' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8081419865462290221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8081419865462290221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/remember-when-madonna-was-awesome.html' title='Remember when Madonna was awesome?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/N-PB3-g_Jdk/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4636036917360318669</id><published>2011-04-04T21:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:27:14.651-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><title type='text'>Scrappin' with Husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bS5NHQBfA20/TZqBD0BfgeI/AAAAAAAAAP4/K95bn8NYVh0/s1600/photo-1%2B%25282%2529.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bS5NHQBfA20/TZqBD0BfgeI/AAAAAAAAAP4/K95bn8NYVh0/s320/photo-1%2B%25282%2529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591923789838385634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love crafting just about anything, but I've avoided scrap booking until now. It's a pretty expensive hobby (certainly more so than embroidery, my favorite), but after years of my sister pushing me to start, I have, and it's fun! It's insanely relaxing, and I've even got Husband to help. It's been a stressful few weeks (and likely will continue for the next month), so just being able to hang out together this evening without the phone ringing or anything, has been so nice, and so needed. It's the little things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4636036917360318669?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4636036917360318669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4636036917360318669' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4636036917360318669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4636036917360318669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/04/scrappin-with-husband.html' title='Scrappin&apos; with Husband'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bS5NHQBfA20/TZqBD0BfgeI/AAAAAAAAAP4/K95bn8NYVh0/s72-c/photo-1%2B%25282%2529.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1222742796188297403</id><published>2011-04-01T15:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:27:30.437-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men vs women'/><title type='text'>Women, frat boys are often crap. Control yourself.</title><content type='html'>So I'm watching HLN and they are talking about this story of 2 college students having sex on top of a building. CUE THE HORROR MUSIC. So the host of the show (Laurie Dhue) has two panelists, Lisa Bloom and the guy who wrote "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell", Tucker Max. The two women are going on and on about how sad this is for the woman, and all college girls in general, because woman are treated like such shit by the guys they go to school with. Um, women are not lost puppies who cannot make decisions for themselves. If a woman chooses to have sex on top of a building, or with some guy she is *hoping* to turn into a boyfriend, it's not the guy's fault. Does it make him an asshole? Yes. But ultimately, a woman chooses to give herself. Men will have sex anytime, anywhere, it's nothing new, it's not going to change, and women KNOW that. When Tucker Max makes the point that it's incredibly simple to avoid these guys, just don't get involved with them, it's easy to point them out, the interviewer and other panelist blow him off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Now let me be clear, I am NOT talking about incidents of date rape. I'm talking about women trying to make relationships with men who they know, deep down inside, don't want one. I know little about the woman in the sex on top of the building story, but from what I understand, it wasn't rape.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the video&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yHP3_0gBaEI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand, women want to be treated equal to men, but at the same time, want special treatment in cases like this (at least the two ladies in the video). That's nonsense. One of the women on the show said that the only way a woman can avoid the "hook up" culture is to not go to college. What? I know plenty of girls in college who certainly are not part of any such culture. Way to insult all of them, Lisa Bloom, by insinuating that they don't even exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Young women are adults. They are just as picky as men, and often ignore the nice guys, and are attracted to the tools. That's something they need to figure out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I cannot tell a lie. I'm terribly afraid of how I'm going to come off in this blog. My main point, you cannot change men. If they're an asshole, move along. Know someone very well before doing something you'll regret.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1222742796188297403?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1222742796188297403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1222742796188297403' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1222742796188297403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1222742796188297403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/women-frat-boys-are-often-crap-control.html' title='Women, frat boys are often crap. Control yourself.'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/yHP3_0gBaEI/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5478447331960386559</id><published>2011-03-30T12:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:27:42.410-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>If you don't laugh, you'll cry</title><content type='html'>A couple of weeks ago Husband and I got hooked on The Ricky Gervais Show podcasts, after watching the show An Idiot Abroad, featuring one of the guys on the show. Have you ever listened (or watched the animated version on HBO)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxUtsH4aAJI/TZKAH7QTnaI/AAAAAAAAAPw/OT7IXM1chUk/s1600/karl-pilkington-an-idiot-abroad-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 169px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxUtsH4aAJI/TZKAH7QTnaI/AAAAAAAAAPw/OT7IXM1chUk/s320/karl-pilkington-an-idiot-abroad-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589670961173732770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karl Pilkington&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Ricky Gervais and Steven Merchant, the creators of The Office. Also, another man, Karl Pilkington. Karl was the producer Ricky and Steven got when they started their show on XFM. The show is mostly Karl saying things, and Ricky and Steven called him stupid. And this guy definitely is stupid. An absolute moron. The show is so addictive, because you cannot believe the things he says. He thinks a monkey flew a space shuttle, then killed himself afterward because life wasn't as great as when he was an astronaut. He doesn't understand that the brain controls the human body. He thinks we've (as a society) have invented all that needs to be invented. Yes, it sounds like this guy's persona could be created by Gervais and Merchant, but they've assured people they aren't good enough to do that. It took a year to create one season of The Office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another month of listening to these 3 guys, and we're going to have English accents. I already use "brillant" and "maniac" way more than I ever have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iHPgCdGhbng" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5478447331960386559?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5478447331960386559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5478447331960386559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5478447331960386559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5478447331960386559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/if-you-dont-laugh-youll-cry.html' title='If you don&apos;t laugh, you&apos;ll cry'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TxUtsH4aAJI/TZKAH7QTnaI/AAAAAAAAAPw/OT7IXM1chUk/s72-c/karl-pilkington-an-idiot-abroad-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4993107199097834690</id><published>2011-03-29T11:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:27:54.237-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Being flabbergasted is getting old</title><content type='html'>To become president of the United States, one must be a natural born citizen. Now, to me, that says, someone who was born an American citizen, not someone who chose to renounce citizenship of their own country to become an American (i.e. Arnold Schwarzenegger). My sister was born in Germany, but because my mom is an American, she is an American citizen. So even if you're a birther, you have to contend that Barack Obama is a natural born citizen, because even if you think he wasn't born in America (despite the fact that he has produced a birth certificate THREE YEARS AGO), he was born to an American mother. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why or why are we still having this discussion then? Why is Donald Trump now on board the "I don't know if he was born here" train? The state of Hawaii released a birth certificate, the hospital he was born at in Hawaii placed newspaper announcements documenting the president's birth, yet when faced with these facts, Donald Trump just blows it off as not being true. What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we have Newt Gingrich, who claims to be afraid that America will become "a secular atheist country, potentially one dominated by radical Islamists". Absolute fail at trying to cram 2 scare tactics into one statement. I can't do anything but laugh at this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bigger point is this. I have to wonder, are these guys both really this foolish, or do their statements really indicate what they think about the intelligence levels of their supporters?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4993107199097834690?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4993107199097834690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4993107199097834690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4993107199097834690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4993107199097834690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/being-flabbergasted-is-getting-old.html' title='Being flabbergasted is getting old'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3891303554534811624</id><published>2011-03-29T09:26:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:28:09.677-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><title type='text'>"Ohh, well ain't that America..."</title><content type='html'>I'm in a terrible mood (I'm a worrier beyond belief), so here's a photo of something that makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HNs6-yixBnE/TZHu6oAHp4I/AAAAAAAAAPo/L0p10qXCk3o/s1600/driveinlighter.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HNs6-yixBnE/TZHu6oAHp4I/AAAAAAAAAPo/L0p10qXCk3o/s320/driveinlighter.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589511303481239426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but hear a John Cougar Mellencamp song everytime I go to the drive in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3891303554534811624?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3891303554534811624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3891303554534811624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3891303554534811624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3891303554534811624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/ohh-well-aint-that-america.html' title='&quot;Ohh, well ain&apos;t that America...