<?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-3271589242122312232</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:22:08.054-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Writersoup</title><subtitle type='html'>FUEL FOR THE MIND.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>88</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4300858676557240559</id><published>2011-12-18T09:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T09:08:59.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's roundup time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ngSaQj_O7tk/Tu4W_vnhFFI/AAAAAAAAAKo/oizEHyErjM8/s1600/IMG_0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ngSaQj_O7tk/Tu4W_vnhFFI/AAAAAAAAAKo/oizEHyErjM8/s320/IMG_0329.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Roundup time is one of my favorite times of the year. Not only is the weather usually perfect, with cool temperatures, but the ranch is a perfect setting for working the animals and having fun at the same time. The corrals are near the river where the kids can fish and swim and the ranch is far enough away from home that we have an excuse to set up tents and act like were in the wilderness on a camping trip. This year started out terrible with no rain but the monsoon season was great so it ended on a positive note. We worked over six hundred animals, so for me it was much more work then spending time with the kids, but it was great. Next year we expect over eight hundred animals. Due to the size of the ranch, the roundup took about ten days with nine hired cowboys. Over all, we had a blast, especially the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; I just had a brain fart and to change the subject here, I noticed that most of the bloggers (including me) who used to blog nearly every other day, have slowed down to posting once a month or longer. What's up with that Lafe? (speaking to myself)&lt;br /&gt;I have a fb page and a webpage and this blog to upkeep so I have an excuse...hmm...not!&lt;br /&gt;I also noticed that all of my blogging friends no longer visit my blog, waaaah, boohoo, poor me. As you can tell I'm feeling sorry for myself even though I know it's 100% my fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Now for some fuel for the mind. If you want humor. If you want to laugh out loud. If you want some serious comedy. If you want a peek into the innocent minds of children, then you must read my book Kids Who Tell It Like It Is. You wont be disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that my friends, is &amp;nbsp;a little fuel for the mind. Good day folks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4300858676557240559?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4300858676557240559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4300858676557240559&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4300858676557240559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4300858676557240559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-roundup-time.html' title='It&apos;s roundup time!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ngSaQj_O7tk/Tu4W_vnhFFI/AAAAAAAAAKo/oizEHyErjM8/s72-c/IMG_0329.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2751055165273066535</id><published>2011-11-19T21:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T21:39:49.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Harvest.</title><content type='html'>This week I will finally be done harvesting and thrashing my chiltepin peppers. Now, since it is a new venture, I need to find some buyers. Last year at the pecan convention there was a buyer from China asking about chiltepin, so I figure to try and contact him somehow. Chiltepin is the second most expensive spice in the world today and is apparently in high demand so I shouldn't have a problem....fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocn_VZAN0tk/TsiPINp44QI/AAAAAAAAAKI/YTvzw8BTFMs/s1600/IMG_0176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocn_VZAN0tk/TsiPINp44QI/AAAAAAAAAKI/YTvzw8BTFMs/s320/IMG_0176.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Here is a pic of some chiltepin drying on my front porch;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, THANKSGIVING is right around the corner. It's our biggest celebration of the year. Only this time it's not going to be the same:-(( &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;At least half of the normal family and friends can't make it this year, so needless to say, our normal huge thanksgiving bash will be simmered down to a small party...boohoo.&lt;br /&gt;There will still be the big dinner and lots of outdoor sports. We're still having the dance and talent show, but no carnival or quad ride:-(&lt;br /&gt;After the holiday weekend it's off to the ranch for roundup time! Everyone is welcome so bring food, tents, fishing poles, camping gear, cameras, sombreros. I'll supply the horses, saddles and rodeo entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how time goes by so fast. It seems like only last week we were celebrating thanksgiving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2751055165273066535?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2751055165273066535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2751055165273066535&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2751055165273066535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2751055165273066535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/11/harvest.html' title='The Harvest.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocn_VZAN0tk/TsiPINp44QI/AAAAAAAAAKI/YTvzw8BTFMs/s72-c/IMG_0176.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3947090804875419138</id><published>2011-11-17T17:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T17:54:15.201-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My book is finally published, hooray!</title><content type='html'>My first book, Kids Who Tell It Like It Is has been published and is available on all digital ebooks at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes Noble.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;This book presents more than two hundred humorous situations from the family of author Lafe Langford and from families around the globe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;This honest work will tickle your funny bone by opening your eyes to the bright, beautiful and often hilarious views of a child. Here is the link.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.smashwords.com%2Fbooks%2Fview%2F105913&amp;amp;h=2AQEF30DwAQHsO7x6bf6NQQTWquswnFRy4wPPB9Hdn8wYxQ"&gt;Kids Who Tell It Like It Is, an Ebook by Lafe Langford&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qM5bpQeQyH0/TsW6s7EXp-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/j4Wnw4_FW94/s1600/307169_2258737160218_1602062770_32186564_379940005_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qM5bpQeQyH0/TsW6s7EXp-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/j4Wnw4_FW94/s320/307169_2258737160218_1602062770_32186564_379940005_n.jpg" width="225" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;form action="http://www.facebook.com/ajax/ufi/modify.php" method="post" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lafelangford.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/safe_image.php_.jpeg" style="color: #0b6492; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lafelangford.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/safe_image.php_.jpeg" style="color: #0b6492; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lafelangford.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/safe_image.php_.jpeg" style="color: #0b6492; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lafelangford.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/safe_image.php_.jpeg" style="color: #0b6492; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3947090804875419138?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3947090804875419138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3947090804875419138&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3947090804875419138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3947090804875419138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-book-is-finally-published-hooray.html' title='My book is finally published, hooray!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qM5bpQeQyH0/TsW6s7EXp-I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/j4Wnw4_FW94/s72-c/307169_2258737160218_1602062770_32186564_379940005_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-438332636165366012</id><published>2011-11-07T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T20:40:22.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2012...Is the Year of Crisis!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;2012...Remember that date folks. Because that's the year it's all going down, down, down. There will be a worldwide economic collapse starting with the good o'l USA. This address will take you to a video that will shock you and also warn you of the coming crisis it 2012. Just type it in your address bar and prepare to be amazed. This same economist predicted correctly the last crisis in 08.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Bitstream Charter', serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;"&gt;&lt;strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"&gt;www.AftershockNow.com&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-438332636165366012?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/438332636165366012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=438332636165366012&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/438332636165366012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/438332636165366012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/11/2012is-year-of-crisis.html' title='2012...Is the Year of Crisis!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2508757665043976070</id><published>2011-11-01T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T06:28:45.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is my favorite time of the year, harvest season. Besides the fall colors and the cool haunting winds, it's harvest time! For the last two weeks I've been harvesting my crop of Chiltepins. For those of you who don't know what a chiltepin is I will post a picture of them here. Chiltepin are called the "Mother of all Chile" they are a small round and very hot chile pepper about the size of a pea. They grow in the wild only and are native to Texas and northern Sonora Mexico. For the last couple years, a cousin has grown a small patch of chiltepin successfully, so this year I decided to try my luck at it. I bought seed at about forty dollars a pound and planted fifty thousand plants in between my pomegranate trees. The crop did exceptionally well and as of today, I will finish harvesting them. I have them all out on large plastic tarps drying right now. Online, they are the second most expensive spice on the planet, which is good for us I guess. The chiltepin is not a very popular chile, but it is up and coming and soon to be in great demand as even buyers from China are over here trying to buy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G_IeOL5h6XE/Tq_yjXrWaLI/AAAAAAAAAJg/L6gckY051KU/s1600/IMG_0155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G_IeOL5h6XE/Tq_yjXrWaLI/AAAAAAAAAJg/L6gckY051KU/s320/IMG_0155.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5kXHNxbGq00/Tq_y_LqAvdI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Edkd_1udOqM/s1600/IMG_0145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5kXHNxbGq00/Tq_y_LqAvdI/AAAAAAAAAJo/Edkd_1udOqM/s320/IMG_0145.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Last winter a record frost killed all the wild harvest, so this year we expect the price to soar even much higher than it is now.&lt;br /&gt;Have a wonderful year folks.&lt;br /&gt;Just more fuel for the mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2508757665043976070?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2508757665043976070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2508757665043976070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2508757665043976070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2508757665043976070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-is-my-favorite-time-of-year.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G_IeOL5h6XE/Tq_yjXrWaLI/AAAAAAAAAJg/L6gckY051KU/s72-c/IMG_0155.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-504059383615731462</id><published>2011-10-02T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T11:43:11.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S2sjSRnQlOE/ToitFSNebQI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/tY2NTtiJulU/s1600/DSC_0191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S2sjSRnQlOE/ToitFSNebQI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/tY2NTtiJulU/s320/DSC_0191.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Out of EIGHT daughters, my third daughter Michelle will be the first to get married. Her wedding will be here at our place on the 8th of October 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; I have been asked several times now by family members, "How does it feel to be losing a daughter" or "Are you feeling sentimental now that your daughter is leaving" or "is it sad to have to give your daughter away?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I just figure it's all part of life. You grow up, get married, have kids. They grow up, get married, have kids. Come on folks, it's the circle of life, there's nothing sad about it, that's what life is all about, it's a joyous occasion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; So let's jump over that stick, eat some barbecue and celebrate;-) &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-504059383615731462?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/504059383615731462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=504059383615731462&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/504059383615731462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/504059383615731462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/10/of-eight-daughters-my-third-daughter.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S2sjSRnQlOE/ToitFSNebQI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/tY2NTtiJulU/s72-c/DSC_0191.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8684627007546704552</id><published>2011-09-10T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T11:43:11.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts for Reflection</title><content type='html'>What is life all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it about focusing your entire life on climbing the ladder of success and wealth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it about spending all your time and energy seeking fame and worldly praise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is life one continuous party?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it all about sports and your favorite sports heros?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are any of the above, virtuous, or admirable qualities?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name one person who successfully achieved the above and died, or is still living for that matter, a happy and fulfilled person, surrounded with true friends and a loving family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A big problem with relentlessly seeking wealth is, (1) You inevitably step and grind on others to achieve your goals. (2) You invariably neglect your family and friends. (3) You are stressed out and unhappy, unless you are sleeping;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem with a continuous party is, (1) You normally acquire some very bad and addictive habits. You never seem fulfilled in life and you never can seem to make ends meet. And much more won't mention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The downside of being a sports fan is (1) You are worshipping idols, which is forbidden in the Bible. (2) Once again, you neglect your family in favor of playing sports, or watching your favorite sports heros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After years of seeking some of these "virtues" I have come to the conclusion that life is (1) Not about the above, but about family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;(2) It's about being content with what you have and seeking joy and happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To really find true joy and true friends, one must give of his means and of himself. That is the fundamental example Christ gave in his lifetime on earth. He gave of himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that my friends, is fuel for the mind.&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight.&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/3271589242122312232-8684627007546704552?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8684627007546704552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8684627007546704552&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8684627007546704552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8684627007546704552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/09/thoughts-for-reflection.html' title='Thoughts for Reflection'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-657059770225469693</id><published>2011-07-16T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T20:32:00.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The US government should outlaw golf clubs. They darn near killed my kid!:)</title><content type='html'>My son Timothy, age nine, was playing golf with his best friend Andre&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;yesterday and it turned into a disaster! They were taking turns hitting the ball when Andre swung and missed. Here comes Tim to take his turn when Andre swings again and hits Tim point blank smack in the face, knocking two front teeth completely out of his mouth and one other shoved back into his mouth. I was at the ranch and came home to find my wife ready and waiting to leave for the state capitol Hermosillo five hours away where our dentist lives.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;We could only find one tooth, thankfully it was the front one. We put it in a special solution on ice and were sitting at the dentist office five hours later. Tim had to have surgery but the tooth was replanted and he is now doing fine....minus one tooth:( The dentist said when Tim is fifteen, he can get braces and close the gap of the missing tooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-984OHVRj0hQ/TiJXfauwaGI/AAAAAAAAAJM/uKkWVXI-9hA/s1600/284654_229839973713321_100000619615105_775677_2656475_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-984OHVRj0hQ/TiJXfauwaGI/AAAAAAAAAJM/uKkWVXI-9hA/s320/284654_229839973713321_100000619615105_775677_2656475_n.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The bill.....$1000.00 &amp;nbsp; in the States it would have been five-six grand so can't complain I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-657059770225469693?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/657059770225469693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=657059770225469693&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/657059770225469693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/657059770225469693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/07/us-government-should-outlaw-golf-clubs.html' title='The US government should outlaw golf clubs. They darn near killed my kid!:)'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-984OHVRj0hQ/TiJXfauwaGI/AAAAAAAAAJM/uKkWVXI-9hA/s72-c/284654_229839973713321_100000619615105_775677_2656475_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3154180757534584881</id><published>2011-06-30T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T22:15:54.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My new webpage.</title><content type='html'>http://wp.me/1tOJM &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Here it the link to my new webpage I'm setting up. Come on over and check it out. &amp;nbsp;Just copy and paste in your address bar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3154180757534584881?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3154180757534584881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3154180757534584881&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3154180757534584881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3154180757534584881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-new-webpage.html' title='My new webpage.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3144482761591445047</id><published>2011-06-26T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T10:27:34.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Plenty of wild life lurking on the ranch.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nbycKlj45dk/TgdoAS1LJnI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Zp3Wb1cP76A/s1600/MDGC0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nbycKlj45dk/TgdoAS1LJnI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Zp3Wb1cP76A/s320/MDGC0096.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; We caught this bad boy on the game camera the other day. Didn't know we had bears on the ranch, but proof is in the picture, wow. We have several game cameras set up in various locations and have caught pictures of many different varieties of animals like, deer, mountain lion, bobcat, lemurs, turkey, bear, coyote, wild pig,&amp;nbsp;raccoon and of course our cows. We also have two pics of an extremely rare animal who's name I can't mention for fear of reprisal from the EPA, but believe me, there are only one or two of these animals known to be living in the USA.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;At this time, northern Mexico and southern USA is going through one of the worst droughts in history. Just talked to a neighbor rancher the other day and he said he is losing two or three cows a day to heatstroke! So far we have been blessed to have only lost about five cows. But more hot weather is to come before the rains arrive...if they ever do. Pray for rain folks. I know in most other parts of the country they are getting too much rain so I guess we can't complain too much. A twenty five year drought is way long enough though, let's get back to normal please...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3144482761591445047?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3144482761591445047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3144482761591445047&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3144482761591445047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3144482761591445047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/06/plenty-of-wild-life-lurking-on-ranch.html' title='Plenty of wild life lurking on the ranch.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nbycKlj45dk/TgdoAS1LJnI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Zp3Wb1cP76A/s72-c/MDGC0096.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8662116485787500520</id><published>2011-06-20T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T17:13:20.911-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Internet at last!</title><content type='html'>After months and months of absence, I have finally got satellite internet installed...woot woot!&lt;br /&gt;A lot has happened since I fell off the planet, but for now let's just be happy I'm back;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm busy reading Jaime Buckley's book called Wanted Hero and when I get done I'll post my review of it. Meanwhile my book, Kids Who Tell It Like It Is, is getting much closer to being published, so I'll cross my fingers there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8662116485787500520?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8662116485787500520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8662116485787500520&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8662116485787500520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8662116485787500520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/06/internet-at-last.html' title='Internet at last!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-9168511460474683946</id><published>2011-03-31T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T14:03:06.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation with TEN kids...</title><content type='html'>Decided to go visit my oldest daughter in Salt Lake City so we put the camper on the truck and loaded up the family and headed north. Just about an hour out of Phoenix the truck decided it didn't want to run anymore and just lost all power, coming to a stop on the side of the road. I turned it off and we sat in silence a few minutes contemplating on what to do next. Finally I turned the key on and it started back up but was running quite rough. We turned around and headed back towards Phoenix but Taylor convinced me to turn back around and try to stretch our luck. Well, we hobbled into Vegas with the truck way under powered but still running. I drove down the strip to show the kids all the billion dollar casinos and my old stomping grounds. They were shock-ed and amazed. By now it was about two in the morning and we decided to keep on trucking. Four hours later in Cedar City the truck flat out died but I managed to coast into a Auto Zone. Here I bought a new fuel filter and changed it. This helped out a little and the truck started back up but still was running on only four or five cylinders. We pulled into Salt Lake and the next day I took it down to the Ford dealer. Walking into the service department a service tech came up and said, "How can I help you sir?" I said, "I'm looking for someone I can bribe," Motioning with his hand toward his cubicle, he said, "Come right this way sir." We went in and he shut the door. "So what do you need," he asked. "Basically, I bought the worst truck Ford ever made and I"m sick of dumping money into it and I'm just wondering if you could run this through the service department on someone else's warranty or something like that," I said with a smirk. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Weeeeell, if the truck was a few years newer I could help you but ever since this depression, Ford has put the screws to all the dealers and won't allow us to do any warranty work without proof. But...I can line you up with a mechanic that works really cheap." So he calls over a mechanic and we walk outside to discuss it. He proceeds to tell me he can work on his own time at the dealer and use all their tools and get Ford parts under wholesale prices and that he would charge me thirty bucks an hour instead of one hundred &amp;nbsp;ten bucks that the dealer charges. I said "Go for it," and he had it fixed and done the next day for twelve hundred bucks instead of three grand the dealer would have charged. Four injectors were shot, plus the fuel pump. Believe me, while there I was mighty tempted to trade my rig in on a new 2011 gas model. Folks take a lesson from this. Don't ever buy a diesel truck unless you are going to use it for what it was made for......towing large loads. First of all diesels are 8 grand more then gas pickups and all diesel parts are way more expensive and diesel fuel is now 50 cents a gal more then gas! So, if your are going to make money with your pickup, then by all means buy a new Ford diesel (not chevy or dodge..heh) and and giv'er ell man.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Now with that all behind us we've been here for a over a week. Of course the weather was terrible during the whole week with snow, snow, snow. The Wasatch &amp;nbsp;Mountain now have a record amount of snow totaling fifty feet deep! Should have went skiing but we didn't. Maybe next time.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Today is the first beautiful day with great temperatures and full sun shining down on us, and we're LEAVING! waaaaaaaah.......&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; One very positive thing happened while here was I meet with a friend who is going to build me a website and help publish my book. FINALLY, hooray!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-9168511460474683946?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/9168511460474683946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=9168511460474683946&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/9168511460474683946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/9168511460474683946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/03/vacation-with-ten-kids.html' title='Vacation with TEN kids...'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1101316711946099018</id><published>2011-03-19T22:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T22:48:39.