&quot;'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HNs6-yixBnE/TZHu6oAHp4I/AAAAAAAAAPo/L0p10qXCk3o/s72-c/driveinlighter.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2482209162655056079</id><published>2011-03-25T07:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:28:25.969-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><title type='text'>An easier Easter egg hunt? Sheesh.</title><content type='html'>Last night, Husband and I were in Target shopping for Easter candy, sort of in the way adults in their 20's do when they realize, "Hey, I can eat this stuff all day and no one will stop me!", and we saw this thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mdHozCu-hl8/TYwE7McUlWI/AAAAAAAAAPg/vcXhkroUNEg/s1600/egggrabber.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mdHozCu-hl8/TYwE7McUlWI/AAAAAAAAAPg/vcXhkroUNEg/s320/egggrabber.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587846652658750818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a tool for kids to use to pick up Easter eggs while hunting them. Because apparently it is too much for a kid to bend down a foot, now they need something to make it easier. You've got to be kidding me. GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. I don't even know what else to say. We've got a First Lady practically begging parents to help get their kids healthier, and this is what is being sold in stores. So sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2482209162655056079?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2482209162655056079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2482209162655056079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2482209162655056079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2482209162655056079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/easier-easter-egg-hunt-sheesh.html' title='An easier Easter egg hunt? Sheesh.'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mdHozCu-hl8/TYwE7McUlWI/AAAAAAAAAPg/vcXhkroUNEg/s72-c/egggrabber.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-778298466017484352</id><published>2011-03-23T07:15:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:28:41.321-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fitness'/><title type='text'>Jesus take the...pole?</title><content type='html'>This morning while on the other side of the house, I hear Husband hollering for me to come see something on the tv. This is what I saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b5bf7stbsbc/TYnq9ho1CfI/AAAAAAAAAPY/o3MLak7BA9k/s1600/pole.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 277px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b5bf7stbsbc/TYnq9ho1CfI/AAAAAAAAAPY/o3MLak7BA9k/s320/pole.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587255155452348914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, I live in Spring, Texas (a suburb of Houston). Old Spring is less a town, more like an area, with old shops and the like. I've driven through once, but never stopped in. That may change now. Apparently there is a pole dance class being taught, and one, which is free when you bring the flyer from church, is called Pole Dancing for Jesus. Obviously, one can come out with a million reasons why this is wrong. It's pretty safe to assume Jesus wouldn't want women to pole dance, right? Well, I don't know. If a woman is doing this in her own home, for her husband, it goes right along with building an important part of one's relationship. I've heard of Christian belly dance classes, Christian Jazzercize classes. How is this any different? And personally, as a very liberal, left leaning Christian, this church that is allowing the teacher to put flyers there, is the kind of free thinking church that I'm interested in. Other not typical Christians might think the same thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think? Wrong? Ok? Think we should be all concerned with things other than judging the exercise routines of people? (I have to admit, all I can think of is that song from a few years ago, "I'm in love with a stripppperrrr". Tell me I'm not the only one who remembers the tune!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT: After checking out the facebook page for the studio offering this class, I see that all you have to bring in is your church bulletin, from any church (that is Christian I assume).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-778298466017484352?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/778298466017484352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=778298466017484352' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/778298466017484352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/778298466017484352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/im-in-love-with-christian-stripper.html' title='Jesus take the...pole?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b5bf7stbsbc/TYnq9ho1CfI/AAAAAAAAAPY/o3MLak7BA9k/s72-c/pole.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5402094611705352128</id><published>2011-03-21T17:41:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:29:03.713-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>Will every trip to Louisiana make me feel like this?</title><content type='html'>There are a lot of different kinds of friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are the friends who are also family. Moms, dads, sisters, who are always there for you. These are the people you'll know forever, the ones who remind you that you must have done something right in life to have them in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are the people you don't see often, but when you do, it's like old times and you wonder "Why the hell did we drift apart?!". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are the friends who you HAVE reconnected with, and they become your best friend, and they make life in a new city so much more fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are the people you thought would be around always. The people who now you are always trying to contact, but they never contact you back. The people who show you time and time again that they aren't worth your tears. These are the ones you have to just let go. I'm finally doing that for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally there are the friends who, even though you've known them for the least amount of time, they treat seeing you as an event. They're funny and smart and, even for just a couple of hours, make you feel like nothing has changed. They love you and miss you, and you them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You ladies (and a couple of guys) know who you are. Thank you, you make me smile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5402094611705352128?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5402094611705352128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5402094611705352128' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5402094611705352128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5402094611705352128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/will-every-trip-to-louisiana-make-me.html' title='Will every trip to Louisiana make me feel like this?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3895635407891234797</id><published>2011-03-18T11:39:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:29:23.582-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Mmmm...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhxQ873h7r0/TYOLaqq-SMI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/kN4QwPDsPKY/s1600/crawfish1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhxQ873h7r0/TYOLaqq-SMI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/kN4QwPDsPKY/s320/crawfish1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585461253116938434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boiled crawfish. The best meal ever. Don't be fooled, Lent in southern Louisiana doesn't mean sacrifice, at least when it comes to food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3895635407891234797?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3895635407891234797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3895635407891234797' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3895635407891234797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3895635407891234797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/mmmm.html' title='Mmmm...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yhxQ873h7r0/TYOLaqq-SMI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/kN4QwPDsPKY/s72-c/crawfish1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2347810615894602514</id><published>2011-03-18T08:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:29:44.902-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kids'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self realization'/><title type='text'>Does your life end at conception?</title><content type='html'>As you know, I don't have kids. I do want children though, quite badly. But this isn't that kind of post, this isn't about sour grapes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facebook gives us an insight into people's lives. I have a lot of moms on my list, and I have to admit, it can be annoying. It's like when you're planning a wedding, every little detail matters to you, and some women cannot understand how those little details don't matter to everyone else. When I was planning my wedding, I remember telling my sister on the phone, "Oh, these are the colors we picked, and it's great because Husband likes them too," and she reminded me that he probably doesn't care. And she was right! So when it comes to people's constant posts about every little thing their child does, I have to wonder if they really believe everyone is as interested as they are. I'm talking about the people who when you scroll through their updates, 9 out of ten are about their kids. Some may think, "Oh, you just don't get it, you will when you have your own." No, I won't. My sister is a great example. She has 3 children, a career, and a husband. You know what else she has? Her own interests. She makes it work. I have no idea how she does it, but she does. When we talk on the phone, of course we talk about my nieces and nephew, I love them and want to know the silly things they've been up to, but we also talk about cameras, politics, books and tv shows(that's mostly me, she definitely doesn't have time to keep up with the shows like I do). But there are some moms I know who I couldn't tell you one thing about them other than things about their kids. And I don't mean just moms on Facebook, I mean some moms in real life too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That scares the crap out of me. What happens when the kids get older and need you less? I know that being a parent doesn't mean you have to lose everything about yourself, so why do some women choose that route? Do they make that choice, or do their peers, or society choose it for them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2347810615894602514?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2347810615894602514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2347810615894602514' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2347810615894602514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2347810615894602514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/does-your-life-end-at-conception.html' title='Does your life end at conception?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1183939870339283530</id><published>2011-03-14T09:21:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:29:56.263-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><title type='text'>Earthquake/Tsunami relief</title><content type='html'>Earthquakes are one of the most frightening things I can imagine. Here in the south we have our share of hurricanes, so I get that, but the earth moving? I cannot imagine the terror. As you know, on Friday Japan was hit with an 8.9 earthquake, causing a tremendous tsunami. I spent the majority of the weekend watching coverage of the situation, and needless to say, it's heart breaking. To see a loved one swept away by rushing water, to have your home gone in the blink of an eye, my mind doesn't even wrap around that, no matter how often I've seen it on tv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people don't know, but the Japanese government (and individuals) gave a lot of money and resources to New Orleans after hurricane Katrina (&lt;a href="http://www.nola.com/opinions/index.ssf/2011/03/after_the_tsunami_earthquake_w.html"&gt;click this link&lt;/a&gt;). So to my Louisiana friends (and everyone else), skip the Starbucks for a couple of days and donate. Text REDCROSS to 90999 to give $10 to the Japan Earthquake and Pacific Tsunami relief fund.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1183939870339283530?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1183939870339283530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1183939870339283530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1183939870339283530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1183939870339283530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/earthquaketsunami-relief.html' title='Earthquake/Tsunami relief'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-2848145548914697178</id><published>2011-03-08T09:46:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:30:26.422-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>Everything old is new again</title><content type='html'>I was a teenager of the 90's. I graduated from high school in 1999, so my formative years were right during that grunge era. The other day it dawned on me as I was putting on my skinny jeans (something just 5 years ago I would have NEVER thought I'd wear) that grunge is going to come back. The Courtney Love baby doll dresses and huge Jnco jeans and flannel shirts, it's going to return. And it kind of scared the crap out of me. I'm going to be 30 this year, and it's a little scary. But I'm learning day by day to not compare my life and where I'm at in it to other people, and that makes October 2011 a less frightening month. So I got to thinking about the trends I remember. Pearl Jam, a friend's gold VW beetle, 311, Boone's Farm, and the fashion...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J4LWixLKQfo/TXZTQ3FHJAI/AAAAAAAAAOY/opQp-773Zh4/s1600/country%2Blove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J4LWixLKQfo/TXZTQ3FHJAI/AAAAAAAAAOY/opQp-773Zh4/s320/country%2Blove.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581740337300710402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those little barrettes? I loved them. This hair cut isn't terrible either, definitely doable in 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1hUJ-zwOCD0/TXZTlPsfHrI/AAAAAAAAAOg/-xbXnarrTno/s1600/docmartens.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1hUJ-zwOCD0/TXZTlPsfHrI/AAAAAAAAAOg/-xbXnarrTno/s320/docmartens.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581740687505694386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doc Martens. I didn't really like these boots, so I never pestered my parents for any. I wore boots, but it was definitely a thing I did because other people thought it was cool, not because I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m5pJNLRMixk/TXZT5BtVUxI/AAAAAAAAAOo/FZwJX6z0g6M/s1600/gal_school_clueless_alicia-silverstone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 188px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m5pJNLRMixk/TXZT5BtVUxI/AAAAAAAAAOo/FZwJX6z0g6M/s320/gal_school_clueless_alicia-silverstone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581741027348534034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not grunge, but I loved this look. The whole sweater vest over a button down, I'd do this now if winter wasn't over. Also loved the knee sock look that Clueless brought us. Great movie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA6erZ6H_2k/TXZUKUo-1pI/AAAAAAAAAOw/8gSkKC9O048/s1600/rayanne-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UA6erZ6H_2k/TXZUKUo-1pI/AAAAAAAAAOw/8gSkKC9O048/s320/rayanne-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581741324488332946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rayanne from the show My So Called Life. I wanted this girl's style SO BADLY. The bleached piece of hair in the front, too many necklaces, I thought she was the coolest. The actress is now married to the son of the Earl of Devon, whatever the hell that means. Crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V9mUycYcG-Q/TXZU4_4s7kI/AAAAAAAAAPA/GSAkbmt7-1k/s1600/jnco.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 162px; height: 305px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V9mUycYcG-Q/TXZU4_4s7kI/AAAAAAAAAPA/GSAkbmt7-1k/s320/jnco.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581742126370975298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supposedly, according to some magazine I read, wide leg jeans are coming back this spring though not this wide obviously. I always loved them, so comfy and seemed to make one's waist seem really small. I wore these way past their prime I'm ashamed to say, well into 2002. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What trends did you love? What do you wish would come back? What do you pray never does?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-2848145548914697178?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/2848145548914697178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=2848145548914697178' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2848145548914697178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/2848145548914697178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/everything-old-is-new-again.html' title='Everything old is new again'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J4LWixLKQfo/TXZTQ3FHJAI/AAAAAAAAAOY/opQp-773Zh4/s72-c/country%2Blove.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8239486233284421205</id><published>2011-03-07T11:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:30:40.890-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>What's your class?</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite movies is Sophia Coppolla's Marie Antoinette. It's so beautifully made, with all the decadent clothing and desserts, I watch it several times every October because it always reminds me of my birthday. It also provides a simple reminder of what happens when the rich have it all (and why teenagers shouldn't have power), and the poor have nothing. What is welfare other than scraps thrown to keep the poor subdued? I don't like putting it in those terms, but it's the hard truth. Many people think others are poor because they didn't work hard, but really? Who the hell wants to be poor? Who wants to not know where their next meal is coming from? And have we really become a nation of people who despise those who have less than us? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lot of talk in the media right now about teacher's unions. Some of the hateful vitriol I've heard toward said teachers is insanely frightening. My sister and my brother in law are teachers, people who go to great lengths to make sure the children they teach are prepared for the real world. They certainly are not getting wealthy off of the tax payers, so why are Americans so convinced that they are? And if people TRULY believe that, why aren't millions and millions of people rushing into college to become teachers? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more people like John Boehner and Mitch McConnell get on TV and spew the absolute nonsense they are known for, I have to wonder, why is anyone in the middle class supporting these people? Why do people who make anything under $250,000 vote against themselves? They have to see what the unions have gotten the American worker over the years. I get it, I get it, big business provides the jobs, but what is the point of catering to them and giving them huge tax cuts, just to destroy the jobs of the middle class? If people don't have jobs, they can't buy stuff. So big business loses. Your business cannot be collecting tax cuts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money is really sick. There was a time when I really loved fancy things, loved diamonds and Louis Vuitton, but now, when people talk about money, I get nauseated. Whoever said it was the root of all evil said a mouthful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8239486233284421205?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8239486233284421205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8239486233284421205' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8239486233284421205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8239486233284421205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/whats-your-class.html' title='What&apos;s your class?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-307977388476598446</id><published>2011-03-04T20:15:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:31:23.399-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>That time of spring again...</title><content type='html'>It's that time of year. I need to go to the beach. For years and years we made our yearly trip to Gulf Shores, Alabama during the spring, when my sister and her family would come down from NY during their break from teaching. Recently the month for that trip has changed to August, but either husband and I and my parent's, or just husband and I, have sneaked away sometime in April or May for a couple of days. I need to do this. Problem is that Gulf Shores is now 4 hours further away. Sure, there are beaches here, Galveston and all that. But it's just not the same. In Gulf Shores, we know all the restaurants, the stores, the little places that have made it my second home for so many years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IafqOItA4ik/TXGfhr7cKhI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/vIi864Ts2Jc/s1600/IMG_0793.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IafqOItA4ik/TXGfhr7cKhI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/vIi864Ts2Jc/s320/IMG_0793.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580416814365288978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That view almost makes the 9 hour drive worth it for just 2 nights. But maybe it's time to check out a new place closer to where we are now? Honestly, at this point, a Slip N Slide in the backyard could buy me a couple of more months until I absolutely HAVE to get out of the city.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-307977388476598446?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/307977388476598446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=307977388476598446' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/307977388476598446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/307977388476598446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/03/that-time-of-spring-again.html' title='That time of spring again...'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IafqOItA4ik/TXGfhr7cKhI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/vIi864Ts2Jc/s72-c/IMG_0793.