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Borrowing from Mom's house :(</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I know it definitely looks like I fell off the edge of the planet, but I"M BACK! for at least a post or two. I decided to take advantage of my dear Mother's Internet for now. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; A lot has happened since I last posted so I'll try and catch up a little here. I have been very busy with my orchard and ranch. We have had only about 2 inches of rain since Jan of 2010! Unbelievably dry. We normally get about 16 inches a year. The July-August monsoon season didn't rain at all, neither did it rain&amp;nbsp;with the Dec-Jan winter rainy season. So, the river didn't even get muddy, much less flood.&amp;nbsp;And now,&amp;nbsp;with the dry weather,&amp;nbsp;the cattle are starting to show it. We have been moving them around the ranch, mainly down in the river area. So far this season we've had over 120 calves born, so at least&amp;nbsp;that's going good. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; To make matters worse we had a cold spell a month or so back and it got down to 11 degrees! That is the coldest temperature ever recorded here, and what a disaster it made. I lost over 1200 pomegranate trees! My brother Aaron lost as many or more. It froze all the vegetable crops in northern Mexico and prices have doubled already.&amp;nbsp;The normal coldest temp here is about 25 degrees. I have to say, the weather is going&amp;nbsp;NUTS. I&amp;nbsp;know it sounds like&amp;nbsp;I'm complaining but I'm not.&amp;nbsp;When I see what's happening&amp;nbsp;in Japan I count my blessings and&amp;nbsp;pray for them, wow it is sad.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I want to give my condolences to my good friend Thomas in Dallas who just had another relative killed in the violence in Juarez Mexico. That is so, so sad and it makes my blood boil when I think of the dastardly murderers who kill to get gain. They are sick bastards! I'm sorry for your loss, my friend. May God bless the family of the innocent victim. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Good night all.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1101316711946099018?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1101316711946099018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1101316711946099018&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1101316711946099018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1101316711946099018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2011/03/borrowing-from-moms-house.html' title='Borrowing from Mom&apos;s house :('/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5539267756729167219</id><published>2010-10-30T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T20:13:07.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BLAST! I have no internet access.</title><content type='html'>Sorry folks, my internet has been down now for more than two months!!!!!! But hope to have it up soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5539267756729167219?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5539267756729167219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5539267756729167219&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5539267756729167219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5539267756729167219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/10/blast-i-have-no-internet-access.html' title='BLAST! I have no internet access.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7988353662662823187</id><published>2010-08-29T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T10:15:00.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home at last!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; News Alert! I'm HOOOOOME!!!!!!! After twenty nine hours of driving, most of it across Texas, I arrived home safe and....well sound I think. The drive over the mountains into our valley was spectacular. Large thunderstorms were showering rain and lightning up and down the valley as I drove down into it. And best of all, the desert smell after a rainstorm.......WOW, nothing else like it! After resting up for a day with the family, I had to check on my pomegranate&amp;nbsp;orchard to see how it was doing. Also drove down to the ranch on quads to check on the cattle. Everything looked good and it's great to be home again, thank the&amp;nbsp;Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Before I&amp;nbsp;left Baton Rouge, the boys took me out deep sea fishing in the&amp;nbsp;gulf and we had a swell time catching over fifty speckled&amp;nbsp;trout with a few mackerel and red snapper. What&amp;nbsp;was so interesting was watching the sharks try and eat our fish as we reeled them it. Several times when we had a fish&amp;nbsp;on the line a large eight or nine foot shark would leap out of the&amp;nbsp;water and gulp down our fish&amp;nbsp;then disappear below the surface&amp;nbsp;dragging the line until it broke. It&amp;nbsp;was exhilarating for sure. Sometimes as we desperately reeled in a fish, a shark fin would suddenly break surface and follow it and then disappear for a few moments until suddenly our pole would almost break and the line would snap as the mighty&amp;nbsp;beast stole our catch. The movie JAWS surly&amp;nbsp;came to mind each time this happened. I was beginning to wonder if one wasn't going to jump up and bite our small boat in half....! We were in a small twenty-three foot fishing boat and probably would have made a tasty snack for one of them great whites. &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Still haven't finished either of my books but hope to be done soon. I'm still collecting funny sayings from the mouths of children, so if anyone wants to share them with me I would love to put them in print. Trying to get at least two hundred pages. So far I'm at one hundred and fifty, so we're getting close. Children sure are a riot. I still get a good laugh from reading through it time and time again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; On a different note, the State legislator just passed a law prohibiting texting while driving. Ok so I know they don't have anything better to do than pass absurd laws to "protect" us helpless sheeple but when are they going to get the drift? How much money do they need? If you are caught texting, its a one hundred-seventy five dollar fine! OK, so what about putting makeup on while driving? Or, hollering at your kids while driving? Eating while driving? Talking to your passengers while driving. I sincerely think they just need to put a auto camera on every corner and in every car that gives you a ticket if you fart louder than fifteen decibels! Or if you scratch your butt&amp;nbsp;while driving, or walking for that matter. Actually, I have a better idea, so you scoundrel politicians take note. Why not make it simple and pass a law that forces everyone who works and is productive, to just bring their paychecks and credit and give it to the "all-knowing and mighty" government and then get on welfare and live like the rest of the unproductive world? That would solve all our problems, since you know what's best for us dumb brutes. I wouldn't be surprised if the likes of Nutsy Peeusky and Hillbilly Clinton are already considering this&amp;nbsp;world problem solving idea. Wake up America and kick them in the ass out of office!&lt;br /&gt;Now that my friends, is fuel for the mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: yellow;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;Have a great day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7988353662662823187?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7988353662662823187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7988353662662823187&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7988353662662823187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7988353662662823187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/08/home-at-last.html' title='Home at last!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5893738760150949888</id><published>2010-08-14T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T21:23:37.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slavery</title><content type='html'>Wow! I can't believe it has been almost two months since I last blogged....wow again! Ever since I arrived here in Baton Rouge it has been pure slavery from dawn till dark every day. I get home to my son's house and am so tired I normally go strait to the shower and bed. But&amp;nbsp;hooray folks, I'm almost finished with the house I built. Just lack to install windows and doors and I'm outta here! It was a huge two million dollar home on a nice river and I'll get some pics up soon for all to see. When I left my home I didn't realize there are places on this world where you have to have an AC unit mounted on your back at all times or you'll melt right where you stand....oly cow it is hot and humid here!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;So much has happened in the last two months it seems I just lost track of time and space. I'll try and keep up from now on but can't make any promises with all that's going on in my life. A few days ago on the job I dropped the sawzall off a wall and it bounced off the ladder and hit my leg and ripped a huge two inch long gash in it. I had to run down to the drugstore and buy some butterfly bandages to pull the gapping wound back together so it would heal. A few days later I was sawing a board when it slipped out of my sweating hands and of course slid down my leg, tearing the bandage off and ripping my poor wound wide open again....arrrrrg! If any of you heard some awful foul language echoing off the mountains or city walls that day, sorry it was me for sure. Now I'm going to sport a huge scar on my leg for the rest of my life...wah. It'll just add to the many other ones I have so no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;Hope all is well with everyone. May God bless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5893738760150949888?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5893738760150949888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5893738760150949888&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5893738760150949888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5893738760150949888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/08/slavery.html' title='Slavery'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2281229914612222587</id><published>2010-06-20T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T19:56:27.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Father's day to all you dads out there.</title><content type='html'>I was expecting a thumbs down father's day today since I'm a thousand miles away from the lovin' wife and family, but my boys surprised me this morn with a $220 pair of Ecco shoes and a $400 benchmade Infidel auto knife...wow! The girls bought me a wallet, belt, shirt, candy...mmm! Little Tim's bought me a "cool laser flashlight, huh dad." After the presents were opened we all piled in the truck and headed down to New Orleans to The Aquarium and spent the day there, it was fun. Got to see the world famous white alligator. After that, I was starved so we headed back to all you can eat crab legs...mmm! I also got a happy father's day call from the best part of me, (my wife) and all the kids back home. It turned out great after all and I'm a happy camper with my new Benchmade toy, I can't stop switching the blade in and out!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Hope you all have wonderful family and friends and enjoyed a happy fathers day. Wish you nothing but the best in life.&lt;br /&gt;Now that my friends, is fuel for the mi....well fuel for me anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2281229914612222587?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2281229914612222587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2281229914612222587&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2281229914612222587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2281229914612222587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/06/happy-fathers-day-to-all-you-dads-out.html' title='Happy Father&apos;s day to all you dads out there.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-66487269319533104</id><published>2010-06-04T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T21:19:39.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Baton Rouge for a while</title><content type='html'>My son called from Baton Rouge and wanted me to come help him build a couple of big homes.One&amp;nbsp;of&amp;nbsp;these&amp;nbsp;is over 11,000 sq ft! So, I headed east and drove straight through all night and day reaching my destination 24 hours later. I've driven this route many times but every time I'm amazed at how big the state of Texas is. Exactly 880 miles from one end to the other! Wow, what a long drive. Another thing&amp;nbsp;I'm amazed at is the difference in&amp;nbsp;drivers. In&amp;nbsp;Louisiana, the people are actually somewhat courteous.&amp;nbsp;For instance, when pulling out of a shopping center&amp;nbsp;into traffic&amp;nbsp;usually the first car&amp;nbsp;will&amp;nbsp;always let you in. In&amp;nbsp;California....no way! In Arizona....not a chance,&amp;nbsp;you have to wait&amp;nbsp;until there are no cars&amp;nbsp;coming.&amp;nbsp;If you try and squeeze in real quick, you'll get a loud blast on the horn and the middle finger.&amp;nbsp;You have to be real careful in those States because it could easily turn into road rage and you could get shot in the head. Which reminds me. I was cruising down&amp;nbsp;Interstate 15&amp;nbsp;in&amp;nbsp;California&amp;nbsp;a while back, and obviously wasn't paying too much attention because&amp;nbsp;before I knew it, I had to merge into the&amp;nbsp;right lane. Well, I checked the mirror and there was a car coming up behind me but I still had time, and room&amp;nbsp;to squeeze in, so I&amp;nbsp;flipped the blinker on and started to turn in. Well, this dude behind me wasn't about to let that happen&amp;nbsp;and he romped on the accelerator and&amp;nbsp;shot up beside me, forcing me to whip back into my lane which was quickly nearing it's end.&amp;nbsp;This forced me to actually hit the brakes&amp;nbsp;hard and run off the freeway for a few&amp;nbsp;seconds before I could&amp;nbsp;get&amp;nbsp;back in&amp;nbsp;behind this creep. Of course without thinking my middle finger went up and out my window at this asshole&amp;nbsp;and he didn't like it at all. He slammed on his brakes, swerving his car back and forth in front of me flipping me off and shouting&amp;nbsp;obscenities at me forcing me to nearly rear-end the jackass. I quickly flipped out my&amp;nbsp;cell phone and acted like I was calling the police to which he did the same, waving&amp;nbsp;his phone at me like "yeah I can&amp;nbsp;call the police too you &lt;a href="mailto:#@^$%"&gt;#@^$%&lt;/a&gt;." That is one time I really wish I had a cop on my tail to witness the arrogance of this prick.&amp;nbsp;I realized this was&amp;nbsp;one of those crazed road warrior barbarian lunatics that would use a gun if he had one, so I slowed way down and let him do his thing. I did call the CHP and they took down my complaint but who knows if they made anything of it. It just seems that nobody gives a damn about anyone but themselves anymore. Most everyone is in a freakish rush to get to where ever they are going and God damn anyone who gets in their way! What is this world coming too?&lt;br /&gt;Now that is fuel for the mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-66487269319533104?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/66487269319533104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=66487269319533104&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/66487269319533104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/66487269319533104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/06/in-baton-rouge-for-while.html' title='In Baton Rouge for a while'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2679166623092050572</id><published>2010-05-18T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T08:54:18.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids who tell it like it is. This is why we go to school.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S_K3zvq67iI/AAAAAAAAAIo/arstVVn47ws/s1600/180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S_K3zvq67iI/AAAAAAAAAIo/arstVVn47ws/s320/180.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-ignore: vglayout;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="left" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;Preston must have had insect genes in his blood because wherever he went or whatever he did, it had something to do with insects. Spiders, Walking Sticks, Praying Mantis, Scorpions, he loved them all. Today was his first day in school and of course he stuffed a few of his "friends" in his desk and made sure they were comfortable before paying attention to the task at hand. The teacher wanted all the students to write a small letter of introduction to the class to start the school year. Preston was excited to let everyone know what he liked best of all, so he penned this short sentence on a clean sheet of paper.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;"Hello, my name is Preston and I love &lt;i&gt;insex."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Arial Unicode MS&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Don’t know anyone who doesn’t.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="left" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2679166623092050572?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2679166623092050572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2679166623092050572&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2679166623092050572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2679166623092050572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/05/kids-who-tell-it-like-it-is-this-is-why.html' title='Kids who tell it like it is. This is why we go to school.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S_K3zvq67iI/AAAAAAAAAIo/arstVVn47ws/s72-c/180.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1103203396410594804</id><published>2010-05-08T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T15:54:49.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A stressful but blessed two weeks with number 14!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S-Xq5NCRQsI/AAAAAAAAAIc/5A6b5BtREvY/s1600/P1010052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S-Xq5NCRQsI/AAAAAAAAAIc/5A6b5BtREvY/s320/P1010052.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span id="goog_637110132"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="goog_637110133"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;On the 18th of April at about 11pm &amp;nbsp;my wife went into labor with our fourteenth child!&amp;nbsp;Before we married we were discussing how many children we wanted. She said she figured we'd have twelve kids and I countered with "Oh I think were gonna have fourteen like my mom." When we reached twelve she thought that would be the last &amp;nbsp;one but lo and behold, little&amp;nbsp;Angelina Kate came along and made thirteen. We thought for sure she would not have another child so you can imagine our surprise when four years later she became pregnant with number fourteen.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And now our midwife was telling us we needed to transport to a hospital because my wife was having complications. We quickly loaded up the&amp;nbsp;necessary supplies and headed to the nearest hospital two hours away. &amp;nbsp;Our midwife all along had told us the baby would be small, at about five to six pounds according to her&amp;nbsp;measurements. The doctor gave her a sono-gram and told us the baby was only three pounds and that we needed to be in a special hospital three hours further away. Here, another doctor examined the information given us by the previous doctor and concluded Norine needed to take a drug that would stop labor and allow the baby's brain to develop for at least five days. Norine refused and asked them to take their own sono-gram and they would see that the baby was not premature but full term. This upset them a little to question their authority but they finally did and found the baby to be four and a half pounds and that she needed an immediate&amp;nbsp;cesarean. All this time (two days) I was out in the waiting room on a hard seat biting my nails impatiently. But this was a womans only birthing hospital and no men were allowed in except during a two hour window each day. We had all of our babies naturally and my wife did not like the idea of a cesarean but she finally relented and they wheeled her into the operating room. The doctor then remembered to ask her when she had last eaten. "Just a little while ago," was the answer. "Well, we can't operate for another nine hours," said the doctor slightly upset.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My wife now had time to think about what was happening and she said a little prayer that if it was not meant to be that she had a cesarean, she would go into labor and have it naturally. Five minutes later, she started regular labor pains every five minutes. Now in the hospital she met a doctor who had lived with her cousin for three years in San Diego, so he was almost related to her! He was very helpful and went out of his way to see that she was comfortable. Five hours later, little Travis was born naturally and weighed in at five and a half pounds! Just to save face, the doctors still insisted he was premature. But our midwife had been right all along. The next morning in came the doctor who was to perform the cesarean quite upset. "Why didn't you have a cesarean, why didn't you?" she questioned angrily. "How many kids have you had?" asked Norine. "None," was the answer. "Well, I went into labor and I've had thirteen kids and I know what my body can do," said Norine.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;A day later, after x-rays and sono-grams, they gave the baby a clean bill of health and sent us home rejoicing. Five days later, little Travis started vomiting and started turning blue all over his body. This made the hair stand up on the back of our heads because this was the tell-tell sign that our daughter Amanda had when she needed major heart surgery. We headed to another hospital three hours away and the doc took an x-ray and said the heart was swelling and we needed to go see a heart specialist at once. We figured Salt Lake was our best bet since that is where Amanda had her operation, but Salt Lake was 19 hours away and the doctor didn't think we would make it. We drove straight through to Phoenix all night and by then our baby was having difficulty breathing even with oxygen, so we checked into emergency at Phoenix Children's Hospital. After an ultrasound,&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;Cardiologist&amp;nbsp;(Who just happened to be a relative. Small world huh?) showed us where in his aorta he had a growth or a narrowing that was preventing the blood from passing through to the lungs. He needed immediate surgery to cut out the section of vein and reattach it. Sitting on the chair watching as they prepared our little seven day old child for major surgery was heart wrenching. He was such a tiny helpless little man. It seemed impossible to be able to operate on such a little baby. He was crying as loud as his little lungs would allow as they inserted needles and tubes into his fragile body but soon was still and silent when the drugs took effect.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;We sat in the intensive care unit all alone in agony for two hours counting each minute until at last the doctor came in and told us the operation was&amp;nbsp;successful&amp;nbsp;and little Travis was doing fine and would be back with us shortly. Four days later Travis was released from the hospital and we headed home for recovery. It is incredible that a child can recover from heart surgery that fast. Needless to say, neither of us had any sleep in the last two weeks, but we felt very grateful to have our child with us still. During our stay many thoughts of&amp;nbsp;despair went through my mind but one day as I sat in the waiting room a large family came in heads bowed, all crying&amp;nbsp;uncontrollably. Their eight year old child had just died of a stomach infection. It was terribly sad to see and I thanked God that my child was still with us. It made me realize there is always someone in a much worse predicament and we should always be grateful and never complain.&lt;br /&gt;So my friends, this is why I haven't had time to post anything on my blog. It has been a very stressful two weeks for sure.&lt;br /&gt;And that my friends is fuel for the mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1103203396410594804?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1103203396410594804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1103203396410594804&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1103203396410594804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1103203396410594804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/05/stressful-but-blessed-two-weeks-with.html' title='A stressful but blessed two weeks with number 14!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S-Xq5NCRQsI/AAAAAAAAAIc/5A6b5BtREvY/s72-c/P1010052.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4672891248683464553</id><published>2010-04-24T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T18:43:10.084-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are guns dangerous? YUP!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Danny and I "borrowed" Dad's 22 pistol and hurried down to the river to see how many fish we could catch. Like ya right, we were going fishing. I guess if you call throwing cans in the river and shooting at them as they float by "fishing" then we weren't lying. Danny was in command and was plinking away at the cans as I threw them in. At last I decided Danny had shot his share of the bullets and it was now my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Gimmie the gun right now, it's my turn," I ordered trying to sound as bossy as I could.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"No, I'm older and I get to shoot more than you," smiled Danny with a look of superiority.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I'll tell Dad you took his gun without permission if you don't give it to me right now," I warned.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Go ahead big tattletale."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Hand it over right now!" I yelled reaching up to grab it from him. Then a struggle ensued with me trying to grab the gun away from him. You would think I would have learned something from the "knife hacking incident" several years back, but I guess not.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Knock it off &amp;nbsp;you idiot. Don't you know how dangerous it is to fight over a gun? It could go off and kill someone," he ordered as he lowered the gun. Then, "BAM" it &lt;i&gt;did&lt;/i&gt; go off for real! He had unintentionally pulled the trigger and fired the gun. His face immediately grimaced in pain and he started howling like a coyote at a full moon.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Ouch, damn it hurts!" he cried, "See what you've done. Now I'm probably going to die!"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I was in shear terror and white as a ghost. I followed him as he limped around, asking him where it had hit him and begging him not to tell Dad on me. Like for sure, Dad wasn't going to find out. His son had just shot himself and needed immediate medical attention and I wanted to keep it a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I think it went through the bone," groaned Danny staring down at his leg in agony. By now I was willing to do anything, but oh no, Danny had a good thing going here so he kept it up.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"It's all your fault you stupid kid. You shouldn't have been trying to grab it from me. Now I might not ever be able to walk again.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"What are we gonna do? We can't tell Dad, he will kill us," I said terrified of the future.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I don't know but you better let me lean on your shoulder and help me walk back home or I might bleed to death before we get to a hospital."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I immediately became a volunteer crutch and started walking slowly back home.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I don't see any blood or hole in your foot. Where did it hit you?" I said becoming a little suspicious.