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-772912454872611042</id><published>2011-02-25T08:01:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:31:47.583-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='self realization'/><title type='text'>I  need to stop complaining about complaining</title><content type='html'>I hate complaining. No, really, I do. My problems are my own, and I rarely, if ever, talk about them with anyone. That's probably not healthy, but it is what it is. I guess that's why it bothers me so much when people CONSTANTLY complain about things that just seem so unimportant. You're alive! You have a house! You have the internet! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like this morning, I saw on the news that Sun Chips have come out with a new biodegradable bag that isn't as loud. Really? People are fighting for their freedom all over the world, and Americans are complaining about the loudness of their snack container? Life is too short people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a weird mood today. Excited to see my friend's new apartment tonight, excited to see my folks tomorrow, but annoyed that Husband is going to have to work 2 weeks straight at the office because someone is going on vacation. And when I say straight, I mean 14 days in a row, 12 hours. This is not something that I'm used to anymore, and I realize that this is a million times better because it's on land, 13 minutes from the house, not on a rig in the Gulf of Mexico. But it was unexpected, therefore incredibly annoying. Wow, didn't I JUST say I hate complaining? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This does afford me the time to get my Hoopnotica training done. I'm way more ahead than I thought I was, which feels pretty nice. There is nothing that can relax me the way hoop dance does. An instant mood lift. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What do you do to lift your mood?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-772912454872611042?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/772912454872611042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=772912454872611042' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/772912454872611042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/772912454872611042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/i-need-to-stop-complaining-about.html' title='I  need to stop complaining about complaining'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7200679881423231437</id><published>2011-02-23T11:22:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:32:13.088-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>No obligation to Mardi Gras!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeqL8o1X8fc/TWVFRDp7JlI/AAAAAAAAAOI/GIHa-UR-yhk/s1600/mardigrasblog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeqL8o1X8fc/TWVFRDp7JlI/AAAAAAAAAOI/GIHa-UR-yhk/s320/mardigrasblog.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576939872909469266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I wrote a blog about how I hate Mardi Gras. I guess we get what we asked for, because the Mardi Gras celebration here in Houston is incredibly tiny compared to back home. YES. This makes me so happy, sort of. I'm so tired of faking the Mardi Gras excitement that people have in southern Louisiana. All the "what are you doing? what are we doing? what are we drinking? where are y'all standing for the parades?" talk makes me nuts. I'm nearly 30, I'm over it. Not that I don't miss the king cakes, or the Mardi Gras' from when I was a kid, because those days I would do again (minus the getting up at the crack of dawn to head to the parades). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...I feel a bit jealous. No, I'm not jealous of the traffic through my neighborhood caused by barricades on other streets, or the drinking all day (can't do it anymore), but I'm a little jealous of everyone's excitement. Does that even make sense, when what they are excited about annoys me? I miss Louisiana. The constant party atmosphere just doesn't exist here, and rightly so I suppose. Houston is where people come for jobs or school, not on the top of anyone's list for fun (though there is much fun to be had, surprising to me). We haven't been home since Christmas and likely won't be able to until late next month. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but &lt;a href="http://www.festivalinternational.com"&gt;Festival International &lt;/a&gt;, (click the link) just known to the locals as "Festival", is in April, and I'm so beyond excited for it. Amazing food, world music, great shopping, I cannot even explain it. Last year was one of the best, cannot wait for a repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;What local stuff do you love where you live? What local stuff do you miss from where you used to live?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7200679881423231437?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7200679881423231437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7200679881423231437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7200679881423231437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7200679881423231437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/no-obligation-to-mardi-gras.html' title='No obligation to Mardi Gras!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeqL8o1X8fc/TWVFRDp7JlI/AAAAAAAAAOI/GIHa-UR-yhk/s72-c/mardigrasblog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-4036074717543268526</id><published>2011-02-19T07:58:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:32:26.210-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>Saturday Night Live, you're bringing funny back</title><content type='html'>Have you watched Saturday Night Live lately? I quit for years. It was unfunny and the characters were boring, so I ignored the show. Then my sister started calling me every week saying, "Did you watch SNL this week? It was so funny!", so we began DVRing it. Holy Moley, the show has gotten fracking hilarious. Bill Hader is far and away one of the best on the show, and I fear that he's going to go on to bigger and better things really soon because he's just too good. One of his characters is Stefon, a NYC club kid. Hader can NEVER keep it together when playing this guy and always must laugh, which makes it even funnier. Sticking his tongue into Paul Rudd's mouth on the same episode? That he can do with a straight face. I love this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/C2u2WngDCLU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A longtime friend of mine, Karyn, who is a major fan of the guy (I love, love, love reading her Stefon status updates), posted this bit from David Letterman of Hader talking about how the character came to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VKImAsimszU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really have no idea if any of my readers will even watch these clips or think they're funny, but hey, it gave me a chance to howl with laughter at 8am on a Saturday morning. Oh Bill Hader, you've made it to my list of celebrity crushes. Congratulations!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-4036074717543268526?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/4036074717543268526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=4036074717543268526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4036074717543268526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/4036074717543268526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/saturday-night-live-youre-bringing.html' title='Saturday Night Live, you&apos;re bringing funny back'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/C2u2WngDCLU/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-51827760687760731</id><published>2011-02-18T10:32:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:32:41.320-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crush'/><title type='text'>Who is your celebrity crush?</title><content type='html'>My celebrity crushes are inexplicable. Men from Kevin Smith to Kadeem Hardison (Dwayne Wayne of A Different World) to Chris Noth to Malcolm Jamal Warner (what is it with guys from Bill Cosby created shows?!). And after the hilarity that was Saturday Night Live last week, Russell Brand is 30 pounds away from being my next crush. He could also probably use yoga or something else to calm his nerves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, while going through a photo folder on my computer, I'm reminded of another crush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGxJQmJzSj4/TV6gXE4ET9I/AAAAAAAAANw/oqqcnIcJ8Rk/s1600/t1main.colbert3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGxJQmJzSj4/TV6gXE4ET9I/AAAAAAAAANw/oqqcnIcJ8Rk/s320/t1main.colbert3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575069707037593554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Stephen Colbert. This photo is from when he was invited to testify in front of congress on issues regarding immigration. Is there anything more sexy than a politically informed, funny, sarcastic man? Of course not. That's why I love to start every day discussing topics from Morning Joe with Husband. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you all have a lovely weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-51827760687760731?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/51827760687760731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=51827760687760731' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/51827760687760731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/51827760687760731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/who-is-your-celebrity-crush.html' title='Who is your celebrity crush?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGxJQmJzSj4/TV6gXE4ET9I/AAAAAAAAANw/oqqcnIcJ8Rk/s72-c/t1main.colbert3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3962350491488913679</id><published>2011-02-17T07:52:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:33:04.743-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='genealogy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Who do you think YOU are?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3yaZ8yYKKgY/TV0uqCoV91I/AAAAAAAAANo/RYxGGzXQSmw/s1600/WhoDoYouThinkYouAre.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3yaZ8yYKKgY/TV0uqCoV91I/AAAAAAAAANo/RYxGGzXQSmw/s320/WhoDoYouThinkYouAre.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574663213550008146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a television show on Friday nights called Who Do You Think You Are, and every episode features a different celebrity searching for their ancestors with the help of genealogists. It's based on a show from the UK of the same name with the same premise, and it's incredibly fascinating. Growing up, my parents were (and still are) really into genealogy, and I thought it was a complete bore, until I got older. I suspect a lot of people feel the same way, or, they're afraid of what they may find. Genealogy can bring up lots of things that either people don't want to talk about, or don't know, like crimes, illegitimate children, slavery, different races, etc. And while that can be hard, how can someone NOT want to know where they came from, not want to know what their ancestors went through so that they could be where they are now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, last week's episode was on country singer Tim McGraw. He found that some of his ancestors on his grandmother's side owned a lodge that George Washington slept at when he was 16, and that his family was, 20 years later, cited by George Washington as good business people, when corresponding with a neighbor who wanted to borrow more money from George. Pretty cool to be used as a "good example" by the first President! When going further back, Tim learned that his family came over from Germany, along with many other families, one being the Presley family. As in Elvis Presley. He was almost more excited about that then the Washington connection. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of this made me think of immigration. We know that there needs to be immigration reform. We know that people cannot just come here without the proper documentation. But that process cannot takes years and years and thousands and thousands of dollars. Last fall Husband and I went to Big Bend National Park, a park right on the south west tip of Texas. This terrain is brutal, more harsh than I've personally ever seen. I cannot fathom having such a hard life in a country that I would travel over this land to come to a nation to work for crap wages and be treated terribly by so many in said nation. These are people risking their lives, and so many here speak of them as if they're roaches who are trying to take over. There's another show called Border Wars, and they show these border agents finding people in the night, half dead, who have traveled from places as far as Sri Lanka, just for the American dream. And sometimes the agents feel bad, one remarking that it's like getting tackled on the 1 yard line. Look, I'm no Pollyana on this topic, like I said before, we cannot just leave the border open. But we have to start looking at these people the way we would have wanted OUR ancestors to be looked at when they came here from foreign lands. Immigrants made this nation what it is today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Talk to me. Do you do genealogy? Have you found anything interesting? What do you think the US should do in regards to immigration?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3962350491488913679?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3962350491488913679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3962350491488913679' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3962350491488913679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3962350491488913679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/who-do-you-think-you-are.html' title='Who do you think YOU are?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3yaZ8yYKKgY/TV0uqCoV91I/AAAAAAAAANo/RYxGGzXQSmw/s72-c/WhoDoYouThinkYouAre.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1167159453465091298</id><published>2011-02-15T08:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:33:23.230-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>We hate them for their freedom?</title><content type='html'>Ok. Did I miss something? The entire time George Bush was in office, all we heard from the GOP was "Freedom! We want people in the middle east to have freedom". As you know, Friday, after 18 days of peaceful protesting, the people of Egypt forced their 30 year dictator, Mubarak, out. Young people, in the streets, demonstrating for what they want. A revolution right before our eyes. Fantastic right? Wrong. People at CPAC barely mentioned it. And Glenn Beck is convinced the people of Egypt will vote for Islamic fundamentalists and that a dictator was better than trusting people. This is going to cause the entire middle east to destabilize. Israel is going to get screwed. But wait! Wasn't everything worth it when we invaded Iraq? We were liberators, and it was worth all of the money and the lives! But it's not when people do it on their own? Oooh, I get it. We only want nations to have freedom when we can control it/take credit for it. The people of Egypt need Americans to stand behind them, NOT in front of them. I'm insanely proud of these young people, especially when I look around at the "don't care" attitude of so many young people here. Wasn't the republican mantra during the wars "they hate us for our freedom"? Do we hate them for theirs now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below is an op/ed piece from Eugene Robinson in the Washington Post, saying what I want to say, but obviously, so much more eloquently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The GOP loves freedom, but not for Egypt&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judging by last week's Conservative Political Action Conference, that's a fair question. As Egyptians overthrew the three-decade rule of Hosni Mubarak, politicians who spoke at the annual CPAC gabfest in Washington ranged from silent to grumpy on the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitt Romney, perhaps the leading Republican presidential contender, gave a speech without once mentioning the upheaval in Cairo that may signal the most important geopolitical shift since the end of the Cold War. You'd think that anyone who wanted to be president would be paying attention and might have an opinion or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sen. John Thune of South Dakota, also believed to be considering a presidential run, likewise seemed not to have noticed that the world was changing. Former Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty confined himself to criticizing President Obama for somehow appeasing "Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood." Rep. Ron Paul of Texas, who won the CPAC presidential straw poll, was at least forthright: He said the United States has no "moral responsibility to spread our goodness around the world" and urged the administration "to do a lot less a lot sooner, not only in Egypt but around the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Former House Speaker Newt Gingrich was all over the map. At CPAC, he mentioned "what's happening in Egypt" without commenting further. On Saturday, he told the Associated Press that Mubarak's resignation was "good for the future" but criticized Obama for publicly supporting the dictator's ouster. On Sunday, Gingrich explained on ABC's "This Week" that Obama was right to side with the freedom-loving protesters in Tahrir Square but should have done so privately - as if whispered encouragement, of which there was plenty, had a prayer of making a difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, protests sparked by the Egypt uprising are raging across the Arab world - Algeria, Jordan, Yemen, Bahrain. On Monday, the clamor for democracy surfaced in Iran with the first consequential street demonstrations against theocratic rule since 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;House Speaker John Boehner, at least, has come out forcefully on the side of freedom. But why the ambivalence from so many prominent conservatives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one thing - and I think this applies to most of the tongue-tied potential candidates - there's the fact that all of this is happening on Obama's watch. If everything turns out well, heaven forbid that the president get any credit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The administration's public comments as the Egyptian revolution unfolded seemed to take two steps forward and one step back, but there was never any real question about Obama's sentiments. The United States was by no means in control of events, but the White House used whatever influence it had to push for a transition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conservative mantra has been: Obama Is Always Wrong. Therefore there must be something wrong with the way he handled Egypt - even if it appears, from what we've seen so far, that the result is a historic opening for democracy in the world's most troubled region.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other possible explanation for the lukewarm conservative reaction is a lack of faith in our most cherished democratic values - at least where majority-Islam countries are concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not talking about Glenn Beck's paranoid fantasy of a vast leftist-Islamist conspiracy for world domination; that's a job for a licensed professional with a prescription pad. I'm talking about people such as former U.N. ambassador John Bolton, who told CPAC that "democracy as we see it" in Egypt would be all right but grumbled that "a democratic election can produce illiberal results."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, some Egyptians might vote for candidates put forth by the Muslim Brotherhood. It is unlikely that the group would win a majority in free and fair elections - or even that a government headed by the Muslim Brotherhood, if it came to that, would necessarily be more dangerous or hostile than the Mubarak regime. But Bolton and some others seem to believe that only political parties of which the United States approves should be allowed to participate in Egyptian elections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Former Sen. Rick Santorum, another presidential contender, used his CPAC speech to blast Obama's handling of Egypt; for weeks, Santorum has been claiming that elections there would lead straight to "sharia law." Pam Geller, the conservative blogger who led opposition to the Lower Manhattan mosque, crashed the CPAC conference and told an interviewer from Mother Jones magazine that Mubarak's fall was "catastrophic" and would lead to sharia law throughout the Middle East.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These conservatives are arguing that the world's 1.2 billion Muslims cannot be trusted to govern themselves. That's not what I call loving freedom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1167159453465091298?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1167159453465091298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1167159453465091298' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1167159453465091298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1167159453465091298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/we-hate-them-for-their-freedom.html' title='We hate them for their freedom?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-8322682230469064625</id><published>2011-02-14T07:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:33:39.136-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Valentine's Day, you're doing it right</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5vB05RfUCYU/TVaR-HKHB9I/AAAAAAAAANg/tKA0xVybVv8/s1600/Strip-House-460x345.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5vB05RfUCYU/TVaR-HKHB9I/AAAAAAAAANg/tKA0xVybVv8/s320/Strip-House-460x345.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572802085176936402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow is all I can say right now. I'm not a bragger, and I hate when other people do it, but I must dote on Husband right now, so if you don't want to read it, I get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to do Valentine's Dinner Friday night, because he wanted to go to a certain restaurant and the only reservations Saturday night were too late. We aren't reservations people, more like, "Crap, we're leaving in 3 hours, call and put us on the 'sorta reservation list that casual restaurants do'" people. I mean, I'm no slouch. I've eaten in fine restaurants in Los Angeles, New York City, Berlin, and New Orleans. But as a Louisiana girl, I know that some of the best food in the world comes from little country stores in the middle of no where, or a seafood restaurant where the crawfish ponds are RIGHT behind it and the table is adorned with a roll of paper towels and condiments the stored in the cardboard box that usually holds a six pack of bottle neck beers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. The restaurant he took me to was &lt;a href="http://www.striphouse.com/"&gt;The Strip House&lt;/a&gt;. Several locations in the US, and after some googling, I find that apparently celebrities frequent this place! But this is Houston not Las Vegas, so no Katy Perry or Bruce Willis. Thank goodness. So we drive into the city, get to the place, and there's valet. I'm a giddy school girl at this point. We walk into the place, and it's dark and everything is red and there's a huge wine room. We go to the table and there are roses there he had delivered for me. WHAT?! I felt like I was about to be proposed to, or brought to the gas chamber. The waiters wear tuxedos with white jackets, the bus boys were in suits. It was all just too much. I had some sort of lobster pasta that was fantastic, and two cocktails just to relax me. I've never felt so out of place, yet so IN place, at the same time. It was just one of those perfect city nights that make me love Houston. On Saturday we exchanged presents (the Texas OPI nail polish collection and gorgeous World Market jewelry!), had a great night out with friends at a country bar, and last night, instead of watching something he could stomach, he went out and rented Sex and the City 2, a movie I hadn't seen but really wanted to. The man is good, let me tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband, thank you so much. An absolutely fantastic weekend I won't forget. I can only hope you know how much I appreciate, respect, adore, and love you every day, especially the hard ones. We've come a long way eh? I love you honey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-8322682230469064625?