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Gosh, haven't you seen the movies? Sometimes it takes a little while before blood spurts out all over," he answered trying to hide his smile.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"You're lying, you didn't get hit. Take your shoe off and let me see your foot," I ordered.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"OK, help me sit down," he said dragging it out as long as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;He carefully untied his shoe and grimaced in false labor as he pulled it off. He then began thoroughly looking for a bloody hole, or a missing toe, or even a scratch. But he searched in vain. When I finally realized it had been a setup, he began rolling in the dirt laughing at me. I was&amp;nbsp;eying that sixshooter and getting ready to make a jump for it so I could show him what a real bullet felt like.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;After he had laughed himself sick, he sobered up and said, "No, serious though, I thought for a minute that I had shot my foot because it just went off accidentally. It must have been a close one cause it was aiming right at my it."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Well you almost gave me a heart attack you idiot," I said relieved at not being implicated in a murder.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Well, that'll teach ya not to be grabbing guns anymore now won't it?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I guess it did....for a while anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4672891248683464553?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4672891248683464553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4672891248683464553&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4672891248683464553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4672891248683464553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/04/are-guns-dangerous-yup.html' title='Are guns dangerous? YUP!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2263587497865696307</id><published>2010-04-16T08:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T08:29:58.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing with gunpowder!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Not very many kids in this world get to grow up in an environment like we did. The beautiful river running by our farm made it a paradise. We could go swimming, fishing or boating any time we wanted. We had the mountains all to ourselves for hunting and hiking and camping. Our parents owned a herd of horses for riding the many trails. We had homemade go-carts and motorbikes. You would think that with all this excitement we would be spending our free time at doing one of the above. But &amp;nbsp;oh no, we had better things to do. Like sneaking down to the hidden weapons cache and stealing a two gallon can of gunpowder. Now this wasn't your normal fine gunpowder. This was a special powder much more dangerous. We figured life wasn't exciting unless you &amp;nbsp;tempted the grim reaper once in a while. Or unless you put your life on the line for your buddies, yes sir. And since the&amp;nbsp;opportunity&amp;nbsp;to become a war hero didn't come around too often, we were forced to create the scenario ourselves. There were several us you young boys in this group as we hauled this two gallon can of gunpowder to where we thought no one could see us.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Let's take this and see how big a fire it makes," said Someone. Up until now I didn't know there was a kid named someone in the family.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"That sound like a great idea," said Someone else. That was Somebody's brother, I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Dump a little pile on the ground and light it so we can watch it burn," offered some other Einstein. So, the oldest one in the pack dumped a small pile on the ground and struck a match to it. We all jumped back and watched the fire shoot into the air.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Cool, like wow dude, do it again, only this time make a bigger pile!" Well, this time we ran for cover as the flames shot into the air.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Awesome dude, that's some sweet stuff. Let's make a bigger pile this time." It goes without saying that is what we did, only this time a lethal mistake was made. In his haste to get away from the flames the "fire-whisperer" left the can full of powder with the lid off, only a few feet away from the fire. Thus the fire from the "biggest" pile ignited the much larger can of powder.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;A huge explosion resounded throughout our valley as fire shot over two hundred feet into the air! A few seconds later after we had gathered our senses, and body parts, did we realize what had just happened. All of us....except one person of course....escaped the searing heat of the flames. Naturally it had to be the youngest innocent bystander, my brother David who was not even eight years old. Just as he had turned to run away, he tripped over a rock and down he went, face first into the ground. Before he could &amp;nbsp;think about getting up, fire was raining down from &amp;nbsp;heaven as we watched helplessly from a distance. He quickly jumped up and started running away as the smoking flames burned through his clothing. I shifted from shock into high gear and chased him down, slapping at the fire on his clothing and putting it out. At the shop a few hundred yards away, Uncle Paul and the rest of the world had heard the explosion and came running to see what in God's burnt earth had happened!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Mom started to cry when she saw her son, but she quickly pulled herself together and took charge. She started applying Aloe Vera leaves to the large blisters that were now forming on his back. This helped&amp;nbsp;tremendously but he was still in agony. The only solution was to lay him on his stomach on a plank with both arms in buckets of cold water while she softly soaked his back with a wet cloth. Once again, Dad was gone on a trip with the only vehicle in the family that could have taken him to the hospital several hours away. As usual there were no phones or means to communicate with the outside world, so we had to do the best we could, right there. All night long and a few days after that, Mom was by his side keeping a wet cloth on his burns to soothe the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; When Dad returned and saw his son lying there suffering, he was furious. I was the oldest of his sons at the "bomb making" incident, so he took his anger out on me in the form of a hard whipping which I deserved. I should have got my younger brothers and got the hell out of there, but I didn't, I was part of it. The next day I was pretty sore from that whipping but I'm sure it didn't compare to what David was going through. He eventually healed up just fine except for a few scars on his&amp;nbsp;elbows&amp;nbsp;and back. After that&amp;nbsp;catastrophe, we steered clear of gun powder for a long time, but one thing leads to the next and now instead of gunpowder, it would be guns! But we'll wait for the next post to tell you about that one.&lt;br /&gt;And that my friends, is fuel for the mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2263587497865696307?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2263587497865696307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2263587497865696307&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2263587497865696307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2263587497865696307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/04/playing-with-gunpowder.html' title='Playing with gunpowder!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2995322451193451477</id><published>2010-04-11T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T18:41:46.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joe gives the scammers hell. You rule Joe!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S8J51xsXrBI/AAAAAAAAAIM/VzNZuD3Jplw/s1600/kickassaward+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S8J51xsXrBI/AAAAAAAAAIM/VzNZuD3Jplw/s320/kickassaward+(1).jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Just got back from http://joe-capuano.blogspot.com/ Shadow of my life blog. He is downright hilarious! I'll bet those scammers are wetting their pants in anticipation of his complying with their stupid requests. I want to give Joe an award, he deserves it. So come on over an grab it. If you want a good laugh get on over to his blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2995322451193451477?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2995322451193451477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2995322451193451477&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2995322451193451477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2995322451193451477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/04/joe-gives-scammers-hell-you-rule-joe.html' title='Joe gives the scammers hell. You rule Joe!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S8J51xsXrBI/AAAAAAAAAIM/VzNZuD3Jplw/s72-c/kickassaward+(1).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7024079889528465929</id><published>2010-04-08T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T12:06:55.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just one of those average good 'ol days in my young life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;When I was about eight years old, we moved from Vegas out to our ranch in the isolated rocky mountains. We were very poor and for a few years we didn't even have the luxury of indoor plumbing. Upon arriving at the farm, Dad was broke. We had to make do with a "temporary" living quarters in the form of a big green army tent. Dad did improve on it a little by installing a real working door instead of a zipper flap and a couple of glass windows. Yet for quite some time, the most important thing which is a bathroom, was a luxury Dad couldn't afford. So, early in the morning when the urge to go is at its zenith, we young boys would wander outside rubbing our eyes like zombies. Then we'd all line up on the bank in the front yard and have a "see who can go the furthest" contest. I always wondered why those trees down below turned yellow and died. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Just imagine a half dozen young boys, some in their P-j's others just in their&amp;nbsp;skivvies, all lined up on the bank arcing nice streams down on those poor trees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Now the women folk weren't endowed with the same plumbing as us boys, so Dad solved this by building a nice outhouse for them. Now they had no reason to complain because this baby was a side-by-side double-crapper, that way there would be no waiting in line. The only problem with this beauty is it didn't afford central heating, so in the winter months when you went out in the middle of the night to "moon the rattlers" it was mighty cold. The women once again complained and Dad solved this by building some indoor pluming in the form of a plywood box with a hole in the top. Over that was a folding lid and underneath, a five gallon bucket. Dad graciously gave us young boys the honor of emptying it morning and evening and you can bet we weren't too happy about it. But at least the cold blooded people didn't have to go out into the freezing darkness to find the "dual-cesspool" anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In the summer months our temporary dwelling was like an oven and attracted all kinds of slimming creatures and pesky insects. There were tarantulas and black widow spiders; huge ten-inch centipedes and evil scorpions, gila monsters and diamondback rattle snakes. Of all these, the devilish little scorpion was by far the most annoying. The others pretty much minded their own business, but not that trouble seeking scorpion. He would purposely smell out a human 10000 times his size and launch a full scale barbed attack on him. I don't understand a scorpion's thinking. Why would they attack someone 10000 times their size? Do they think they're spartan warriors or something? Don't they know they will be instantly turned to pulverized meat and sent to hell or wherever they go when they die? I can just see me with a poison spear in my hand attacking a six-hundred foot giant. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;"A-ha, I gotcha you big bully!" I shout as I stab him in the big toe before being crushed into a mushy pulp. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Then as I head down to fire and&amp;nbsp;brimstone, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I wonder, "What in the hell did I do that for. Do I have a big ego problem or what?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;One of our extended family members, -and I won't mention names here- was calmly using the WC one afternoon. Now remember, we were quite poor at the time and good 'ol Charmin tissue was a scarce commodity. This unfortunate person had hid a nice wad of his own personal "crack-cleaner" so he wouldn't get caught in an uncomfortable situation. He was in a hurry to get to the river for some swimming so he grabbed a handful. As he did his duty with it, he felt the searing pain of that nasty scorpion's razor sharp spear. Three times it nailed him before it fell down into the stinking depths below. It was obviously upset at being used for cleaning purposes and once again attacked somebody a million times its size.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Well the scorpion's sting is like a rattler bite. It take some time before you feel the full heart-throbbing pain from the poison. At the river, we were having a grand old time dunking each other and doing belly-flops off the ledges. Suddenly the hollering of someone in pain caused everyone to stop their fun for a moment to see what the fuss was all about. Sure enough, Uncl...I mean the scorpion victim was rolling on the beach in pain. The poison had finally settled down and started doing its job, which is to make you as miserable as possible.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I'm sure after that harrowing ordeal, he learned a valuable lesson and that is to carefully inspect Mr. Charmin for hidden venomous insects before you clean yourself in such tender areas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7024079889528465929?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7024079889528465929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7024079889528465929&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7024079889528465929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7024079889528465929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/04/just-one-of-those-average-good-ol-days.html' title='Just one of those average good &apos;ol days in my young life.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3224508462638068051</id><published>2010-04-02T20:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T20:10:25.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abraham Lincoln; hero or villain. You decide.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; It all started with Dishonest Abe who orchestrated the murder of 600,000 + Americans to force us to have a strong central government that the founding fathers tried to avoid at all costs. And now we have a Muslim socialist making it much worse as fast as he can stroke that pen! The USA should now be called the USSA. United States of Socialist&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;America. The public school system has taught for years that dishonest Abe was a hero who worshiped God and saved the republic and freed the slaves. BUT that is NOT the truth. He never went to church in his life and he bordered on atheism. He did not save the republic in no way, but instead he declared marshal law and took away the sovereignty of the states and gave bankers the full power over the economy. He did not free the slaves. They were already being freed in the northern states and he was an avid slave owner. He could have freed the slaves in a peaceful manner like Briton did and France and Spain and Sweden and Denmark. But instead he used slavery as an excuse to murder his own people because they were exercising their constitutional rights of sovereignty to withdraw from the union because dishonest Abe had levied an unconstitutional tax against the poor southern states that they could not afford to pay. And worst of all...dishonest Abe forced ALL Americans into slavery by starting the most unjust, unconstitutional law ever forced on the american people....the IRS!!! He did this knowing full well that it would NEVER be rescinded. So all you who think Abe is a hero, throw your socialist history books in the trash and educate yourselves with true history......! Nowhere in the congressional law books or constitution can you find a written law or code giving the IRS the power to collect taxes from American people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In reality, the Lincoln Memorial is a temple to the idea that government in America is NOT voluntary, and never will be as long as Lincoln is its primary symbol and as long as Lincoln mythology remains the state's cornerstone ideology. Lincoln micromanaged the murder of thousands of Americans in order to prove his point that the central government is NOT voluntary, the states were NEVER sovereign (his own words) and that any group of citizens contemplating leaving it will be killed en masse, their cities burned to the ground, and their wealth confiscated by the US army!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;As a young man Lincoln wrote a book that argued that the Bible was NOT the word of God and that Jesus was NOT the son of God. When he decided to get into politics, he had the book burned. When Herndon was preparing his biography, he asked Mrs. Lincoln to comment on Abe's religious views and she told him that he never became a Christian. "Mr. Lincoln," she said, "had no faith, he never joined a church."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;And now we have a person in the White House who is also NOT a Christian and is&amp;nbsp;subtlety forcing socialism-marxism on the American&amp;nbsp;people. The health care bill is much more than just health care. On page 1001 is "Subtitle C- National Medical Device Registry" which states,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"The Secretary shall establish a national medical device registry to facilitate analysis of postmarket safety and outcomes data on each device that is or has been used in or on a patient..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In other words, everyone will by microchipped pursuant to the new Health Care Bill and must be registered with the Secretary of Health and Human Services. This law will be enforced 36 months after the health care bill becomes law!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;Not only will we be forced by the IRS to buy health insurance or be audited and fined and even jailed, but we now have to be chipped to "facilitate the doctors in viewing our medical files." NOW THAT IS SCARY AS HELL!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Friends, buy the book, "Lincoln Unmasked" by Thomas Dilorenzo and get the real facts about Lincoln. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Just another rant folks....and of course, fuel for the mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3224508462638068051?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3224508462638068051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3224508462638068051&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3224508462638068051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3224508462638068051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/04/abraham-lincoln-hero-or-villain-you.html' title='Abraham Lincoln; hero or villain. You decide.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8727470544888452872</id><published>2010-03-29T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T06:45:47.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My youngest being her normal self; cute!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;ttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6JP1cv_Z54 This will brighten your day and make you smile for sure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8727470544888452872?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8727470544888452872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8727470544888452872&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8727470544888452872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8727470544888452872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-youngest-being-her-normal-self-cute.html' title='My youngest being her normal self; cute!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1680260583153972484</id><published>2010-03-19T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T20:20:39.579-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Were there giants?</title><content type='html'>I just received an email with "undoctored" photos of HUGE human skeletons. These things are twenty feet tall! There were&amp;nbsp;archeologists sitting and standing all around these uncovered skeletons and they were tiny in comparison. You know, I've heard stories of giants living on the earth especially in the bible.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="" name="numbers"&gt;Number 13:32-33, which is the only other explicit reference to the Nephilim in the canon. In this passage, the Hebrew spies tell their desert-wandering comrades what they found in Canan&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="" name="numbers"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="" name="numbers"&gt;&lt;blockquote style="display: inline !important;"&gt;"...All the people we saw there are of great size. We saw the Nephilim there (the descendants of Anak come from the Nephilim). We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="" name="numbers"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;There are many more references to giants in the bible. But these photos offer some proof of their existence. They are simply amazing.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="" name="goliath"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="" name="goliath"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="display: inline !important;"&gt;&lt;a href="" name="goliath"&gt;One is instantly reminded of the first military encounter that David of Bethlehem had with the Philistines:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="" name="goliath"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="" name="goliath"&gt;&lt;blockquote style="display: inline !important;"&gt;A champion named Goliath, who was from Gath, came out of the Philistine camp. ... His spear shaft was like a weaver's rod, and its iron point weighed six hundred shekels [about 15 pounds]. (I Samuel 17:4a,7) &amp;nbsp;They estimate that Goliath was nine to twelve feet tall and that is still a long way from&lt;/blockquote&gt;twenty or more feet! Smokin' duck feathers! Imagine meeting someone that tall. You would barely reach past his knees! He could stomp on you like a bug.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I had a hard time even believing &amp;nbsp;that Goliath was as tall as they say, but now we have proof that there were HUGE people roaming the earth many moons ago. If you want the photos just give me your email.&lt;br /&gt;After I wrote this post, I googled it and some sites say it's a&amp;nbsp;hoax. But the pics they were talking about were nothing like the ones I saw.&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion. You can't even believe your own eyes, much less your ears!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1680260583153972484?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1680260583153972484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1680260583153972484&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1680260583153972484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1680260583153972484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/03/were-there-giants.html' title='Were there giants?'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4254625489133952342</id><published>2010-03-09T19:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T19:25:03.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping at Hell-Mart!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I have a new name for Wal-Mart, Hell-Mart. My latest experience went like this. I forced myself into Hellmart one day and bought a 12v/USB port, cost 14 bucks. Headed outside, threw the receipt in the garbage and went on my way. One month later it quit working. I was pissed off. Normally I would have thrown it away and bought another one somewhere else, but I though, "This is bullshit, can't them damn Chinese make anything that works longer than one month?" (No offense to the Chinese who make good products) So I forced myself back into Hellmart and after waiting in line for like a century, I asked if I could just exchange it for a new one. "Oh hell no," said the underpaid employee. "It has to be in its original package and with a receipt."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; OK numb-nuts, why would I save the damn plastic package. I bought it to use, not to store on a shelf in its original package just to look at every day! And why would I save the flippin receipt, you damn birdbrain? It's only 14 bucks, for crying out loud! Am I going to break the poor billionaire owners of Hellmart with a 14 dollar item? The poor owners who only make 36 billion a year, 98 million a day! WAKE the HELL up America! Don't you know Hellmart has bankrupted this country? Do you actually think that by saving 4 cents on a tube of&amp;nbsp;Roll-aids you're getting a good deal and helping America? Oh hell no...HELL NO I say! You are spending much more of your hard earned money than you think. You are stealing jobs from your father, mother, son, daughter, cousin and friend and in turn sending them to the welfare office to collect money that you helped put there which in turn causes your taxes to be raised, which in turn, duh....costs you more money. And that is only one of the NUMEROUS ways Hellmart SCREWS the American worker. You are also arming a communist slave trading nation at an alarming rate. A nation who vowed to KILL ALL WESTERN DOGS! (Remember the 70s and 80s?)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Did you know Hellmart takes out a life insurance policy on ALL of its employees? And when an employee dies, &amp;nbsp;Hellmart gets up to ONE MILLION dollars. And this money goes to its executives like CEO Lee Scott who made 29 million bucks in 06! Did you know that 90 % of all Hellmart employees have an income below the poverty line? Do you know that Hellmart avoided 2.5 billion in income taxes just because they can? Did you know Hellmart has bankrupted millions upon millions of hardworking genuine American companies and forced the owners and employees to lower their standard of living and seek help from good old Uncle Sam, which in turn is your tax dollars. Did you know there were 70-80 class action lawsuits against Hellmart for wage violations. Did you know that your local Hellmart store costs your community over 400 grand a year in public assistance programs and state and government&amp;nbsp;subsidies? That's just ONE Hellmart store. So, who funds your community if you don't? Once again, shopping at Hellmart is COSTING you way more than you can imagine. Did you know that if Hellmart raised its prices by just 2 cents per dollar - a 2 dollar pair of socks &amp;nbsp; made in China of course, would only cost 2.02- they could give their poverty stricken employees a yearly bonus of 7200 dollars and it wouldn't cut into their minimal profit margin of only 36 billion a year! Do you know how much money Hellmart pledged to donate to Chile......a paltry one million dollars! Oh but I forgot to tell you why. Because they just recently&amp;nbsp;leveraged&amp;nbsp;out and bought 58 percent of D&amp;amp;S grocery chain in Chile - Chile's largest grocery store- and will soon put them out of business when they move in.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; So go ahead America, continue "saving" at Hellmart and soon we'll all be forced to live tents in their parking lot working for them and in poverty of course, especially when a Chinese dictator is siting in the&amp;nbsp;White House, because we just wanted to "save" a penny or two at Hellmart. WAKE UP!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I made a personal vow- "Avoid Hellmart at all costs."