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/8322682230469064625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=8322682230469064625' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8322682230469064625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/8322682230469064625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/valentines-day-youre-doing-it-right.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day, you&apos;re doing it right'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5vB05RfUCYU/TVaR-HKHB9I/AAAAAAAAANg/tKA0xVybVv8/s72-c/Strip-House-460x345.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7685224057536044778</id><published>2011-02-10T07:39:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:34:12.498-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hooping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>Grown women are losing their minds</title><content type='html'>This morning while on Twitter I did a search for "hula hooping", just looking for other hoopers to connect with. Unfortunately what I found was a bunch of people ripping some little girl on the show Toddlers and Tiaras, a show about kids in pageants. It's a creepy show, but I've watched several times. Beyond criticizing the talents of children, one woman took it to the point of slamming the little girls clothing and hair. Really? Is that where grown women are, talking smack about little girls? Maybe it's because I'm southern, but those are the manners that I was just not raised with. Will I do it to adults like Jon Stewart and Bill Maher, about the words they say? Absolutely. Have I talked about people's looks in private before? Yes. I'm not a perfect person. But little children, on a public site? No. And if I have, please point it out to me so that I can write another blog begging for an apology, because that behavior is just uncalled for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to this twit's blog and I couldn't help but laugh. She's one of those bloggers who seems to have had a ton of exposure and considers herself a brand, and judging from the first page of her site (the only page I could stomach through), that's about all she talks about. There is nothing that annoys me more than bloggers who constantly talk about blogging. I'm no Norman Mailer (mostly because I'm not an amazing writer and I never tried to murder my spouse), but I would like to believe that a blog about a random movie would be better than hearing about how AWESOME my blog is doing. Oh, there are other things she "writes". Apparently people send her their conundrums, she posts them, and asks YOU, the reader, to fix the problem. That's brilliant, yet ridiculous all at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've thought a bit about posting this, because I assume there is some unwritten rule that as a blogger, where you don't rip other bloggers. But I really don't care. If "making it" in the blogging world means being what this woman is, let me never have another follower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, she responded to my tweet, asking if she's ok with being the kind of person who rips kids. Her response? "Yep. Good with it". And there you go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7685224057536044778?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7685224057536044778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7685224057536044778' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7685224057536044778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7685224057536044778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/grown-women-are-losing-their-minds.html' title='Grown women are losing their minds'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-9011530415480920262</id><published>2011-02-09T10:05:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:34:25.251-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hooping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fitness'/><title type='text'>Spread the hoop love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TVLCQcZdVlI/AAAAAAAAAM4/Me0gVNma4KQ/s1600/heatherhooppark.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TVLCQcZdVlI/AAAAAAAAAM4/Me0gVNma4KQ/s320/heatherhooppark.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571729276767393362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you know if you're ready to do something? Is it just a feeling, or assurance from others, or something else? I recently decided that I'm almost sure I'm ready to proceed with my hoop dance teacher training. I know, very definite, right? There's just nothing like teaching someone to do something they claimed they never could do, no way, no how. Couple that with the fact that the thing you're teaching is exercise and good for their health, and that just makes me want to do it more. I have several options. There are two programs that I'm interested in, one is Hoopnotica, which you may have heard of, and BodyHoops, one you may not have. Hoopnotica is very cool, but BodyHoops seems more fitness oriented. Both offer in person traning (though Hoopnotica doesn't have any in the Houston area in the foreseeable future, but BodyHoops does) and distance training. The distance training interests me more, because I feel that making videos of myself teaching and hooping and having to do written exams is more well rounded than just 8 hours with several other people to only one teacher. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll decide by the end of the week. Just very ready to do this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-9011530415480920262?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/9011530415480920262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=9011530415480920262' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/9011530415480920262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/9011530415480920262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/spread-hoop-love.html' title='Spread the hoop love'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TVLCQcZdVlI/AAAAAAAAAM4/Me0gVNma4KQ/s72-c/heatherhooppark.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5059639887636030605</id><published>2011-02-08T17:09:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:34:39.962-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Black Swan..more like boring swan</title><content type='html'>Have you seen Black Swan? Did you love it? I didn't. Not a huge surprise though. I'm not of a fan of Natalie Portman, especially not when she makes that "oh poor me" face, which must have accounted for 75% of her screen time in this film. The ballet was beautiful, and I was super impressed with her and the other actor's talent. The story bored me nearly to tears. The annoying blond women sitting behind us didn't help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These women were the epitome of why I hate going to the movies unless it's at the drive in or at a late show. They talked the entire time. They bumped into my seat at least once every 15 minutes. WHY OH WHY do people feel the need to narrate a movie? Is someone with you blind? If so, don't sit by people. We should have just gotten up and sat elsewhere, but I didn't want to bother other people by doing that. Am I too nice? You often hear women say, "I'm a bitch so that I can get what I want". I hate that phrase, it disgusts me that women would stoop to being terrible, but in situations like the one I dealt with Saturday night, it definitely seems like being a bitch would have been useful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever happened to being considerate? If it had been teenagers, I would have understood, because teenagers are notoriously rude, but grown up, middle class, middle aged, highlighted hair having women? I'm getting angry about it all over again. I know it's not a big deal, and I take nearly everything in stride usually, but not this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5059639887636030605?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5059639887636030605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5059639887636030605' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5059639887636030605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5059639887636030605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/black-swanmore-like-boring-swan.html' title='Black Swan..more like boring swan'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5112940862649713736</id><published>2011-02-08T09:36:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:35:00.515-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Arabic is not a religion and Islam is not a language</title><content type='html'>This video right here is why I shouldn't watch the news in the morning. It's all someone needs to have their blood pressure shoot through the roof. Why oh why can this guy not tell the difference between Arabic and Islam?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/u7pWUox-hHc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously this is a great idea. The job opportunities for someone who speaks two languages are much greater than someone who speaks one. Especially in a state like Texas, that revolves so much around the oil industry, wouldn't it be great to have more people who speak the language of nations that are heavily involved in said industry? Think about the jobs in the FBI, CIA, military, that desperately need people who speak Arabic. But no, in Mansfield, Texas there is a guy who cannot even see that far past his nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(sorry the vid is cut off on the right, it's due to the layout)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5112940862649713736?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5112940862649713736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5112940862649713736' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5112940862649713736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5112940862649713736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/arabic-is-not-religion-and-islam-is-not.html' title='Arabic is not a religion and Islam is not a language'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/u7pWUox-hHc/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3926055985995146519</id><published>2011-02-07T21:01:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:35:18.217-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>But I wanted snow!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TVC1UwvuF7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/_mClIVi3Jzc/s1600/nyc-valentines-day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TVC1UwvuF7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/_mClIVi3Jzc/s320/nyc-valentines-day.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571152107344369586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your plans for Valentine's Day? I have no clue what I want to do for husband, or what I would want. You know what I get the most happiness from? The aisles of Valentine's Day stuff in the grocery store or drug store. I guess I'm the same the way with Christmas gifts and Halloween decor. Poor husband, I know he feels obligated to go all out, since he was offshore last year, but really, nothing can compare to just strolling through Target, looking at all the cards and stuffed animals and silly trinkets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel out of it. Still angry that we didn't get snow last week I guess. I know that the meteorologists aren't perfect, and I know I shouldn't be behaving like a 10 year old, but I just assumed that when the 4th largest city in America got hyped up about something, it was really going to happen. If I were a meteorologist in this town, I'd be terrified that a band of a 1000 kids would bum rush me while doing my shopping at Kroger. All we got was a ton of ice and 800 car accidents. It's a shock that I'm saying this, but I'm ready for Spring and Summer. I'm ready for Festival International and Gulf Shores and bar b ques and running through the sprinklers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just feeling restless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3926055985995146519?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3926055985995146519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3926055985995146519' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3926055985995146519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3926055985995146519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/but-i-wanted-snow.html' title='But I wanted snow!!'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TVC1UwvuF7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/_mClIVi3Jzc/s72-c/nyc-valentines-day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-3782171289583624575</id><published>2011-02-02T09:34:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:35:39.622-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weekends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Tiffany lamps, Exorcisms, Protests, and COLD</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TUl5xnhWCTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/kotxHipXAiw/s1600/art%2Bnouveau.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TUl5xnhWCTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/kotxHipXAiw/s320/art%2Bnouveau.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569116307549718834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ceiling of a bar in midtown that we went to Saturday night with some friends. I fell in love with this place! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's been going on other than seeing new bars? Well, we watched The Rite the other night. It was ok. Exorcisms are always scary, but I'm not sure I believe in them, so that takes some of the "umph" out. Anthony Hopkins is a creepy dude though, and the movie sort of made me want to go to Church. I couldn't help but think that maybe it was funded by the Pope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operation No Biting Nails is going strong. It's amazing really, considering how little will power I have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's COLD here in Houston. 25 degrees right now at 9:40am. Yesterday morning, at 6am it was 68 degrees, and hour later it was 45. They are predicting snow for Thursday night and Friday, and while I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, they totally are. I realize that much of the rest of the country is going through a blizzard, and I'm sorry, really, I am, but all I want is little, enough to cover the grass. Is that too much to ask? Husband has either been offshore or out of the country for work every time it's snowed in the last 3 years, so come on, make it snow, at least for him! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The super bowl is this weekend. Couldn't care less really. It's amazing how little the game matters when your team isn't it in. Nothing against Pittsburgh or Green Bay, but really, could there be 2 more boring teams? There's no story or excitement, at least to most people outside of those two cities. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but not least, the situation in Egypt. Now Mubarak says, in his attempt to stop the protesting and the turmoil in his country, "I won't run for office again in September." Well, that's nice and all, but you should have said that a week ago before everyone got themselves all riled up. They want you gone yesterday dude, and after 30 years, I gotta agree. Just an old ornery 82 year old who cannot handle change. I bet he hates the internet and rock music too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have you been up to? I haven't been reading blogs like I should, forgive me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-3782171289583624575?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/3782171289583624575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=3782171289583624575' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3782171289583624575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/3782171289583624575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/02/tiffany-lamps-exorcisms-protests-and.html' title='Tiffany lamps, Exorcisms, Protests, and COLD'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TUl5xnhWCTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/kotxHipXAiw/s72-c/art%2Bnouveau.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7899291330049252098</id><published>2011-01-29T17:21:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:35:53.610-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><title type='text'>Teenagers scare me</title><content type='html'>So, you've probably heard of the "new" show on MTV, Skins. It's a remake of a British show based on the same topic, teenagers being bad. I had no intentions of watching it, until Headline News kept drilling it into me that is was "SCANDALOUS", "DIRTY", "TERRIFYING". So I did, and I have to say, this show pressed the snooze button multiple times on my biological clock. Kids wearing too little, talking way too much about sex and drugs and alcohol. I was ready to be one of those people who writes crazy emails to networks, DEMANDING that they take off whatever show I find offensive that week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I thought for a second. How are these kids any different than they way we were? There were drugs and alcohol and sex in the late 90's when I was in high school. It was also there in the 80's, 70's, 60's, and 50's. Were we as hot and smart ass as these kids? Nah, probably not. And obviously not every kid is having the high school experience that the kids on SKINS are having, but it's foolish for parents to put their heads in the ground and pretend their kids are any better than they were. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying teenagers should be watching this show. The last thing they need are ideas. But let's be real, what could they learn that they aren't already doing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7899291330049252098?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7899291330049252098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7899291330049252098' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7899291330049252098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7899291330049252098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/01/teenagers-scare-me.html' title='Teenagers scare me'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-921147524770374000</id><published>2011-01-25T12:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:36:08.923-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>State of the Nursery</title><content type='html'>Tonight is the state of the union. Apparently members of congress have decided to pair off with people of their opposite party. From the ones I saw on TV talking about it, they seem very, very excited, and as if they deserve a treat for their good behavior. Is that where we are in America, that we should be thrilled that grown adults who have different ideas are sitting next to each other? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been a bit MIA lately, for that I apologize. More to come soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-921147524770374000?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/921147524770374000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=921147524770374000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/921147524770374000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/921147524770374000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/01/state-of-nursery.html' title='State of the Nursery'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-1795640483901175884</id><published>2011-01-15T10:01:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:40:30.267-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fitness'/><title type='text'>Words I never thought I'd say: I love scales</title><content type='html'>This week I went to the doctor for a checkup. I loathe going to the doctor. Despise it. Of course, that's not uncommon, but I was at a point the night before where I was hoping the world would end so that I wouldn't have to go. Extreme, I know. But I went, and &lt;b&gt;SURPRISE SURPRISE&lt;/b&gt;, I weigh way less than I thought I did. Not going to get into numbers here, but what I thought and what was real was a 40 pound difference. Though if I'm being totally honest, more like a 17 pound loss since the last time I went to the doctor (well over a year ago).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, when husband worked offshore, I would eat fast food, because who wants to cook for one? Then he would come home, and we'd eat out the whole time, because rig food is terrible. Now, we eat like normal people, at home most of the time and out occasionally. Do I miss having McDonald's for breakfast several days in a row? I guess not, since it didn't occur to me that we stopped doing that until last week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps if I had owned a scale, my weight loss would not have been such a shock, so last night we went out and bought one, and it's my new favorite toy. But what is it about finding out you lost weight that makes you want to eat a large pizza? Because you afford to now, you know? Maybe that's just me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-1795640483901175884?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/1795640483901175884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=1795640483901175884' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1795640483901175884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/1795640483901175884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/01/words-i-never-thought-id-say-i-love.html' title='Words I never thought I&apos;d say: I love scales'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-7150369727627141487</id><published>2011-01-13T07:32:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:40:47.406-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Come together! Please?