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Peace WON'T be with you till you do the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4254625489133952342?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4254625489133952342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4254625489133952342&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4254625489133952342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4254625489133952342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/03/shopping-at-hell-mart.html' title='Shopping at Hell-Mart!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4078895992312465221</id><published>2010-03-07T22:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T22:26:42.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to Me!</title><content type='html'>It's my birthday folks....I can't remember which one though since I lost count back at around thirty something. This morn the girls made one of my favorite breakfasts of egg, bacon and cheese muffins with hashbrowns and sliced avocado and a hot cup of coffee....mmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Then for lunch they whipped up roast chicken, fresh salad, mashed potatoes and gravy....mmmm.&lt;br /&gt;And then to top it off, for dinner we had organic grass fed beef steaks cooked outside on a grill over mesquite coals...wow! Then to finish the evening for desert we had a huge slice of homemade cheesecake with fresh sliced strawberries on top.................out of this world! Now it's late and I'm stuffing my face with a pint of Butter Pecan Haagen Daz ice cream...life just couldn't get any better.&lt;br /&gt;Good night all and may God bless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4078895992312465221?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4078895992312465221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4078895992312465221&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4078895992312465221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4078895992312465221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/03/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday to Me!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3179305398389319217</id><published>2010-02-24T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T13:33:13.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting ready for spring!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Hello everyone sorry haven't posted in so long but the life of a farmer-rancher-toolmaker-writer and of course dad, is busy especially this time of the year. I've been planting more pom trees trying to get in another 15 acres so things are quite hectic. We are nearly finished so hopefully it will calm down a little anyway.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I was watching the news the other day about the guy who flew his plane into the IRS building...wow! In a way I don't blame him at all especially after reading his manifesto on his web page, it was amazing. What he had to say is so true that it's time us "sheeple" wake up before it's too late.......it already is. The super rich and the big corporations have a free ride like he says and the hardworking american taxpayer bails them out when they're in a bind! What a crime!!!!!!! And then when some poor man has a hard time paying his taxes (unconstitutional by the way) Watch "Breaking the Invisible Shackles of the IRS" by Sherry Peel Jackson. Google it and watch it and then tell me what you think!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess this was the only way he could fight back. But God forbid! He is called a terrorist and criminal! What about our forefathers that fought their own government????? Were they terrorists? What about the civil war. Were they terrorists? What about Andrew&amp;nbsp;Carnegie&amp;nbsp;when he had five hundred of his striking workers killed. Why wasn't he called a terrorist? I'll tell you why, because he was a billionaire and could do anything he wanted to and get away with it. Man I could get into some good conspiracies right now but we'll save that for later....gotta go back to work. Good day folks.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3179305398389319217?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3179305398389319217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3179305398389319217&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3179305398389319217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3179305398389319217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/02/getting-ready-for-spring.html' title='Getting ready for spring!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-866345991852919876</id><published>2010-02-13T23:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T12:41:18.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A harrowing incident for a naive adult. A gold mine for us kids!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In Vegas Dad and his brothers had made quite a few friends during their prolonged stay. One of them was a man named Don Ritter.* At this time in their lives, there was a plethora of 'End of the World' talk going around in our family. Their favorite pastime was to get together and discuss this eminent doom. Now Mr. Don was somewhat a fanatic about doomsday and was continually buying doomsday related products like guns, ammunition, powder, and reloading equipment.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;During the later part 1969 U. Porter decided he had enough of Las Vegas. He figured he would get out while he could and move to Mexico and help his dad run the farm. Besides, he sincerely believed a worldwide economic collapse was eminent and the sooner they got out of the big city, the better.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The grapevine has a loud mouth and no sooner had he made up his mind to leave when Mr. Don heard all about his plans. He hurried over and casually brought up the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"You know," he said warming up, "I've been thinking about moving south. I want to get away from it all because this country is about to collapse. I do have a lot of stuff to haul down though and I don't have a lot of room in my truck. Say, if any of you guys are going down, how about hauling &amp;nbsp;a few things for me? Heck, I'll even rent a box truck and one of you could drive it down. There will be lots of extra room for your stuff also. All I've got is a few supplies, like canned goods and a few other things for hard times. So, how about it?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"All righty then," said U. Porter glad to have a prepaid trip. "No problem, just let me know when you have it loaded."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Now dear reader, before I continue, I must inform you how strict the laws are in Mexico concerning weapons and ammunition. When it comes to things like assault rifles, gun powder, grenades, anti-aircraft missles, F-14 Tomcats...well now, I'm exaggerating just a little here but you get the picture, right? Anyway these things are totally illegal to cross into Mexico. If you are caught, it's life in prison, no exceptions or maybe you may get the electric chair! (They don't have capital punishment in Mexico, darn it!)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;As soon as Mr. Don had loaded his doomsday equipment in the box truck he threw in a few boxes of canned foods and things of that sort to hide it. Then he called U. Porter and told him to come on over and get it. U. Porter headed over and loaded up his household stuff without even checking what Mr. Don had put in. He then packed up his family, bid farewell to his brothers and started the long trip south.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;He arrived at the border totally unaware of the contents in the back of his truck. Now the laws in Mexico were specifically designed to facilitate the offering of bribes. In order to import anything into that country, you have to hire a customs agent and itemize everything you have. This process is so tedious and slow that one would much rather slip them a few bucks and be on their way.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;So here is U. Porter driving across the international border and as usual, he gets pulled over to be inspected by the Federales. (Customs officers) But he had not fear because all he had on board was household goods and foodstuff...so he thought. The Federale swaggered over and ordered him out of the truck.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Where you go?" he asked in broken English.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Oh, just down to my dads farm," said U. Porter.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"You no bring contraband, like weepons, or goons, or loots of mula?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Oh no way, just some stuff for my house and some food for my poor papa."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Open up dee back," ordered the Fed.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Sure no problemo," said U. Porter walking around to the back of the truck totally unaware that he was three feet from life in prison or even better, execution by firing squad! He rolled up the big door and stepped back as the Fed laboriously climbed up to have a look.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"See, I told you so," said U. Porter as the Fed aimed his flashlight towards the front of the truck.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"You have mucho stuff in heer," he said with a scowl, "Maybe I make you offload it all...or you can fork eet over," he continued making the universal sign for money.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"You don't have to do that. It would take way too much time...uh how about twenty bucks?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Oh no, you offload eet right now," he ordered.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Wait a minute, we can work this out, how about forty bucks, that's a lot of loot," offered U. Porter.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Well...OK you got a deal," he said grinning from ear to ear.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;U. Porter crossed his palm with two crisp twenty dollar bills and then climbed in his truck and headed for his new home. Arriving at the ranch, he parked the truck and hollered at some relative (we'll call Birdbrain) to come help him unload his "furniture."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Birdbrain hopped up in the truck and began throwing things down. As soon as all of U. Porters stuff was unloaded, they began to throw the junk Mr. Don had sent.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "What in tarnation is this?" said U. Porter as he caught something quit heavy.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Oh just a couple of semi-auto pistols," said Birdbrain as he threw something else down.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Well what in the name of Willy Coyote is this?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Hmm...well that's a twenty gauge shotgun and here's a twelve gauge, and oh wow here's a double barrel ten gauge with gold plated engravings!" said Birdbrain with glee.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Well what in the hell else is in there?" asked U. Porter with a scowl.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Huh...let's see, here's a 357 magnum and a 45 auto, and oh looky here, a 50 cal pistol! Oh wow check this out, a fully auto M1 Garand. Cool stuff huh man, where did you get all this loot? Oh boy, what is this? A bucket of gun powder and here's another...no way! Here's a barrel of gunpowder...no TWO barrels!"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; By this time U. Porter was frothing at the mouth he was so angry at his "friend" Mr. Don.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Son of a gun," continued Mr. Birdbrain. "Look at all this awesome stuff...there must be three or four trunks of M1 bullets in here. Oh what's in these sacks? Oly cow there must be two hundred pounds of 22 bullets in here! OH MY GOSH!" shouted Birdbrian. "There's barrels of shotgun shells, reloading equipment, cases of primers, caps and bullet shells...this is so cool!"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; By now U. Porter was laying on the ground white as a ghost, his blood veins bulging out of his forehead in anger. Visions of deep dark dungeons and Mexican firing squads flashing through his mind. He was so angry at his so called friend that if he had been there, he would have used some of his own weapons on him!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;You can be sure, after this alarming incident, there were constant threats of "the Fed's are coming" floating through the grapevine. Therefore U. Porter set to work to hide the arsenal of weapons he had just inherited. The guns went up in the attic and the rest of the loot went down into a hidden cave and there they stayed for years. Soon he got the jitters and out of the attic came the guns and into some other hiding place they went. After a while they were moved somewhere else. And then once again. Eventually the years passed and they started &amp;nbsp;disappearing one by one. Either they would get misplaced and lost, or more likely stolen. Some were even sold to the locals. Many years later Mr. Don finally came to the conclusion that doomsday was still off in the distant future and he showed up one day at the farm and demanded his loot back! Well, what he actually received compared to what he sent down was like a freckle off an elephants rear-end. But after listening to our harrowing stories of being hounded by the Federales, and the Judiciales, and every other 'ales you can thing of, he was consoled and resigned himself to leave with a few of the most expensive weapons.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;During that period, we never had so much fun wasting bullets. We shot at cans and bottles, quail and jackrabbits and anything else that had four legs. There were at least twenty thousand rounds of 22 and M1 bullets and we young bucks wasted every one. It took several years, but we accomplished it with glee!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Names are changed to protect the guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-866345991852919876?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/866345991852919876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=866345991852919876&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/866345991852919876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/866345991852919876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/02/harrowing-incident-for-naive-adult-gold.html' title='A harrowing incident for a naive adult. A gold mine for us kids!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8288331704710859321</id><published>2010-02-09T07:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T07:33:31.196-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life's little miracles.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;And then came Amanda Raquel. She was born on January 18th 2000, the Y2K year. The year the millennium started...or did it? Amanda was a beautiful pink chubby little girl. One week into her life, she began throwing up everything we fed her. She could not keep anything down. Her lips would turn blue and she quit gaining weight. We took her to a Pediatrician to find out what was wrong, hoping it was something we could cure with herbs. The Doctor listened to her heart for a few minutes and then sat down at his chair with a serious look on his face.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I hate to have to tell you this, but your daughter has severe heart problems and needs to see a heart surgeon at once," he said sympathetically. "I would recommend the Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City. They have some of the worlds best heart specialists," he continued. "There is a hole between the two main chambers in her heart and it is mixing the oxygenated blood with the un-oxygenated blood. This is why she is turning blue around her lips. You should leave immediately, it is serious."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;My heart was now in my throat as I sat there listening. We definitely were not expecting this tragic news. My wife made a few calls and arranged to have our kids taken care of while we were away. So, with heavy hearts and a precious child, we headed north to Salt Lake City.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Arriving in Salt Lake we were invited to stay at my brother's place. My wife made an appointment for the next day and we went and checked Amanda in. They did a sonogram and sure enough, they found a hole between the two chambers and also a main artery had grown in the wrong place. She would need major heart surgery to correct the problem. Her surgery was scheduled for the following week so we had time to contemplate and pray for a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The scene in the hospital surgery hall was one I will never forget. We were both crying as we handed our precious three week old child over to the nurses and watched as they disappeared behind swinging doors. It was a feeling of total helplessness and despair; a feeling of letting our little child down.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In the waiting room, two surgeons came in and introduced themselves. They sat down and explained what they had to do. She would be hooked up to a special machine that would totally stop the blood from flowing while they operated on her heart. Thus she would actually die for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"We were just wondering if you had a preference on who performed the operation," continued the youngest doctor after explaining what they had to do. "I would like to perform the operation...but it's up to you...huh, to be honest, I don't have as much experience as Dr. Hawkins here, but he will be my assistant and I'm confident it will be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"How many of these operations have you performed?" I asked turning to Dr. Hawkins.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Over a thousand...but it's up to you."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Well, no offense but I would prefer the experience."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"OK, that's no problem," they said getting up to leave. "We have to tell you there is a fair chance your child could die from complications as this is a very difficult process."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;The next six hours were the longest six hours of our lives. We could not eat, talk,or hardly think. Each tick of the clock was counted agonizingly. Time seemed to stand still. The thoughts that went through our minds tormented our soul. Finally a nurse came in. "The operation was a success, thank the Lord," she said. "We have her in the ICU now. I will be back soon to let you come see her."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I'll never forget the moment we walked into the ICU and saw our precious child lying lifeless and naked on the bed with countless wires and tubes hooked up to her tiny body. Tears flowed freely as I took her seemingly lifeless little hand and whispered in her ear, "Daddy and Mommy are here now and we love you little angel. We will never leave you again."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Her grasp tightened around my finger as if she would never let go, and I knew she heard me and was comforted. All of the nurses were like angels from heaven. They treated us like gold. Even the Doctors were considerate of our opinion. What an incredible difference from other hospitals I had been in. They gave us our own little room with a small bed so one of us could sleep while the other was with Amanda.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Every day the nurses had to take a blood sample from her. This was extremely difficult since her veins were so small. Usually they would call a special nurse in and she still had a hard time finding the vein. Amanda would scream in agony all the while, so much so, that my wife could not stand it and would walk into the hallway and cry. One particular day just after this ordeal, I came in for my turn to be with her and found the nurse holding her in her arms and sobbing silently, as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. She wiped them from her eyes and explained she had fallen in love with little Amanda and just couldn't stand to see her in pain. &amp;nbsp;A week after the operation, it was time to unhook her from the heart monitor and let her heart beat on its own. They turned it off but her heart would not pump without it so they had to leave it on. The doctor said that if her heart would not start working within the next week, he would have to install a permanent Pacemaker. Every morning they would try to unhook it but with no luck. For five consecutive days, they tried to get her heart to beat on its own, but it would not. We were very worried and praying with all our might. Early the sixth day, I was sleeping in my truck when Mom came out and woke me up with the good news. Here tiny heart was now working on its own.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; When my first son was born, we were treated worse than animals and I vowed to avoid hospitals at all costs. But with Amanda's experience, I must admit it changed my attitude towards some doctors and hospitals. The whole staff was genuinely concerned about our welfare and the well being of our child. During the long hours of the night in the ICU, I would sit and visit with the nurse as she cradled Amanda in her arms and took special care of her. We even became good friends with some of them.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; It was an experience we will never forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8288331704710859321?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8288331704710859321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8288331704710859321&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8288331704710859321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8288331704710859321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/02/lifes-little-miracles.html' title='Life&apos;s little miracles.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-6146971412923071989</id><published>2010-02-04T08:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T08:30:05.612-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From vacation to near tragedy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A few days after I returned from San Carlos a good friend invited me and a few others on a boat ride. The river was flooding and it sounded like fun so we readily accepted. He owns what was a very nice jet propelled river boat. We went for a cruise up and down the river for about an hour and then returned home. It was exhilarating. A few hours later he loaded up four other guys and headed out to go exploring. About an hour down river they came to an area where it divided into several several smaller streams. The section he chose had a large tree on one side of it. He was going about 30 miles an hour and it was quite a sharp turn to get through. It was too tight and the boat clipped the tree and flipped over, spilling its&amp;nbsp;frightened riders into the churning cold water. Two guys were trapped in the cabin part of the boat but managed to escape without any harm. The boat rolled down river a few hundred feet and then stopped where you see it in the picture. The water was cold and they were soaking wet, it was late and they were far from home. After hiking through the mountains for several hours, they arrived home. The next day twenty three men on quads headed down blazing a treacherous trial through the mountains to rescue the drowned boat. After three hours of tugging and pulling, we tipped it right side, tied it off and headed for home! Here is a link to some video. More coming soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVkLq_yrC-4&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rjzJaL6jI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Im20yvdjIkg/s1600-h/IMG_4186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rjzJaL6jI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Im20yvdjIkg/s400/IMG_4186.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rjMsv1F6I/AAAAAAAAAH8/sCIaKdcxp4Y/s1600-h/IMG_4198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rjMsv1F6I/AAAAAAAAAH8/sCIaKdcxp4Y/s400/IMG_4198.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rilqGk_oI/AAAAAAAAAH0/oFsIwrNQ10E/s1600/IMG_4206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rilqGk_oI/AAAAAAAAAH0/oFsIwrNQ10E/s400/IMG_4206.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rfgNC1f6I/AAAAAAAAAHs/ZlVkaAJX7Qg/s1600/IMG_4209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rfgNC1f6I/AAAAAAAAAHs/ZlVkaAJX7Qg/s400/IMG_4209.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-6146971412923071989?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/6146971412923071989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=6146971412923071989&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6146971412923071989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6146971412923071989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/02/from-vacation-to-near-tragedy.html' title='From vacation to near tragedy!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2rjzJaL6jI/AAAAAAAAAIE/Im20yvdjIkg/s72-c/IMG_4186.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-6245716497934571934</id><published>2010-02-01T22:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T22:02:02.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>San Carlos was tops!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2e0eQAaepI/AAAAAAAAAGk/ueMZvATWCQ4/s1600-h/IMG_4124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2e0eQAaepI/AAAAAAAAAGk/ueMZvATWCQ4/s320/IMG_4124.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2ewM_WwIUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/O8eoIV5X9H0/s1600-h/IMG_4120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2ewM_WwIUI/AAAAAAAAAGc/O8eoIV5X9H0/s320/IMG_4120.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2epZyGwW1I/AAAAAAAAAGU/sF5nQOiYJTY/s1600-h/IMG_4117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2epZyGwW1I/AAAAAAAAAGU/sF5nQOiYJTY/s320/IMG_4117.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2emYYVyocI/AAAAAAAAAGM/RguUaAlBjb0/s1600-h/DSC05176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2emYYVyocI/AAAAAAAAAGM/RguUaAlBjb0/s320/DSC05176.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They say, "A picture is worth a thousand words." So I say, "Start counting." We had a blast. Fished for two consecutive days. First day went out on a 48 foot&amp;nbsp;yacht&amp;nbsp;but the captain wasn't too&amp;nbsp;accommodating&amp;nbsp;or friendly. He quickly lost a cool grand because the next day we rented two smaller boats and the owner took us out himself. I would recommend him to everyone who wants to go there. His name is Bryan Replogle &amp;nbsp;at http://www.scaamexico.com/ He knows his stuff. San Carlos is a beautiful place and not a tourist trap. It is more for those who want to have a good time and have fun fishing and it is also one of the best scuba diving and&amp;nbsp;snorkeling areas in the country.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So next time you plan a vacation, fly on over (or drive, 6-7 hrs from Tucson AZ.) to Guaymas &amp;nbsp;Sonora Mexico and then take the short fifteen minute drive to San Carlos and start having a great time; That's an order!&lt;br /&gt;A note to all you Mexico haters. All the violence going on in Mexico is in the big cities and is always connected to the mafia and drug dealers. So if you aren't in the mafia, or you don't deal drugs, you are&amp;nbsp;comparably&amp;nbsp;safe in Mexico. Just don't get caught driving around in a pimped out Hummer or Escalade and you won't be picked up and held for ransom...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa, thanks for the 'Kick-ass' award. I would send it back to you but darn...your blog was kick-ass before mine and someone else beat me to it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post some videos of us fishing on youtube, later.&lt;br /&gt;Been gone for a few days and have a lot of blog reading to catch up on so enjoy everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-6245716497934571934?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/6245716497934571934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=6245716497934571934&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6245716497934571934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6245716497934571934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/02/san-carlos-was-tops.html' title='San Carlos was tops!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2e0eQAaepI/AAAAAAAAAGk/ueMZvATWCQ4/s72-c/IMG_4124.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4025281791059932797</id><published>2010-01-28T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T12:09:43.539-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goin' fishin'</title><content type='html'>I'm going deep sea fishing tomorrow with a group of about 15 friends and&amp;nbsp;relatives.&amp;nbsp;We'll be fishing for&amp;nbsp;yellow-tail. I'ts going to be a blast!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4025281791059932797?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4025281791059932797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4025281791059932797&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4025281791059932797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4025281791059932797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/goin-fishin.html' title='Goin&apos; fishin&apos;'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1375713049146384444</id><published>2010-01-25T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T21:38:14.904-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What does the future hold?</title><content type='html'>Question. Do you think it is possible for God or man to see, or predict the future? I've wondered about this a lot and have come to some conclusions. How would one go about predicting the future unless the future has already happened? Or, how can you predict the future based on how well you know someones character?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to get an idea of how this might happen I've taken the liberty to add my two cents. But being they're made of copper and nickel, they might not be worth a damn!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I have been married for twenty-five years to the same woman. So that goes without saying I know her pretty darn well in just that short period of time. In fact I know her so well, there are several things that I can predict she will do as a&amp;nbsp;consequence&amp;nbsp;of my actions. One&amp;nbsp;little&amp;nbsp;example. If I walk into the kitchen and love smack her on the hind end, I can predict exactly what she will say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one way this could happen is similar to this. Let's just assume we have been living with God for thousands of years, &amp;nbsp;meaning we are really thousands of years old. This is wholly possible because there is no such thing as time with God. No beginning, no end. Now if we are his children and are thousands of years old and God is Omnipotent and&amp;nbsp;All-knowing, then he knows us so damn well he can predict exactly what we are going to do and how we are going to react to every event in are lives! And by knowing this he can enter this info into his "super duper&amp;nbsp;quantum fifty trillion gig" computer and predict exactly what we will do and say every minute of every day for all our lives!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the only rational I can come up with......................Oh I did forget one thing. The only other way is some extra smart genius could invent a time machine and just slip right into the future and predict away...oops, &amp;nbsp;how could he predict away if the future hasn't happened yet?&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Which reminds me, Back to the Future was a pretty cool movie. And, The Time Machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever wondered about this?&lt;br /&gt;Do you think God just fastforward's time and then rewinds to tell us what will happen?&lt;br /&gt;Or are we just specks of dust in a giant universe and still in the "stone age?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1375713049146384444?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1375713049146384444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1375713049146384444&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1375713049146384444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1375713049146384444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-does-future-hold.html' title='What does the future hold?'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7046504246956561720</id><published>2010-01-22T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-22T17:07:30.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conspiray Day!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I decided to devote one blog a week as&amp;nbsp;conspiracy&amp;nbsp;day. I was always&amp;nbsp;intrigued by conspiracies because there is usually some, if not a lot of truth to them. Also, the movie Conspiracy Theory was a pretty cool show. So today we'll discuss whether or not the big bankers are trying to control the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Amschel Rothchilds made a statement that is now famous. "Give me control of a nation's money supply and I care not who makes it's &amp;nbsp;laws." &amp;nbsp;In 1910 president Woodrow Wilson went to a private meeting on Jekyl Island with the world bankers and planned the Federal Reserve Act which was passed into law in 1913. This act gave a group of private bankers the right to coin "our" money. "The Congress shall have the power to coin money and regulate the value thereof." &amp;nbsp;Article&amp;nbsp;1 US Constitution."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I have unwittingly ruined my country. A great industrial nation is controlled by it's system of credit. Our system of credit is concentrated in the hands of a few men. We have come to be one of the worst ruled, one of the most completely controlled and dominated governments in the world… no longer a government of free opinion, no longer a government by conviction and vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of small groups of dominant men." - Woodrow Wilson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Now, these bankers loan the government "our" money every year for the national budget and "we" have to pay the interest on those loans, which is hundreds of billions of dollars every year to private bankers. Oh, by the way the Federal Reserve Bank of New York is a PRIVATELY owned bank!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Banking was conceived in iniquity and born in sin. Bankers own the Earth. Take it away from them but leave them the power to create money, and, with the flick of a pen, they will create enough money to buy it back again. Take this great power away from them and all great fortunes like mine will disappear and they ought to disappear, for then this would be a better and happier world to live in. But, if you want to continue to be the slave of the bankers and pay the cost of your own slavery, then let the bankers continue to create money and control credit." - Sir Josiah Stamp, President, Bank of England (2nd richest man in England)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Now that is an amazing statement by a bank owner."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Every effort has been made by the Federal Reserve Board to conceal its powers, but the truth is that the Federal Reserve System has usurped the government. It controls everything in congress and it controls all our foreign relations. It makes and breaks governments at will." - Louis McFadden, Chairman of the House Committee on Banking and Currency!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties than standing armies. Already they have raised up a monied aristocracy that has set the government at defiance. The issuing power of money should be taken away from the banks and restored to the people to whom it properly belongs." - Thomas Jefferson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I could go on and on with these facts, but for now we'll chew on these. I tend to believe our great forefathers like Thomas Jefferson and such.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;What do you think about it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Do you believe in any conspiracy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Do you think this is all fabricated from the minds of lunatics?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Come on, let's delve into the dark conspiracies for some excitement!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br style="font-size: 13px;" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7046504246956561720?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7046504246956561720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7046504246956561720&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7046504246956561720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7046504246956561720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/conspiray-day.html' title='Conspiray Day!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7378443488696513485</id><published>2010-01-16T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-16T12:29:51.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sayings. How did they evolve into such nonesense?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I made a comment on someone’s Blog and it made me think. What did I say that for? What does that really mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;So, I decided to jot down a few common sayings and try to decipher them. &amp;nbsp;I'll start with the one I wrote in the Blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Funny as hell&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Did I hear anyone laughing down there? Who said Hell is funny? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Cold as hell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;OK, who’s been down there and checked the temperature lately? I always heard about fire and brimstone, but not snow and ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;It’ll blow your mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Now that would be a disgusting sight I can assure you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;You’re driving me up a wall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have never seen someone drive up a wall in my life, have you? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;You can’t have your cake and eat it too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now this is a good one. Every year my wife makes me a cake for my birthday and…I EAT IT! &amp;nbsp;"&lt;i&gt;Honey, here's your cake but sorry, you can't eat it. You have to go feed it to the chickens!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Straight as a die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Do you even know what a “die” is? I can tell you this much, there’s nothing straight about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Going out of my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I didn’t know you were&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt; in&lt;/i&gt; your mind in the first place! But please let me know how you got out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Slower than cold tar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;OK, is “hot tar” fast or what? The only time cold tar moves is when it’s in the back of a speeding truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;She’s built like a brick sh*t house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ve heard this one from all you male ego’s out there. That equation is terrible! Who ever said ANY sh*t house was beautiful is LOCO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Dumber than a post&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Do you have something against posts? I must be in the stone age because I didn’t even know posts had brains. They do&amp;nbsp;their&amp;nbsp;job just fine by standing there holding up the fence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Scared the hell out of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why do we insist on associating “hell” with everything and everyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Not if you have a stubborn horse. I’d like to see you pull a &lt;st1:metricconverter productid="1000 pound"&gt;1000 pound&lt;/st1:metricconverter&gt; bucking bronco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Sicker then a pig&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have a friend who has a pet pig that actually saved his owners &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;life from a house fire. The pig sleeps in his bed with him and his wife!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Holy crap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;What an oxymoron!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;You totally cracked me up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wouldn’t that be a sight? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Made you sit back and say mmm…didn’t I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7378443488696513485?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7378443488696513485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7378443488696513485&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7378443488696513485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7378443488696513485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/sayings-how-did-they-evolve-into-such.html' title='Sayings. How did they evolve into such nonesense?'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-885597917432440538</id><published>2010-01-11T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T07:42:40.795-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Requiem.    A true story of tragedy and sorrow.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The pitter patter of soft little footsteps was heard echoing down the hall toward his bedroom. Slowly the door opened, its cold steel hinges creaked quietly as the little figure brushed by. A soft hand reached out and touched his shoulder, gently shaking him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Papa, Papa,” a little voice whispered. “Papa, I’m scared, can I sleep with you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;His big hands reached out and gently pulled her to him, cuddling her between him and Mama, her favorite place of all. With his arm as her pillow, her curly golden-brown locks tickling his face, she silently went to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The sun slowly arose beyond the silver peaked mountains. Its beams driving away the darkness, filled the corners of the silent house with warmth. Little Jocelyn was the first one to spring out of bed, slightly pulling the covers off Papa and Mama. “Come on Mama, get up, I’m hungry,” the sunbeams paled in comparison to her bright smile as she shook her Papa awake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Jocelyn was the apple of her Papa’s eye. Her tender and happy spirit would bring a smile to his face even in the darkest of days. Just one minute with her hanging on to his finger and he forgot all his worldly woes. When Papa came home from work, she was there to meet him and would be his constant shadow. How could he not love her most of all? It is only natural to love those who dearly love you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Today was a beautiful crisp February morning. The early morning stillness reminded everyone of how cold it could be this time of year. Eventually the familiar sounds of the small village coming to life told the tale of a new day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Known only to the great God above, this day would live in sorrow and despair for both Papa and Mama. Oh, what would we give for a small glimpse into the future? Yea if we could only foresee a small moment ahead of time. But alas it is not humanly possible because of God’s infinite wisdom.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The terrifying scream of a mother in mortal anguish resounded throughout the small town. The man working on his truck stopped what he was doing and listened intently for a few minutes to be sure he had heard aright. Again the desperate scream. “Help me, oh please somebody help me!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Leaping in his truck, the man raced up the hill in the direction of the crying. “&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;Dear God,” he prayed, “Don’t let this be as terrible as it sounds.” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Bringing the truck to a quick halt, he sprang from the seat and sprinted to the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; What his eyes beheld shocked him to the core of his heart. The distraught mother sat on the ground clutching a small girl to her breast. Her wild eyes and blood soaked clothing told the tale of something terrible and heart wrenching. In her arms, her beautiful curls now matted and stained with blood, lay her precious Jocelyn. Without touching her, the man could tell she had gone to another world. She was dead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The man bent over, his hands shaking in sorrow and tried to sooth the mother. She looked at him through eyes wild with fear and screamed. “Oh man, please help me, please wake my darling angel up. She is only sleeping, oh please wake her up! Oh dear God, my husband will never forgive me, oh and I will never forgive myself. Please let me die with her!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Over and over, she pleaded with him. But the man hung his head in sorrow. He felt as the autumn leaves that drop from their lofty places scattered by the wind, only to be crushed by the thoughtless footsteps of man, completely helpless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The mother would not move from her humble place on the ground, even less would she release her beloved child to the man. She refused to face reality, no it was not, it could not be true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “How did this happen?” said the man, his voice cracked with emotion. Through her cries, she explained she wanted to move the truck out of the back of her yard. She ordered her children to stay in the house and then went out the front door and walked to the back and began driving the vehicle out of the yard. Little did she know, Jocelyn and her toddler brother Kelvin had snuck out the back door unnoticed. She started the vehicle and began to drive forward, totally oblivious to the fact that little Jocelyn was now in the heroic struggle of trying to save her brother from the crushing weight of the tire by jerking him away. Instead, both she and her brother ended up in its path! The mother felt the truck lurch slightly and her heart pounded in fear. &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;What had she ran over?&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Through her tears as she recounted the tale, she was reminded that her small son was also behind the house injured and alone. “Please go get my son!” she cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Another friend ran to help him. He was injured with broken bones but he was still alert and alive. He would survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The man then ran to his vehicle and drove for help. Many friends and family gathered to assist her but could not comfort her, nay she would not be consoled. An ambulance was many hours away in a distant town. Even Papa was gone into town several miles away. He was called immediately and told of the tragedy. His countenance turned pale as death itself. He could not force himself to even believe such a tale as he raced for home.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Papa drove up and quickly got out. In a daze, he hurried toward his house. The scene before him drained his body and soul of life. His blood soaked wife sat in the dust, holding her lifeless little darling to her breast. She looked up at her husband through her tears and screamed in agony, “Oh Papa, oh Papa, please forgive me. I killed our darling baby. No, no, no, she is still here. No she is not dead, she is just sleeping. Oh please, please dear God, take me instead! Why oh why don’t you take me instead?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Papa reached out through his glazed eyes and gently touched his little darling’s blood stained face. His arms reached out, wanting to hold her once more, to caress her soft cheeks again, but he had not the power to lift them, it was gone. His big heart broke as a terrible moan escaped his soul. Turning away he could not stand the scene any longer and wandered aimlessly about his yard. An ominous smell stung his nostrils. Nothing seemed true. Everything was gloomy and dark. His soul was on fire, nothing made sense, nothing at all.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;Why oh why did it have to be her…and like this?”&lt;/i&gt; the words tore through his tormented mind over and over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Mama’s cries echoed off the walls of the now silent town. Her mind would not relent. It would not concede. &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;Her child was clutched in her arms. She was still there. She had to be alive. She was just sleeping for a moment. Besides, God would not do this to her&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;darling baby; he would not take her that way.&lt;/i&gt; “Wake up my angel, oh please God wake her up,” she cried, again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; An agonizing hour passed as she gently rocked her baby back and forth beseeching God to reverse time. Begging him that she was just in a terrible dream and her baby would awake in her arms. The hardened hearts of the helpless men who stood silently watching, were broken and wretched. The women sobbed uncontrollably. Tears fell like raindrops from heaven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Eventually Mama unwillingly released her beloved child into the caring hands of the mothers who tenderly washed her body and prepared it to return to its creator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Deep into the night, Mama cried bitter tears of sorrow and regret. She could not forgive herself for what she had done, no never. In her sadness, she reminisced of the many times when she was down and discouraged little Jocelyn would always come and tenderly say, “Mama, why don’t you go get washed up and put your makeup on and change into your prettiest clothes. Then you will be happy again.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Now, her own gentle words of wisdom were coming to pass for little Jocelyn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; From up and down the valley they came. Papa had made many friends and now they were here to offer a hand of consolation. A small and beautiful casket was made in the only carpenter shop in town. Little Jocelyn, in her favorite attire was gently laid inside and the lid was closed. Then, the saddened hearts of friends and family followed her to her place of final rest. The little casket was lowered into the earth and soon the dust from whence it came enveloped it forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The sun began to set, and presently the people wandered home to heal. Mama stayed and carefully planted a single rose bush between the mountain rocks adorning her grave. Every single day for years thereafter, one would find Mama with her gallon of water, faithfully giving life to the blossoming rose on Jocelyn’s grave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The sun rises in the glorious sky, then fades into blackness. Only time can erase our sorrows and wounds. And time claims the soul from whence it was born. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: 21px;"&gt;Somewhere in Time&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;An aged mother lay softly on her bed, clutching her pillow as a tear slowly fell from her cheek and gently landed among the folds. Her mind had wandered back to that fateful day her darling Jocelyn had left her. Many years had passed and her broken heart had never fully healed. A child’s voice is never forgotten. The soft touch of a daughter’s hand can not be erased. The bright smile and curly golden locks were forever imprinted in her mind. But now time had come to claim its own.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; An aged mother lay quietly on her bed, her life here was fulfilled. Her heart beat slowly; it was tired these many years. She slowly closed her eyes. The tears were gone now. Rest, ah it felt so needed, so tired….so tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 21px;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; An Ode to Joy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The pitter patter of soft little footsteps was heard echoing down the hall toward her bedroom. The big wooden door softly opened, its cold steel hinges were silent as the little figure brushed by. A glorious sunbeam followed her past the big door, lighting the room with a soft glow. It was a new morn, a new day. A soft and oh so familiar hand reached out and touched her shoulder, shaking it gently.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Mama opened her eyes and rubbed them for a moment in disbelief. Had she heard right. Were her eyes deceiving her? She slowly reached out and took the soft little hands in hers as tears of joy cascaded down her cheeks. It was true. Her child was there beside her. She grasped her baby to her breast and gently rocked her back and forth once more.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; “Mama, Mama,” a beloved little voice whispered. “Mama, don’t be scared. You can come sleep with me now.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="font-size: 21px;"&gt;A New Beginning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;This happened on&amp;nbsp;February 3rd 2009 to a close&amp;nbsp;relative&amp;nbsp;in our town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;"The Man" was me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-885597917432440538?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/885597917432440538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=885597917432440538&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/885597917432440538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/885597917432440538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/requiem-true-story-of-tragedy-and.html' title='The Requiem.    A true story of tragedy and sorrow.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3280002645772312951</id><published>2010-01-04T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T18:43:39.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>May the "FORCE" be with me to remove this massive tree from my house!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S0KeIJkFgAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/gQBQ8pmLj_k/s1600-h/DSC03597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S0KeIJkFgAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/gQBQ8pmLj_k/s320/DSC03597.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was just browsing through my pictures and happened upon this one and just had to post it. This happened to my house a few months ago during the most severe thunderstorm I've ever&amp;nbsp;experienced in this valley. It was hailing like hell and the winds were almost hurricane force! Wow, it was&amp;nbsp;exhilarating&amp;nbsp; to say the least. Lesson learned...don't ever plant&amp;nbsp;Eucalyptus&amp;nbsp;trees in your yard! The root systems on these trees are very shallow with no tap root at all. They also drop heavy branches all the time during windstorms and it's dangerous to be underneath them as you can see. It had been raining for three days straight so the ground was soaked, making it much easier for the wind to topple this beast. Of course it chose to smack my house. Oh no, it wasn't about to fall anywhere else. It crushed three trusses and the rainwater soaked through the drywall and destroyed the ceiling in the bedroom. Needless to say, it was a mess! It took me a week to clean it up and repair the damage. I had five of these trees planted in my yard about 20 years ago and&amp;nbsp;regretted&amp;nbsp;it ever since. The very next day all but one&amp;nbsp;received a drastic trim job by Lafe the Butcher! I cut them down from 75 feet high to about ten feet. Don't want that to happen again I can assure you.