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TS8NcK9767I/AAAAAAAAAMc/kQ5IA3SBAwg/s1600/ead_butt_Democrat-Republican-Donkey-elephant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TS8NcK9767I/AAAAAAAAAMc/kQ5IA3SBAwg/s320/ead_butt_Democrat-Republican-Donkey-elephant.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561678842457484210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                               &lt;center&gt;Great photo eh? http://www.johnlund.com&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you see the President's speech at the memorial service for those who died and were injured in Saturday's attack in Tuscon? If you didn't, go find it on you tube. His message was clear, we have to quit with the violent nonsense in politics. I can admit, the moment I found out that Congresswoman Giffords was on Sarah Palin's crosshairs map, I made it quite clear that I thought said map was Jared Loughner's inspiration. Now we see that is likely not the case. Angry citizens are nothing new, and while events like those that happened on Saturday are not common, they are not unheard of either. But it does not help when politicians themselves fuel the anger among their supporters. The fact that Sarah Palin put a map like that on her site, and is now surprised that because someone on that map was shot, and she's being singled out (rightly so, or not, doesn't matter really in the age of 24 news and social netowrking), says SO much about her and her thought process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people in congress, on both the left and the right, know you have to work together. Many have been there through 2-3 presidents, they know the drill. You don't always get what you want. They should know better than to get people riled up on the notion that Obama has no plans to work with them and if they (said politician running for office pre Nov. 2010) win, people will get everything they want. And maybe the president WAS too far to the left. But it does seem like he's moving to the middle, and let's be honest, that's how it should be. I hope that people like Boehner will move as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People shouldn't have to die for this discussion to really happen and be taken seriously. Personally? I'm always talking about letting go of the negativity, and I think politics is a place many of us can start. Including me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-7150369727627141487?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/7150369727627141487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=7150369727627141487' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7150369727627141487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/7150369727627141487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/01/httpwww.html' title='Come together! Please?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TS8NcK9767I/AAAAAAAAAMc/kQ5IA3SBAwg/s72-c/ead_butt_Democrat-Republican-Donkey-elephant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-5077060225471801712</id><published>2011-01-08T00:03:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:41:02.467-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><title type='text'>Burlesque. Wow.</title><content type='html'>Last night I saw Burlesque.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's on par with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeve's The Lake House in terms of terribleness. We saw it at the drive in, which was a blessing in itself, since you can talk as much as you want in your car. And I could not stop apologizing to husband for making him sit through that sh*t storm. What was the problem you say? The writing. Christiana Aguilera was better than I would have thought, Cher was Cher, the dancing was fun, as were the costumes. The story was a blatant rip off of Coyote Ugly, which says it all. The lines were so predictable and ridiculous. I cringed through most of it. I see Diablo Cody, of Juno fame, was the writer. Well, that did it for me. I hated Juno, and still don't understand all of love that movie gets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone whose career gets destroyed because of this movie deserves what they get, because they read that crap of a script and STILL decided to do it. Maybe that's too harsh. Maybe I'm too sensitive because I love the art of burlesque, and to see it paired with such a crap story personally insults me. Or maybe it was just really bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, it was just Showgirls without the nudity and a long lost sitcom star. The best part was watching the cars drive away half way through the film.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-5077060225471801712?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/5077060225471801712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=5077060225471801712' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5077060225471801712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/5077060225471801712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/01/burlesque-wow.html' title='Burlesque. Wow.'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6956932916014920659</id><published>2011-01-03T18:49:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:41:24.862-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Home from the Holidays</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TSJ-BZSxV7I/AAAAAAAAAME/mZ-egJncWxg/s1600/290.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TSJ-BZSxV7I/AAAAAAAAAME/mZ-egJncWxg/s320/290.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558143452563199922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fireworks on New Years Eve, doesn't husband look amazed? :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home from the holidays. It was excellent to be with family and friends, but good to come home. Not excellent, but good. Perhaps it would have been better if the cats had not opened up the freezer at some point, forcing everything in both the freezer and refrigerator to defrost. Fun! Anyway, so we're back home and actually, it's less good and more a bit lame. I miss my family and friends and craft days and rushing to buy presents. I'm always a bit let down after the holidays, but it's worse this year. But we're happy and healthy and I intend to make 2011 fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting with New Year's Resolutions. Everyone hates them. I started one early though, mid December, and am now bearing the fruit of my labor. I quit biting my nails! Now they aren't that long yet, but long enough to polish and to accidentally scratch the crap out of my back in the shower, so that's something! I actually spent $9 on a bottle of nail polish today. I'm incredibly frugal usually, so this was definitely out of character. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow the decorations come down I suppose. Isn't that the worst?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6956932916014920659?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6956932916014920659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6956932916014920659' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6956932916014920659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6956932916014920659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2011/01/home-from-holidays.html' title='Home from the Holidays'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TSJ-BZSxV7I/AAAAAAAAAME/mZ-egJncWxg/s72-c/290.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1383788668719956565.post-6128349581829015325</id><published>2010-12-27T21:38:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T21:41:40.824-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='facebook'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>When we did we all grow up?</title><content type='html'>Hope you all have a lovely Christmas! Husband and I are back home in Louisiana. Christmas Eve we spent with my inlaws, then the annual "crew from high school party" that night, then Christmas day with my family. It was all super great, except that we are both now sick. Husband NEVER gets sick, so this is really not good at all. Hopefully by tomorrow we'll both start to feel 100% so that the rest of the week can be salvaged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TRlngseRnOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/nwHuOKGX5ZU/s1600/IMG_1210.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TRlngseRnOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/nwHuOKGX5ZU/s320/IMG_1210.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555585426729835746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were able to take a drive out to Chicot State Park, a place we camped out at lots over the last few years. I miss it. I miss planning camping trips there with friends. I miss nature. We should find a place to camp around Houston soon. Could be great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also went by this other lake, Crooked Creek, that my parents took my sister and I to like twice a month every summer for years. To this day, when I drink ginger ale, I'm reminded of our trips to Crooked Creek, since ginger ale was my favorite soda to have there. Everything looked so small. Even my parents said that, so I guess it doesn't have anything to do with being a kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TRn250VVDSI/AAAAAAAAAL8/cuv5e6xhkqs/s1600/highschool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TRn250VVDSI/AAAAAAAAAL8/cuv5e6xhkqs/s320/highschool.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555743088499297570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me in the sunglasses, circa 1999. Several people in this photo will probably never want to speak to me again lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw lots of old friends Friday night, people who were so much of my life, were absolutely everything to me. Of course we're all still friends, but things shift. It's strange how we all grow up and all of a sudden we are sitting around a table talking about home insurance instead of who is sleeping with who. Things that seemed important when we were kids are silly now. But things that were silly still are. While it was great to catch up and laugh and "cap on one another" (oh, the '90's slang), it makes you realize that you really can't go home again. There's a line you cross into adulthood, whether it be a certain job, marriage, kids, another city, or just age, and you can't step behind it again. And that's ok. But it's nice, for just a night, to remember what it was like when your late 20's/early 30's were as fictional as a fairy tale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me, how were your holidays?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1383788668719956565-6128349581829015325?l=www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/feeds/6128349581829015325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1383788668719956565&amp;postID=6128349581829015325' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6128349581829015325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1383788668719956565/posts/default/6128349581829015325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.unlikelyoilfieldwife.com/2010/12/when-we-did-we-all-grow-up.html' title='When we did we all grow up?'/><author><name>Unlikely Oilfield Wife</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02339868851944310580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--WVQA4mJUmY/TlE1-IbTrvI/AAAAAAAAAYI/X8Bs4BZeqU0/s220/017.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3C3rH9GeyG0/TRlngseRnOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/nwHuOKGX5ZU/s72-c/IMG_1210.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