&amp;nbsp;My Uncle's house also had several of these trees around his house and a much larger one toppled over on his house! Didn't do as much damage though. The storm reminded me of the time I was in New Orleans a while back. I was sleeping on the job (All hotels in the city were booked full do to Katrina's aftermath) in the back of my truck when the tornado sirens started blaring. It was about midnight and the wind and rain were coming down in torrents. There was nothing I could do but wait it out and pray I wasn't in it's path. Soon the truck was rocking back and forth like an empty boat in the raging sea. Man was I scared! The rain found its way into the camper and soon I was soaking wet. At times it felt like I was going to be carried away truck and all but soon it settled down to just a steady hard wind and buckets of rain for the rest of the night. Next morning (after drying out) I drove down the street ONE BLOCK and in front of me was a swath of total&amp;nbsp;devastation!&amp;nbsp;A F3 tornado had touched down and left a swath a few hundred yards wide of flattened homes and&amp;nbsp;business's! It was shocking to see.&amp;nbsp;That was&amp;nbsp;definitely the closest I've ever been to a live and livid tornado...and would ever want to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3280002645772312951?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3280002645772312951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3280002645772312951&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3280002645772312951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3280002645772312951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/may-force-be-with-me-to-remove-this.html' title='May the &quot;FORCE&quot; be with me to remove this massive tree from my house!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S0KeIJkFgAI/AAAAAAAAAFk/gQBQ8pmLj_k/s72-c/DSC03597.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4161895103028138738</id><published>2010-01-03T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T21:13:11.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>May we all have a sucsessful and adventureous new year!</title><content type='html'>Happy and healthy New Year everyone! I find it amazing how the older you get, time goes by much faster. It seems like only yesterday I was celebrating my wife's birthday and now it's just a few days away. I remember when I was a preteen, I couldn't wait for my next birthday and it always took forever to arrive. Then I reached 18 and I wanted life to stand still...except for the fact I couldn't get cheap insurance rates. At twenty-five, I started wondering if God hadn't put some high octane in the great time clock to speed it up a little because the days just seem to fly by at warp speed. At 30 I'm like, "Okayeeee, where did all my hair go," and "Wow, that six pack has turned into a twelve pack!" Now I'm 44 and time is going by at&amp;nbsp;ludicrous speed and I'm like wishing God would throw a wrench into that old time clock and &amp;nbsp;put it in reverse or something. It's amusing how the circle of life goes. I call it The Stepladder of Life. You start out as a helpless&amp;nbsp;little&amp;nbsp;child. Soon you are crawling, and then walking and then you begin to climb the steps of that stepladder of life. All too soon you reach the zenith of your life at the top of the ladder right at 30-40 years. Then begins the long hard climb down the other side. The closer you get to the bottom, the harder it is to walk and then eventually you can't walk. Finally, six feet under is our only option and we leave this world somewhat similar to the way we arrived.&lt;br /&gt;I always wondered why my parents would say "Time sure flies by fast." I would say to myself, "Yeh, for you maybe, but until I'm too big to spank, I think it needs to fly faster. Well, those are my thoughts for the day. &lt;br /&gt;Good night my friends....sweet dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4161895103028138738?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4161895103028138738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4161895103028138738&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4161895103028138738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4161895103028138738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-and-healthy-new-year-everyone-i.html' title='May we all have a sucsessful and adventureous new year!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1914984350117833681</id><published>2009-12-30T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T19:50:15.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is Lafe jr. heatin' up the piano at the Art Festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opRrcVLd_V0"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opRrcVLd_V0&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This song is called Corazon de Nino (A child's heart)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1914984350117833681?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1914984350117833681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1914984350117833681&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1914984350117833681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1914984350117833681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-is-lafe-heatin-up-piano-at-art.html' title='This is Lafe jr. heatin&apos; up the piano at the Art Festival'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1948046689295805162</id><published>2009-12-30T19:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T19:48:03.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brooke singing No Me Queda Mas at the 5th annual Art Festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opRrcVLd_V0"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opRrcVLd_V0&lt;/a&gt;   Original song No Me Queda Mas by Selena (I'm Not Staying Any Longer)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1948046689295805162?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1948046689295805162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1948046689295805162&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1948046689295805162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1948046689295805162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/brooke-singing-no-me-queda-mas-at-5th.html' title='Brooke singing No Me Queda Mas at the 5th annual Art Festival'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-972938394342112827</id><published>2009-12-24T08:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T14:10:07.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From my book, Kids Who Tell It Like It Is. Something to keep you smiling for the holidays.</title><content type='html'>More accurate a true words have never been written.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Jeffery's mother was teaching school and today she had a special assignment for her students.&lt;br /&gt;From their several spelling words, she wanted them to use their imagination and write sentences&amp;nbsp;with them. Jeffery bent over and carefully studied his words. Two of them, "born" and "ouch"&amp;nbsp;stood &amp;nbsp;out like a skinned knee.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;"This is a cinch,"&lt;/i&gt; he thought, as he penned this stark reality.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;"When I was born, my mom said ouch!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-972938394342112827?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/972938394342112827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=972938394342112827&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/972938394342112827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/972938394342112827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/from-my-book-kids-who-tell-it-like-it.html' title='From my book, Kids Who Tell It Like It Is. Something to keep you smiling for the holidays.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3526686884346620486</id><published>2009-12-17T07:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T16:43:28.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Into the Abyss. Continued.</title><content type='html'>To our&amp;nbsp;immense relief, there he was, laying on a huge boulder about twenty feet away from us! The massive rock was about ten feet below from where we stood. Between him and us and beyond, was the Abyss! The boulder had fallen from somewhere above and wedged itself between the two vertical walls, just hanging there in what looked like midair. It was about six feet in diameter and somehow, or better said, someone had pushed Brent across the twenty foot chasm exactly hard enough to make him land on this comparably small area. One step forward or backward and he would certainly fall to his death! He was moaning slightly and of course in shock at what had just transpired.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Are you hurt badly?" my&amp;nbsp;frightened&amp;nbsp;voice echoed off the cavern walls. Brent said nothing. He seemed dazed and unaware of his&amp;nbsp;surroundings. And then to our utter horror, he jumped up and began to straddle the two sides of the cavern with his feet and slowly started inching his way up toward us!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Brent, stop right now, you are in shock and we're sending for a rope to pull you up!" I hollered frantically as my son Clarence raced back out of the cavern to get one.&lt;br /&gt;Brent paid no attention to our demands and continued inching his way up toward us with nothing below him but blackness. &lt;i&gt;Now dear reader, just imagine two vertical nearly smooth rock walls from four to five feet apart and this totally psyched out individual leveraging himself up the walls with no&amp;nbsp;apparent footholds and just empty space below him. Nothing to hold on to, except the rock walls and yet somehow he was climbing up towards us. Absolute insanity!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least fifteen to twenty feet he climbed before reaching our outstretched arms to pull him to safety. As soon as he reached the solid footing where we stood, his knees buckled and he slumped to the cavern floor and began sobbing. We all sat there in the darkness contemplating on what had just happened. Back outside my brother Kenny had called Brent's Dad and told him his son had fallen down a&amp;nbsp;bottomless&amp;nbsp;mineshaft and then his phone lost signal before he could explain any further.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; A half hour passed before we could gather our senses and then after quietly thanking the Lord, we slowly made our way out of the Abyss. Brent was mighty shook up, but incredibly, other then a few scrapes and bruises, he was grateful to be alive. To this day, he will attest to the fact that he felt some unknown being push him over the chasm, it being impossible to get there otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;Thus ended our quest for untold riches!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3526686884346620486?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3526686884346620486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3526686884346620486&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3526686884346620486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3526686884346620486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/into-abyss-continued.html' title='Into the Abyss. Continued.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5257151221946590054</id><published>2009-12-15T08:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T16:54:39.854-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Into the Abyss. A true story. Page 42</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In all reality, the quad ride was just a means of getting to our destination. We had been planning this for a long time. There were untold riches in the El Tigre mine just waiting for us to pick it right off the cavern walls. To help us in our efforts to get rich, we brought three of the worlds best metal detectors in high hopes of sneaking into the dark mine shafts and searching out the mountains of gold! We quickly set up our tents and soon everyone was exploring the many caverns and interesting things to see. Eventually I headed into the biggest mineshaft I could find with metal detector in hand and visions of gold in my mind. I had read a book long ago about this mine. At the time of its operation, it was the richest gold mine in North America. During its peak operation, a twenty mule train of gold bullion would leave the mine every month! As I wandered into the darkening shaft, I noticed several of the gang following me in. As the sparse light from the entrance faded into blackness, a few of the guys pulled out their flashlights and aimed the murky beams deeper into the mine. There were a total of only three flashlights among the whole group, so we had to be careful and stay together. Upon entering the mine cavern, I knew right away this was a very&amp;nbsp;perilous&amp;nbsp; adventure. In some areas, the shaft dropped hundreds of feet below us and there was only a small trail on one side for us to walk on. One misplaced step would send you into hell somewhere below in the deep. The cave was about four feet wide most of the way and hundreds of feet high. We would slowly inch our way, hugging the wall and placing every foot carefully as we made our way past the dangerous areas.&lt;br /&gt;The blackness was so thick you could almost reach out and touch it but the thrill of adventure and excitement drove us deeper and deeper into the mountain. Eventually, I began sweeping the walls of the shaft with my metal detector. Every few minutes it would start beeping and we would get excited and vigorously chip a piece of ore off the wall. I was paying way to much attention to the walls and not to where I was stepping when I nearly fell off into what I call, The Abyss. This was a vertical mine shaft about five feet wide and hundreds of feet long that went straight down into an abyss! Right about this time, the detector began beeping as I swept it over the wall above my head at the edge of the chasm. In his excitement and without thinking, my 24 year-old nephew Brent shimmied up the cavern walls using one leg on each side. He had a flashlight in his mouth and a small pick in his hand and with the other, he was hanging onto the ledge. I was almost directly below him right at the rim of the precipice. What happened next was not mere chance or coincidental. As Brent began to chip at the ore with his pick, his back foot slipped and instantly his flashlight fell into the abyss and left us in the pitch black darkness! In the next few seconds a million thoughts raced through my mind. &lt;i&gt;Why did this happen? Was it my fault? Why were we so damn stupid to do something like this? How are we going to tell his parents? How are we going to get his body out of the chasm?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;As these and many other horrible thoughts raced through my mind, I heard Brent falling with a few loud groans &amp;nbsp;and the sound of him slamming against the rocks, and then all was silent. Eternity passed in the deadly stillness and no one breathed as I fumbled in my pocket to extract my flashlight. My trembling fingers could hardly locate the button to turn it on. I directed the beam down into the abyss and peered down with my heart in my throat, dreading what I should have seen. The powerful beam penetrated the murky darkness faintly illuminated the rocky floor of the deep chasm. Brent was not there! &lt;i&gt;"What in the hell just happened,"&lt;/i&gt; I wondered aloud. Suddenly we heard a noise somewhere below us and I quickly brought the beam up and pointed in the direction of the sound.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5257151221946590054?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5257151221946590054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5257151221946590054&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5257151221946590054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5257151221946590054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/into-abyss-true-story-page-42.html' title='Into the Abyss. A true story. Page 42'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-6229165603425423657</id><published>2009-12-10T07:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T07:07:15.221-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A history lesson</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;OK here goes. In my last post, I pinned the blame for Mexico's corruption on the Catholic Church and now I must explain why.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Before Mexico's &amp;nbsp;greatest president, Benito Juarez dethroned the Pope by separating Church and State, the Pope had complete and unhindered control of the government of Mexico. The Pope's deceptive teaching of indulgences; of paying money to absolve ones sins, is the root cause of all this corruption! This is a form of bribery in the strictest sense of the word. If one is brought up all his or her life bribing "God" for their spiritual and temporal sins, then of course one can also bribe the government to not apply the law on their behalf. Or, if you have enough money, you can bribe the law to support you in any endeavor be it illegal or criminal because they, like you, have been brought up with the same convictions; commit sin, pay money to "God" and get forgiven. In other words, murder to get gain, rape, assassinations, dealing drugs, adultery or any form of criminality is OK in a criminal's state of mind as long as he can go to the great Church and pay "God" to absolve him of his crimes! This is what it eventually evolves into. Dear reader, can you see how this has happened? If one can commit a little sin with little or no punishment from either government or church then one soon becomes addicted to his habits and they only get worse. If you tell a child all his life the sky is purple, he will believe it with all his heart and mind. To this day, a Catholic person in Mexico can pay money to be forgiven of his sins. He or she isn't&amp;nbsp;required&amp;nbsp;to repent and sin no more, they are just free to do as they please. I have witnessed it. And now that's the end of my rant.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Don't take this wrong and &amp;nbsp;assume I am grouping all Catholic people in this&amp;nbsp;category. Everyone has a&amp;nbsp;conscience, and most people let their conscience be the guide in this matter. There are many millions of good Catholics who&amp;nbsp;abhor and fight the corruption all over the world.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-6229165603425423657?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/6229165603425423657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=6229165603425423657&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6229165603425423657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6229165603425423657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/history-lesson.html' title='A history lesson'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8629335175038376362</id><published>2009-12-05T18:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-06T15:39:34.844-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My turn to rant!</title><content type='html'>Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;Mexico does not have the &amp;nbsp;death penalty. The vilest of criminals, if caught, go to jail for a maximum of only 50 years; if they don't have money that is. With money, there is usually a way out of jail and back to whatever put them there in the first place. Due to the extremely low wages for law enforcement, many police officers and military are bribed or in some ways forced into joining the drug cartels. Here they make mega dollars for protecting the drug shipment routes and defending their territory. This is why most of the assassins that work for the drug cartels are&amp;nbsp;professionally trained ex-police or ex-military-turned violent criminal. These murderers have no conscience whatsoever. They glory in their crimes and live for the next kill. Also, since it is such easy money and there are little or no consequences for their actions. Many ex-police officers are getting into the "sport" of kidnapping and extortion.&lt;br /&gt;Due to the avaricious appetite for drugs in the USA, it is only going to get worse in Mexico. All of this could be solved if (1) Mexico would reinstate the death penalty for any politician or government employee or ex-employee convicted of accepting a bribe that results in someones death. Or, other crimes like treason, murder, kidnapping and all&amp;nbsp;heinous crimes against humanity. And (2) if the USA would legalize drugs, just like they did alcohol. I believe this would eventually eradicate the whole problem. If a derelict wants to do drugs, he will get them some way or another. There is no law that will stop him. And now because of the laws made to benefit the drug dealer, he is a criminal. But the Congress of the United States will not legalize this vile business, because it is just that, big business!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;In 2008-2009 there were over 2 kidnappings per day in Mexico! The victims will not go to the law because they get threatened with unconstrained retribution. And, the law is usually involved in the crime! Also, the law rarely solves the crime or arrests the perpetrator, resulting in the loss of their loved ones. Mexico is now the country with the highest rate of abductions in the world!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;On a personal note. I pin the blame for this corruption entirely on the Catholic Church and in my next post I will explain why....so don't get offended.....yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8629335175038376362?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8629335175038376362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8629335175038376362&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8629335175038376362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8629335175038376362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-turn-to-rant.html' title='My turn to rant!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-588226522038185454</id><published>2009-11-30T21:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T01:50:52.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to normal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/SxTmjal94aI/AAAAAAAAAFU/PAO_lLT2M1c/s1600/DSC00944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/SxTmjal94aI/AAAAAAAAAFU/PAO_lLT2M1c/s320/DSC00944.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Thanksgiving is now in the past and all are looking forward to a cold winter and the next holidays. Our week long vacation was a&amp;nbsp;success! The weather was absolutely beautiful, with plenty of sunshine and no rain or snow. The day after the celebration ended, a massive storm system moved in with rain, hail, snow and brrrrr cold weather for three consecutive days! Saturday's carnival- fair was too fun for the kids. They had a ball. Then the live auction raised over five thousand dollars for the new&amp;nbsp;Cultural Art center I'm building next year. Everyone donated an item or two, from pies to grandfather clocks and some even &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;auctioned off themselves for an eight hour work shift! It was fun.&amp;nbsp;Wednesday's concert was also a success in raising over eleven hundred for the center.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;After last thanksgiving, we decided we needed a building dedicated to the arts. The kids love to put on plays and give concerts, so we came up with a plan to give fundraising concerts and auctions and anything to raise money for the&amp;nbsp;cause. It will also be used for weddings and music lessons and art lessons and from now on, our next thanksgiving parties! The government has a program to help promote the arts and will give two dollars to every one that we come up with, so that will help tremendously.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Now.......all is quite and life goes on and it's back to the grindstone my friends! God bless.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; (Picture is the tail end of the thanksgiving parade)&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-588226522038185454?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/588226522038185454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=588226522038185454&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/588226522038185454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/588226522038185454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/back-to-normal.html' title='Back to normal'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/SxTmjal94aI/AAAAAAAAAFU/PAO_lLT2M1c/s72-c/DSC00944.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-726331676463217778</id><published>2009-11-26T22:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T22:54:16.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Thanksgiving folks.</title><content type='html'>Freedom of speech. Freedom of religion. Freedom of heavy taxation. Freedom of the press. The right to bear arms. The right to a trial by jury. These are the thing our forefathers fought and died for. Most of the signers of the Declaration of&amp;nbsp;Independence suffered and died for us to have these freedoms! This is what we should be thankful for.....even though most of these freedoms are&amp;nbsp;subtly being taken from us by our liberal government.&amp;nbsp;We are now heavily taxed. Our right to bear arms is all but gone. Some religions are being&amp;nbsp;persecuted. The press is controlled. Our freedom of speech is strictly monitored. But, even with these infringements on our rights, the USA is still the most free country in the world. So let's be&amp;nbsp;grateful and remember what our forefathers gave us!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Thanksgiving was a blast! There are over three hundred friends and family here to celebrate with. We had the dinner all together and enjoyed the commotion. The kids put on some great plays. Some of them are natural born actors. The quad ride was a winner as usual. Most of the guys had a good time pranking one another. We had a open air concert with several entertainers, Brooke being the grand finale. It was very entertaining and enjoyable, even though it did get quite cold later on at night. Tomorrow is sports day and then there will be a dance in the evening. Saturday is the carnival and live auction. Can't wait! &amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-726331676463217778?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/726331676463217778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=726331676463217778&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/726331676463217778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/726331676463217778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/happy-thanksgiving-folks.html' title='Happy Thanksgiving folks.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5441665383608978361</id><published>2009-11-20T08:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T08:00:12.212-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What is your favorite "thing" about Thanksgiving?</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Thanksgiving is almost here...yesss! &amp;nbsp;It's my favorite holiday for sure. There are several things I like about Thanksgiving, but I want to know, what is your favorite part of the holiday? I like visiting with friends and relatives that come...and the food...and the, no I'm kidding. The whole week is a blast, but let's just have your favorite part, ok?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5441665383608978361?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5441665383608978361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5441665383608978361&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5441665383608978361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5441665383608978361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-is-your-favorite-thing-about.html' title='What is your favorite &quot;thing&quot; about Thanksgiving?'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-585607942018415944</id><published>2009-11-15T17:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T17:33:53.155-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My second Award!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4FQ2Ey66tsw/SwBjCoVWMyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/MO0OuyeJJxk/s320/award+7+things.jpg" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;First I want to thank Bendigo's Rage for giving me this award. I also want to thank him for mentioning my blog and my daughters singing. I want to acknowledge Bendigo's blog here also. I enjoy reading it and it keeps you coming back for more; great blog.&lt;br /&gt;Now for the things my readers don't know about me...hmmmm,&lt;br /&gt;#1 It took me thirty minutes to try and post this award to my sidebar and I still failed...darn!&lt;br /&gt;#2 I only went through 5th grade (home school) dad needed me too much after that...ouch that hurt my ego!&lt;br /&gt;#3 I am highly skilled in several trades....now my ego doesn't hurt so bad.&lt;br /&gt;#4 I make the best coffee...mmm, especially when I roast my own beans in my coffee roaster.&lt;br /&gt;#5 When I was 12 years old, I fell off a horse and broke my wrist...there it goes again.&lt;br /&gt;#6 I have over four hundred books in my shelves and have read most of them, some twice and even thrice.&lt;br /&gt;#7 I took me way too long to think of all this...what a&amp;nbsp;cop out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;As for the rest of the rules. I will check out the blogs Bendigo mentioned...when time allows...and more then likely follow some of them and then finish what I started here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-585607942018415944?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/585607942018415944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=585607942018415944&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/585607942018415944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/585607942018415944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-second-award.html' title='My second Award!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4FQ2Ey66tsw/SwBjCoVWMyI/AAAAAAAAAFA/MO0OuyeJJxk/s72-c/award+7+things.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8822507478163682447</id><published>2009-11-13T20:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T20:06:43.309-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempus Fugit; Time Flies, especially when your busy.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I've been so busy lately I can't seem to get on here and jog down a few thoughts. Well, at the moment my thoughts just seem to escape me.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;My brothers and I just finished branding another 213 head of cattle we purchased from a rancher up the valley. He had to sell his whole herd to avoid getting his ranch&amp;nbsp;repossessed. He was the ex-mayor of Bavispe who spent a ton of his own money trying to buy votes to get re-elected but lost anyway. During the elections he offered 250 dollars for each &amp;nbsp;opposing voter card delivered to him, which is a federal crime by the way. 250 dollars is a lot of cash for someone who makes 12 bucks a day. He would keep the voting card until the election was over then give it back to its owner. This would stop the person from voting against him. He managed to buy quite a few cards at considerable personal and "federal" expense. But alas, when no one likes you it is very hard to get voted into public office....unless you have the "media and a LOT of money behind you." &amp;nbsp;He lost big time and now, three years later is flat broke and on the verge of losing everything. To sum it up; dishonesty does NOT pay. For us, it was just what we were looking for. A complete herd of cows, bulls, heifers and steers at a good price. So, that is what's been happening for the last week..busy..busy...busy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8822507478163682447?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8822507478163682447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8822507478163682447&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8822507478163682447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8822507478163682447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/tempus-fugit-time-flies-especially-when.html' title='Tempus Fugit; Time Flies, especially when your busy.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7903293828494347421</id><published>2009-11-09T06:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T06:33:52.894-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter is right around the corner</title><content type='html'>Winter is almost here and my favorite time of the year is nearly gone. I love the Autumn when the leaves turn gold and the night gets a slight chill. I have never seen better weather anywhere then right here during September-October with perfect 70 degree days and chilly nights. It seems like only last month we were celebrating thanksgiving and now it's here again! Wow, time sure sails by&amp;nbsp;unnoticed. &amp;nbsp;Every year family and friends come from all over the states to celebrate here at the ranch. What can I say, it's tradition. There are sports, like baseball, volleyball, and basketball for the teenagers and adults. We have foot races, bike races, sack races and every other race you can think of for the kids. Since quads were invented, we've had a two day quad ride also. The year before last there were 37 quads and several motorbikes on the trail, it was huge! There are old unused roads everywhere up in the mountains, so it gives us plenty of new scenery every time. Of course there's the huge turkey dinner where everyone pigs out and then complains about overeating. Then, there's the program with the kids putting on plays and skits and singing performances which is always fun. And lastly, we have a dance in the gym to close the celebrations. I remember back when I was a teen. I couldn't &amp;nbsp;wait for thanksgiving every year it took so long to come around. Now, It seems like we just get done &amp;nbsp;celebrating and boom! Thanksgiving is two weeks away, again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7903293828494347421?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7903293828494347421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7903293828494347421&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7903293828494347421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7903293828494347421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/winter-is-right-around-corner.html' title='Winter is right around the corner'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3489873917163227177</id><published>2009-11-04T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T06:39:31.337-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here is another one from Brooke. Be careful, you might cry a tear or two!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Title"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.youtube.com%252Fwatch%253Fv%253DOhVj97bqPzU&amp;amp;h=67d84e0bdb637732ebd01e8ec441c88c&amp;amp;ref=nf" onclick="ft(&amp;quot;4:10:263:752745930:2:::0:nf:::182420954496&amp;quot;);" target="_blank"&gt;Brooke Langford Hallelujah 0001&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Caption"&gt;Source: www.youtube.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Caption"&gt;The words to this song were changed from the original Shrek theme. This is the Ill Divo version, very beautiful words.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3489873917163227177?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3489873917163227177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3489873917163227177&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3489873917163227177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3489873917163227177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/here-is-another-one-from-brooke-be.html' title='Here is another one from Brooke. Be careful, you might cry a tear or two!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2054972518849085716</id><published>2009-11-03T18:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T18:05:16.442-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My daughter Brooke singing foolish games.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Title" style="font-weight: bold; padding-top: 3px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%253A%252F%252Fwww.youtube.com%252Fwatch%253Fv%253D52tmxadr4i8&amp;amp;h=67d84e0bdb637732ebd01e8ec441c88c&amp;amp;ref=share" onclick="ft(&amp;quot;4:20::100000285464693::::0::::170100584210&amp;quot;);" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank"&gt;Amazing voice!!! singing Foolish Games&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Caption" style="color: grey; padding-top: 3px;"&gt;Source: www.youtube.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Copy" style="color: grey; padding-top: 3px;"&gt;Brooke Langford singing Jewel's Foolish Games&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="UIStoryAttachment_Copy" style="color: grey; padding-top: 3px;"&gt;I guess I talked about the art festival so much, I have to post one of the songs she sang there. So enjoy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2054972518849085716?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2054972518849085716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2054972518849085716&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2054972518849085716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2054972518849085716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-daughter-brooke-singing-foolish.html' title='My daughter Brooke singing foolish games.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3611398404437902800</id><published>2009-11-01T14:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T14:43:49.078-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter Eighteen. Rambling On.</title><content type='html'>So now when we wanted to cruise the boulevard with the senoritas, we had our choice of a wrecked '81 ford pickup, or a wrecked '74 ford pickup or an old wrecked ford van. We chose the pickup because there was no way we were gonna cruise chicks in a twelve passenger van.&lt;br /&gt;Winter had come upon us in all its fury and it was mighty chilly that day. Danny, Kenny, Mike, Troy and I wanted to go into Douglas for the weekend to watch a movie and just hang out. We grabbed all the warm gloves, coats, blankets and ski goggles and warm caps we could find. Then, we packed ourselves into the '73 ford pickup as warm as possible. Now this pickup not only didn't have a front end, it didn't have fenders, hood or a windshield either! This is what all the warm gear was for. We spread the blankets &amp;nbsp;over our legs and put on our ski goggles, gloves and caps and started for town. By the time we arrived in Agua Prieta, even with the heater on full blast, we were freezing cold. Danny was driving and had to face the full thrust of the wind. To combat this, he put &lt;i&gt;two&lt;/i&gt; pair of ski goggles on, one over his eyes and the other over his mouth. This was quite a sight, five aliens packed in the front seat of a truck straight out of the junkyard!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Driving through town was hilarious. People would twist around and stare at us like we were nuts. We would just smile and wave at them. Danny pulled up to the US border checkpoint and stopped. He had icicles clinging to his chin and frozen snot oozing from his nose while his breath fogged up his ski goggles. The customs officer stood there a few moments looking at us in amazement as if we were straight from mars. "Jesus Christ," he said loud enough for the whole department to hear. Then shaking his head to suppress his laughter, he motioned for us to get the hell out of his sight.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Se ya later," chortled Danny fogging up his double dose of goggles, and off to the movies we went. There couldn't have been a more desperate bunch of lunatics on earth, but we didn't care, this was just another adventure!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3611398404437902800?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3611398404437902800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3611398404437902800&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3611398404437902800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3611398404437902800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/11/chapter-eighteen-rambling-on.html' title='Chapter Eighteen. Rambling On.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-108300024547427834</id><published>2009-10-26T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T18:38:03.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The art festival was a blast.</title><content type='html'>Had a great time at the Luna de Montana art festival. Met a few famous artists who&amp;nbsp;appraised&amp;nbsp;and actually bought one of my daughter's and sister's paintings! They are so excited about it. My sister Elaine and Lillian, and my daughter Melanie brought some of their paintings to display at the museum. &amp;nbsp;He, (John&amp;nbsp;Higgins, famous artist) said that Elaine's paintings are worth from 1500 to 2500! Lillian sold four of her paintings and Melanie sold one of hers. He said they have quite a talent and he thinks they should start showing their work at art shows. They also had a silent auction and I won a painters easel for Melanie. The show started with a noted&amp;nbsp;opera singer. She was accompanied with a pianist who plays for the Hermosillo orchestra. They performed for nearly an hour. She sang &amp;nbsp;absolutely&amp;nbsp;beautiful and flawless, but after a few songs I could tell that the crowd was getting restless. It was all in a different language and sort of&amp;nbsp;monotonous. After their act, the food was served and then my son Lafe played five songs on the piano. He was quite nervous but everybody loved it and gave him a standing ovation. He then played for my daughter Brooke as she sang Josh Groban's Remember When It Rained. Her third song was Hallelujah (Ill Divo version) and when she was done, the&amp;nbsp;audience was on their feet and I noticed most of the adult men, including the&amp;nbsp;Secretary&amp;nbsp;of State, were wiping the tears from their eyes! She sang five songs, the last one was Selena's No Me Queda Mas to which the crowd went wild and gave her another standing ovation. When she sat down, the pianist came over to our table and asked if she would sing I Will Always Love You, and he would accompany her on the piano. She consented and after a few other acts, they &amp;nbsp;ended the show with that song and another standing ovation. Then it was off to the Plaza to dance the rest of the night away with a live band. Everyone had a wonderful time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-108300024547427834?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/108300024547427834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=108300024547427834&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/108300024547427834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/108300024547427834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/had-great-time-at-luna-de-montana-art.html' title='The art festival was a blast.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8864154244991137572</id><published>2009-10-24T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T06:47:58.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Luna Montana is here!</title><content type='html'>Today is the last day of "La Luna Montana" (The Mountain Moon) art festival in Huachineras, a small town about thirty miles from here. This evening at eight pm, my daughter Brooke and son Lafe are going to sing and play piano at the Museo de Arte. Tickets are two hundred pesos ($18) per person. This includes entrance into the&amp;nbsp;museum,&amp;nbsp;a gourmet meal and performances from several artists. Brooke will sing four or five songs including, "Hallelujah" (Ill Divo version) Foolish Games, No Me Queda Mas and Remember When It Rained (duet with Lafe jr. on piano) &amp;nbsp;Lafe will play several pieces on the piano. It's going to be a blast! This will be their first performance in front of a large audience and they are a little nervous to say the least. I will post some of the performance on the web so you all can enjoy it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8864154244991137572?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8864154244991137572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8864154244991137572&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8864154244991137572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8864154244991137572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/luna-montana-is-here.html' title='The Luna Montana is here!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2819500094073862434</id><published>2009-10-18T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T08:53:46.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In need of more funny and frank sayings from the mouths of babes!</title><content type='html'>Back to business! I still need more funny stories from your children. If you have written them down in journals or just stored them in your memory and want your child to be "famous" then email me or post them here and we'll go from there. I know this doesn't reach very many people, but you can help by sending this message to everyone you know and they can do the same and pretty soon the whole world will know...wow cool huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/Sts45KizzpI/AAAAAAAAAEE/JfnDdV0PbZo/s1600-h/Mom%27s+pics+128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/Sts45KizzpI/AAAAAAAAAEE/JfnDdV0PbZo/s400/Mom%27s+pics+128.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I get a lot of mothers who tell me "Oh my child just said something so dang funny the other day...but I forgot what it was! My advice...grab a pen and jot it down in your journal immediately, that way whenever your feeling down and discouraged and you need a laugh, you'll always have something that will make you smile or burst out laughing. Also, when I get on my knees and beg you for MORE stories, you won't say "huh....I forgot what my incredibly intelligent child said...but I do remember, it was sooooo funny."&lt;br /&gt;(Pic) "Oh dad you're just takin sooo long on the 'puter, I think I'll take a siesta for while."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2819500094073862434?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2819500094073862434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2819500094073862434&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2819500094073862434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2819500094073862434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-need-of-more-funny-and-frank-sayings.html' title='In need of more funny and frank sayings from the mouths of babes!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/Sts45KizzpI/AAAAAAAAAEE/JfnDdV0PbZo/s72-c/Mom%27s+pics+128.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3180461387020681483</id><published>2009-10-16T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T07:27:20.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Took delivery of our first cows ever on Oaxaca!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/StiCfaxxDbI/AAAAAAAAAD8/n9K1NiFfdyc/s1600-h/cows+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/StiCfaxxDbI/AAAAAAAAAD8/n9K1NiFfdyc/s320/cows+003.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We bought 70 heifers from our friend Dave Hill to take a stab at the cattle business. Sure hope goes good for us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3180461387020681483?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3180461387020681483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3180461387020681483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3180461387020681483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3180461387020681483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/took-delivery-of-our-first-cows-ever-on.html' title='Took delivery of our first cows ever on Oaxaca!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/StiCfaxxDbI/AAAAAAAAAD8/n9K1NiFfdyc/s72-c/cows+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3043671041948682395</id><published>2009-10-16T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T06:47:58.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico. A plea to the lost souls  who murdered Benji and Luis.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I ask you ungodly inhuman murderers. Were you not born of a mother and father? Did they not love and nurture and protect you from birth. Did your mother not give all her strength and nearly die to bring you into this world? Do you not have children of your own to love and to protect? Children who if kidnapped or harmed by any man, you would be willing to die to keep them safe? How can your minds become so full of maggots that you have no conscience whatsoever? You care not for the life of another but you still would protect your own with your life. Do you really believe you will ever live in peace or be free of that horrible feeling of guilt that engulfs your debased mind with the lifestyle you live? Do you not know there is a Great Creator out of whose mouth flows eternal justice and that one day you will stand before him and be held accountable for your crimes against your fellow man? Can you not see that those around you who live by the gun, usually die by the gun? Do you not feel the longing somewhere in your heart to repent and account for your crimes? Or is your conscience so seared and black that you delight in the hellish demon within you and you live every moment to make your life even more degrading and miserable then it already is? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I ask you insects of hell. Have you not read history? Do you not know that what you sow, you reap, in this life? Do you not realize there is always someone bigger, meaner and more evil then you who will do unto you what you have done unto others? I beg you with all the energy of my soul to fall on your face and repent of your crimes before the great issuer of justice damn’s your soul to eternal torment. Change your evil hearts and beg God and man to forgive you. Spend the rest of your life serving your fellow man and maybe, just maybe Righteousness will pass by you and not require your soul in hell for eternity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3043671041948682395?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3043671041948682395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3043671041948682395&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3043671041948682395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3043671041948682395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/of-murder-mayhem-and-mexico-plea-to.html' title='Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico. A plea to the lost souls  who murdered Benji and Luis.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3955255849532611753</id><published>2009-10-11T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T17:05:28.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter Twelve. The Big Family</title><content type='html'>Rounding the corner, we could see Danny lying on the ground. Jared, Lon and a few others were already there. When I was close enough to see my brother, I had to quickly sit on the ground to avoid fainting. It was a gruesome scene. -"Call an ambulance, hurry! ordered Dad as he gathered Danny into his arms "We already did," said Jared who was now feeling guilty for loaning his bike. Danny's face was scraped and bleeding. His scalp had been torn completely off his head and was hanging there full of dirt. He was unconscious so Dad began talking to him trying to bring him back. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held his son's head and carefully cleaned the dirt from his skull. "Danny, I'm right here son, you're gonna be ok, you understand, your gonna be ok," he choked through his tears. Every few minutes Danny would jerk his body and scream a bloodcurdling yell, but he would not open his eyes or answer Dad. Several minutes went by and the police arrived and began to write a report of the accident. Dad continued to hold Danny in his arms talking to him unceasingly. Fifteen minutes and still no ambulance. "Where is the G....damn ambulance!" he screamed at the police officer. "They're on the way sir, just hold on a few more minutes," answered the policeman. "Well &amp;nbsp;we called them a half hour ago and we may not have a few more G....damn minutes!" Forty five minutes later, the ambulance arrived. Dad was furious-----------In the hospital, the doctor said that since it was a head injury and he was&amp;nbsp;unconscious, he couldn't give him anesthesia. So Dad held him down while they sewed on his head and Mom had to wait outside of the surgery room and listen to his screams. It broke her heart----- It took five hours of surgery and one hundred and ten stitches to sew up Danny's scalp. Mom stayed with him night and day for two weeks until he finally came out of his coma and began talking to her. "Danny, can you see me, this is mom," she said earnestly. "Yes," was the weak reply. "Well what do I look like?" she asked hoping he was all there. "You look like an ape," he said groggily. Guess he wasn't all there...yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3955255849532611753?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3955255849532611753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3955255849532611753&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3955255849532611753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3955255849532611753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/chapter-twelve-big-family.html' title='Chapter Twelve. The Big Family'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5965384857895497365</id><published>2009-10-11T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T10:22:18.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>California was the shizle!</title><content type='html'>I went up through the San Joaquin valley and saw all the millions of acres of almonds and grapes and walnuts and &amp;nbsp;pomegranates and...and...wow that valley is one of the most productive in the world! Stopped at several pom and grape orchards and visited with the owners, it was pretty cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5965384857895497365?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5965384857895497365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5965384857895497365&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5965384857895497365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5965384857895497365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/california-was-shizle.html' title='California was the shizle!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8385941543144262578</id><published>2009-10-05T04:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T04:31:59.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation!</title><content type='html'>I'm going to California today to check out Pom Wonderful's operation. I will be gone for a few days so don't have too much fun everyone, I'll be back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8385941543144262578?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8385941543144262578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8385941543144262578&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8385941543144262578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8385941543144262578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/vacation.html' title='Vacation!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3244296777745728232</id><published>2009-10-03T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T09:35:42.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need suggestions on a title for my book.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;It has been five years since I started writing my books and they are all...except one, nearing completion. The problem I have is that every time I read a chapter or two, I want to change it a little here and there and so I'm never going to finish if I keep this up. I should just give it to someone to edit it for me and then be&amp;nbsp;satisfied. I still haven't decided on a name either....any&amp;nbsp;suggestions? My first book is an autobiography of myself and family. We have had a very interesting life. From moving to Mexico and living in a tent for twelve years and traveling over a dirt road for five hours that resembles a cow trail to many other experiences that most would find shocking and incredible. My next book is a collection of true sayings from the mouths of little children that are downright hilarious. Each saying will be&amp;nbsp;accompanied&amp;nbsp;by a cartoon type&amp;nbsp;caricature depicting what the saying is about. My last project is a book about the&amp;nbsp;circumstances surrounding the kidnapping and assassination of two peace activists in the state of Chihuahua Mexico. The title of my first book is The Big Family, but I want to change it so I need some suggestions. The next one is titled Kids Who Tell It Like It Is. I might change that one also. Any ideas? The last one is Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico. That one I like so we might keep it that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3244296777745728232?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3244296777745728232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3244296777745728232&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3244296777745728232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3244296777745728232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-need-suggestions-on-title-for-my-book.html' title='I need suggestions on a title for my book.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-22800255171440675</id><published>2009-09-30T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T20:50:42.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter Two. A Time Warp.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;That night she slept like a baby with sweet dreams. Early in the morning as the sun was just showing its face and casting light rays off the red mountains surrounding the quaint town. The birds outside her window were singing their beautiful songs of a new day. Off in the distance a rooster crowed his late morning call. She was daydreaming of the previous night with her husband on their honeymoon. Life was serene.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;A terrible shriek jerked her to an upright position! "What in the devil was that?" she thought shaking from fright. "Had someone just fallen from the top of a tall building?" She listened for a few moments, still shivering from that awful shriek, and then it started again. It sounded like two wild hyenas fighting to the death, only there were swearwords bouncing off every wall inside the house! She crept out of bed and tiptoed to the kitchen where the gad-awful screeching was coming from. What she saw was something she would have never imagined in her life.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Tuffs of hair were strewn about the floor. In the middle of the kitchen were....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-22800255171440675?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/22800255171440675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=22800255171440675&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/22800255171440675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/22800255171440675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/chapter-two-time-warp.html' title='Chapter Two. A Time Warp.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7429803926244011582</id><published>2009-09-29T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:10:20.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/SsLnZp7nziI/AAAAAAAAAD0/xdjHfxd8Fo0/s1600-h/pics+from+iphone+oaxaca+horse+ride+123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/SsLnZp7nziI/AAAAAAAAAD0/xdjHfxd8Fo0/s320/pics+from+iphone+oaxaca+horse+ride+123.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Here I am on my horse "Firecracker." (that was his name when I bought it) We were&lt;br /&gt;riding the ranch checking out the fences and enjoying the scenery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7429803926244011582?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7429803926244011582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7429803926244011582&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7429803926244011582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7429803926244011582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/here-i-am-on-my-horse-firecracker.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/SsLnZp7nziI/AAAAAAAAAD0/xdjHfxd8Fo0/s72-c/pics+from+iphone+oaxaca+horse+ride+123.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4748359582494942915</id><published>2009-09-27T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T22:03:40.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This was NOT what she was thinking.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Winter was here and the temperatures were beginning to drop. Margaret had asked her husband to go out to the shop and &lt;em&gt;"hook up the heaters."&lt;/em&gt; A few moments later, Taylor breezed through the door, "Aunt Margaret, where is Uncle David," he asked. Without thinking she replied, "Oh, he's out in the shop &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;heating up the hookers."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4748359582494942915?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4748359582494942915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4748359582494942915&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4748359582494942915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4748359582494942915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-was-not-what-she-was-thinking.html' title='This was NOT what she was thinking.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5171445201804630902</id><published>2009-09-27T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T19:39:45.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the groove!</title><content type='html'>Hello small world. I just borrowed brother Sam's computer so I'm up and running....er, typing&amp;nbsp;again. &amp;nbsp;yyyesssss!&amp;nbsp;Have been working on the ranch a little in the last couple days. Looking for a good site for the ranch house. We jumped four deer yesterday&amp;nbsp;while&amp;nbsp;exploring the ranch on quads, it was fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5171445201804630902?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5171445201804630902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5171445201804630902&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5171445201804630902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5171445201804630902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/back-in-groove.html' title='Back in the groove!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8635454128238095224</id><published>2009-09-21T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T21:22:19.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My HP computer just threw a rod and two pistons so I'm posting from David's comp for now. This is the fourth HP comp I've bought in the last four years and believe me, I will NOT EVER buy another HP for as long as I'm still wheezing.&lt;br /&gt;I will not get to post very often until it gets fixed which might take a few weeks since we don't have a computer geek here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8635454128238095224?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8635454128238095224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8635454128238095224&amp;isPopup=true' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8635454128238095224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8635454128238095224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-hp-computer-just-threw-rod-and-two.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7237856496787091567</id><published>2009-09-19T09:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T09:08:02.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An everyday affair.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Occasionally he would hit a rut too hard and a crate would tip over, breaking a few bottles and spraying soda all over us just to make the ride more enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;It was about two o'clock in the morning and cold as..."ICE!" shouted Michael, "We're sitting on huge blocks of ice covered with sawdust!"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Shiver me rear-end!" I hollered over the ruckus, "No wonder my fandoodee is frozen stiff."&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Believe it or not, our benefactor had graciously given us the privilege of riding in his refrigerator! For SEVEN long hours no less. That's how long it took him to get us back home instead of the normal three hours. For seven long, dark, cold and noisy hours we sat on blocks of ice with visions of freezing into lolly-pops.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I tell ya, be the time we did get home, Micheal and I ran straight to Mom's oven and turned that baby on full throttle. Whipping open the door, we poked our rear-ends inside and left them there until they thawed out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7237856496787091567?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7237856496787091567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7237856496787091567&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7237856496787091567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7237856496787091567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/he-would-hit-rut-too-hard-and-crate.html' title='An everyday affair.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8428100885424910863</id><published>2009-09-19T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T21:53:06.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Family</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;By now it was dark and a storm was quickly sweeping across the prairie towards us. Michael and I crawled under the tarp on top of the smelly potatoes, while the thunder and lightning resounded all around us. Uncle Dan and Aunt Jenny and their two oldest kids, Adam and Steven, hunkered down in the cab to try and get some sleep. There was no way anyone was getting out in the darkness and rain to try and access the damage. Besides, they would need scuba gear if they did.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Sleep was impossible and an eternity passed before we heard the faint sound of motor slipping and sliding through the muck. We listened intently as the noise grew louder...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8428100885424910863?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8428100885424910863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8428100885424910863&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8428100885424910863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8428100885424910863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/big-family.html' title='The Big Family'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-9176576169431365630</id><published>2009-09-18T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T07:02:04.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another line or two. "Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico."</title><content type='html'>His captor sat in silence a few moments contemplating on what Eric had been telling him.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;He seemed troubled in his mind because Eric had lit a spark and it was now beginning to grow. Yet the other side was raging a battle also as it still wanted to continue in the lucrative habits it was accustomed to.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-9176576169431365630?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/9176576169431365630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=9176576169431365630&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/9176576169431365630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/9176576169431365630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/another-line-or-two-of-murder-mayhem.html' title='Another line or two. &quot;Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico.&quot;'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-6948248760091329544</id><published>2009-09-18T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T21:55:03.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A taste of my next book. "Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico."</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There was also a woman in the crowd whose husband had been kidnapped and she had silently paid the ransom but to her horror, they did not release him. Over a year has gone be since that horrible day and she has not heard from the killers or her beloved husband. She can only hope he is still alive, but sadly, it is not likely. She stood up before the legislature and delivered a powerful and compelling speech about the terrible state the country is in and pleaded with them to help her. She also begged them to help everyone who has had the terrible misfortune of having their child or mate snatched from their home and tortured. She lauded the LeBaron's effort and told them to never back down and have faith that God and the government would come to their aid. When she stepped down I had to wipe the tears from my cheek so earnest and heartwrenching was her plea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-6948248760091329544?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/6948248760091329544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=6948248760091329544&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6948248760091329544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/6948248760091329544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/taste-of-my-next-book.html' title='A taste of my next book. &quot;Of Murder, Mayhem and Mexico.&quot;'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1947822268117969785</id><published>2009-09-17T22:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T06:23:02.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More, more, more, I WANT MORE SAYINGS....pretty please.</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;I just know that in this gigantic family and out there in the big wide world every kid has his "moment" of fame...or infamy, with a funny or frank saying. Mothers, just reach back into the dark corners of your mind and pull out some of those fading memories of when your kid said something so funny your eyeballs nearly popped out of your head with laughter. I know you have them, you just have to put some WD -40 on that rusty old part of the brain that keeps memories and loosen up those cogs a little, then write them down and share'um with me! Dads, I'm sure you have a few that you can remember too. So quit playing warcraft or halo for a few minutes and send me some...hehe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1947822268117969785?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1947822268117969785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1947822268117969785&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1947822268117969785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1947822268117969785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/more-more-more-i-want-more-sayingpretty.html' title='More, more, more, I WANT MORE SAYINGS....pretty please.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-4002467643452998799</id><published>2009-09-17T07:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T08:05:50.488-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-4002467643452998799?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/4002467643452998799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=4002467643452998799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4002467643452998799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/4002467643452998799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/more-acurate-and-true-words-have-never.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1908120191605899365</id><published>2009-09-16T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T22:45:00.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cousin Adam took office today as the new President, or Mayor of Bavispe. He threw a big party with steak, free booze...not for us of course....and a live band with dancing till the wee hours of the morn. He will be Mayor for the next three years. This is his second term...and I hope he does a good job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1908120191605899365?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1908120191605899365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1908120191605899365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1908120191605899365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1908120191605899365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/cousin-adam-took-office-today-as-new.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3896383585731505300</id><published>2009-09-16T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T06:48:29.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's go on a Safari Adventure!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Took a friend down to the ranch yesterday. He wanted to look it over to see how much wild life there is on it. We are thinking of starting a "dude ranch" of some sort and offer a "Safari adventure" where a father and son team can come and bow hunt a buck, or a wild pig. They can also canoe down the river and go fishing and camping. We will also offer wild turkey hunts, horseback riding, mountain lion hunts, quad rides and at certain times of the year, white water rafting. So for a package price you can do several things instead of just hunting, that way the younger ones will enjoy it a lot more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3896383585731505300?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3896383585731505300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3896383585731505300&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3896383585731505300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3896383585731505300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/lets-go-on-safari-adventure.html' title='Let&apos;s go on a Safari Adventure!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7786580648211537824</id><published>2009-09-13T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T22:33:21.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Early every morning and sometimes in the evenings, I get me a hot cup of coffee and sit down at my computer and try to write at least one page in one of my three ongoing books. Well they're not books yet but I like to call them "books" anyway. I'm trying to finish my "Kids Who Tell It Like It Is" book first, so of course I focus more of my time on it. I'm still looking for a unique artist with a great sense of humor. I have at least 30 drawings I need done to describe some of my "Kids" sayings. Again the artist that comes to mind is Bill Watterson. His "Calvin" caricature reminds me so much of the kids in my book. Of course I know I'm not getting Bill to draw for me, but I know there is someone out there who can do as good or better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7786580648211537824?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7786580648211537824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7786580648211537824&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7786580648211537824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7786580648211537824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/early-every-morning-and-sometimes-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-2940916465551707588</id><published>2009-09-12T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T22:02:11.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been drawing cattle brands and looking up various ones on the web in order to choose a nice looking one to start branding our cattle. Have come up with several different ones that I like and will apply for them. Hope to get at least one or two.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Branding the poor cattle is a dirty job but someone has to do it. Still, everyone looks forward to the annual roundup, with horseback riding and camping out and all the fun involved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-2940916465551707588?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/2940916465551707588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=2940916465551707588&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2940916465551707588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/2940916465551707588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/ive-been-drawing-cattle-brands-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7224530829006554816</id><published>2009-09-11T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T21:23:18.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;My brothers and I just bought a huge ranch in Sonora Mexico. It has a&amp;nbsp;beautiful river that divides the ranch in half. The river is lined with massive cottonwood and mesquite trees. These provide ample shade to the avid fisherman on its shores. The river is full of large wide mouth bass and catfish. There are also plenty of carp and trout. Wild turkey &amp;nbsp;are abundant and there is plethora of white tail deer and hordes of wild&amp;nbsp;javelin. Sitting on the bank fishing is like heaven...sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7224530829006554816?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7224530829006554816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7224530829006554816&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7224530829006554816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7224530829006554816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/brothers-and-i-just-bought-huge-ranch.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-8007986733857718785</id><published>2009-09-11T19:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T08:02:39.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This blogging thing is strange and new to me, I feel like I'm talking to myself. Well for now I am talking to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-8007986733857718785?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/8007986733857718785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=8007986733857718785&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8007986733857718785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/8007986733857718785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-blogging-thing-is-strange-and-new.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-7322350700635313843</id><published>2009-09-10T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T19:45:22.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I &amp;nbsp;could go on forever with these hilarious kids sayings believe me. I have written over 130 pages of classic sayings from the incredible minds of children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-7322350700635313843?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/7322350700635313843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=7322350700635313843&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7322350700635313843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/7322350700635313843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-go-on-forever-with-these-hilarious.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-3949009035242042903</id><published>2009-09-10T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T07:27:34.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Definitely wouldn't want to be a board...in the next life anyway.</title><content type='html'>Here's another one I thought was hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;Gabriel, age four, was listening in on a discussion by some older folk. They were talking about what had happened that day and that they were &lt;i&gt;bored&lt;/i&gt; out of their minds. Gabriel decided to butt in and add his two cents of intelligence and said, "I don't want to be a &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;board&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, cuz then I'd get screwed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one would have a drawing of a board with a face and with two eyes looking up in alarm at a "wood screw" in forehead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-3949009035242042903?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/3949009035242042903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=3949009035242042903&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3949009035242042903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/3949009035242042903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/heres-another-one-i-thought-was.html' title='Definitely wouldn&apos;t want to be a board...in the next life anyway.'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-861432750720856893</id><published>2009-09-09T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T21:34:11.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Please make sure and include everyone in the family picture next time!</title><content type='html'>Here is a sample of "my" kids sayings.&lt;br /&gt;Jordan was the youngest in the family and I'm sure the most spoiled. He was in the living room observing the family picture when he noticed he wasn't in it.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Mom, why ain't I in this family picture?" he demanded.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"Because you were in heaven at the time honey," she answered.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"But why did you leave me up there all alone?"&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;"I didn't, you were up there with your cousins, Danny and Kacy and Mark."&lt;br /&gt;Jordan realized he had been taken advantage of and said with a look of disgust, "Oh I get it, you just left me up there&amp;nbsp;babysitting!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;This will have a drawing of a kid with wings and halo, with arms folded and indignant look on face surrounded by three crying babies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-861432750720856893?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/861432750720856893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=861432750720856893&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/861432750720856893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/861432750720856893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/here-is-sample-of-my-kids-sayings.html' title='Please make sure and include everyone in the family picture next time!'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-1935543484056294486</id><published>2009-09-08T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T08:16:19.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am also looking for a good artist who can draw similar to Bill &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Watterson's&lt;/span&gt; Calvin and Hobbes. His &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;caricatures&lt;/span&gt; perfectly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;describe&lt;/span&gt; the kids in my book. I need someone who will work for a share of the "future profits" of my book, or you tell me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-1935543484056294486?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/1935543484056294486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=1935543484056294486&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1935543484056294486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/1935543484056294486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-also-looking-for-good-artist-who.html' title=''/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3271589242122312232.post-5284787024115065677</id><published>2009-09-05T15:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T15:40:08.360-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Intro to the world</title><content type='html'>Hello out there big world. Just whipped up this blog and thought I could try and spark some interest in my soon to be published (fingers crossed) new book. I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;exaggerated&lt;/span&gt; a little there because I'm still in the process of writing it, but am getting close to the end. It is a collection of true, funny and frank sayings by little kids (and some big ones) I'm still adding sayings to it so if anyone has some that are true and funny or frank, (and original) send them my way please.&lt;br /&gt;   After each saying there will be a cartoon type picture depicting the story so it will be quite funny. Kids have a natural talent for getting right to the point  and telling it like it is. They usually don't think before speaking, they just spit it out and get on with life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3271589242122312232-5284787024115065677?l=writersoup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/feeds/5284787024115065677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3271589242122312232&amp;postID=5284787024115065677&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5284787024115065677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3271589242122312232/posts/default/5284787024115065677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://writersoup.blogspot.com/2009/09/intro-to-world.html' title='Intro to the world'/><author><name>Desertson</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468706620075612245</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nxx8Fqy3U48/S2fIbrULxDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/12EJlGHuvk0/S220/DSC05133.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
