<?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-913470228416102404</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:53:35.618-04:00</updated><category term='voting'/><category term='cooking'/><category term='therapy'/><category term='healing'/><category term='over it'/><category term='me'/><category term='readers'/><category term='twitterage'/><category term='just nice'/><category term='cheerios'/><category term='unexpected'/><category term='crush'/><category term='mini-wheats'/><category term='community'/><category term='wine'/><category term='chocolate milk'/><category term='drinking'/><category term='prizes'/><category term='welcome'/><category term='food'/><category term='planning'/><category term='conversation'/><category term='clothes'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='story starter'/><category term='ruts'/><category term='Who'/><category term='new year'/><category term='men'/><category term='oatmeal'/><category term='writing'/><category term='work'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Another Bowl of Cereal</title><subtitle type='html'>For the single woman, nothing satisfies the palate and the wallet like a bowl of cereal with cold milk.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-5715988998199654874</id><published>2009-04-15T23:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T00:37:51.332-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Batty</title><content type='html'>I have been so bored today.  I hate to say that.  My mom always told us it was "an insult to our intelligence" to say we were bored when we were kids, but I was today and I know I will be tomorrow as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was by myself and had 4 appointments scheduled throughout the day.  2 came and the other 2 canceled.  In between, there was not much to do, so I ended up going to get coffee, the post office, driving around the area and checking out a map of hiking trails nearby.  I even watched How I Met Your Mother online.  Bored. To. Tears.  I finally just left around 3 and then it took over an hour to get home, navigating downed trees and broken traffic lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is going to be more of the same, except I'll be at a different office where there are a lot of other people around.  Only thing is, my one appointment for the day is at 4:00.  What the hell am I going to do all day?  This office doesn't have GChat or Facebook access and there's only so many times I can check my email.  Sure, I'll have some time to update a few files, but that might take an hour and then I'm back to being bored again.  This is in sharp contrast to some weeks where I'm slammed with 5 or 6 appointments in one day with barely a chance to breathe and working up a sweat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I wouldn't mind a slow day or two, but this has happened the last 4 days that I've worked there.   I'm part time, so it's not like I have other responsibilities or projects to work on and it drives me batty.  I'm dreading tomorrow, sitting there, twiddling my thumbs, trying to look busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news though?  I had an interview on Tuesday!  For a real, honest to goodness full time job.  With responsiblities and even a great "Assistant Director" title!  I feel kinda low, job hunting when I've only been at my current work for 7 months, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, and getting by financially with my current work situation just isn't going to cut it for very long.  It's hard not to mention it to some of the coworkers I'm a little closer to, but it's better to keep it quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, I felt very good about the interview, confident, poised, thoughtful answers, even got a little conversation going between the five (yes, five) of us at the end of the interview.  I'm praying and crossing my fingers that I get asked back for a second interview.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that job would keep me so busy, there'd be no time to get bored!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-5715988998199654874?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/5715988998199654874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/04/batty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/5715988998199654874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/5715988998199654874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/04/batty.html' title='Batty'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-7679454952260817087</id><published>2009-03-14T01:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T01:27:06.572-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That will never be me</title><content type='html'>I think what it really boils down to is that I simply cannot fathom any guy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wanting&lt;/span&gt; to spend time with me.  Actually wanting to hold my hand or to cuddle on the couch or kiss &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; in public. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other women?  Sure!  They'd love to be with them.  They're confident and exercise and dress cute and they get pop culture references and know the rules of The Price Is Right.  They can carry on theological and political conversations without sounding like a child and don't constantly invite people to do things out of fear that they'll miss out on something.  They don't stand watching a band, holding a cup of ice water contemplating pouring it over themselves because that would be a visible indication of giving up trying anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the men want to be with the normal, self-confident, non-psychotic ones.  But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;?  No, that's just laughable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how I feel.  I know that it's wrong, but knowing is different from feeling and in my gut, I feel completely unlikeable in a romantic way.  It has been exactly 2 years since my last boyfriend broke my heart and 1 year and 6 months since I have been more than ready to move on, to start dating, to put my confidence back in the idea of romance and love.  But as the months have ticked by and I've shifted my focus from one potential to the next and gotten absolutely nothing in return, all while watching others succeed, it, well, it wears you down.  It doesn't make you feel good about yourself at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 years.  I told myself for a long time that God was just giving me time to recover and mature.  I liked to say that he was "growing me."  I liked that idea because in looking back at all of my previous relationships, most weren't especially mature and they weren't how I would want to live the rest of my life.  I needed to grow into a confident and mature woman, capable of loving and being loved without being a psycho.  That thought worked for a long time, but now I just don't know what to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I just laugh at the songs where a guy is crazy about a girl, because that's obviously not a true story.  And I don't so much look at the cutesy couples with envy, but more with bewilderment, wondering how on earth that could have happened.  And what am I doing wrong?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-7679454952260817087?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7679454952260817087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/that-will-never-be-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7679454952260817087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7679454952260817087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/that-will-never-be-me.html' title='That will never be me'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-1247643163951981531</id><published>2009-03-10T22:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T22:21:20.967-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Celing fans</title><content type='html'>I was a good roommate today and called to get a ceiling fan installed in my roommate's bedroom.  I have one and a lot of the other apartments here have them in both rooms, so I figured it couldn't hurt to ask.  She was happy and wondered when it would be installed (not sure) and did I ask about getting our ancient a/c unit replaced?  No, because I'm 99.9% sure the answer will be no.  If I'm here when they install the fan, I'll ask.  Otherwise, she can call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, my apartment complex is owned by the church across the street.  They started buying up the condos about 10 years ago and renting them as apartments through a rental management company until all of them are bought (there's 23 left) and they can tear the place down for athletic fields or a parking lot or whatever else they feel is needed.  The church is already ginormous, with buildings on both sides of the road and a brand new parking deck and student ministry building with a coffee shop.  Oh, and it's my church :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, what I'm getting at is that while the management company keeps the place livable, there's no denying these apartments are old.  Built just after WWII from what I've heard.  And knowing that they're just going to be torn down eventually, the church is very unlikely to fund things like replacing an a/c unit that was installed in 1972 (it says so right on the thing!)  I get that.  And as a result, I'm satisfied to suffer just a little bit and use fan and open windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and tonight?  I came home and she was turning down the air.  I was already in a pissy mood and pretty much snapped at her and said something very passive agressive about how I don't make a lot of money and she said she understood.  Whatever.  I fixed a bowl of cereal and came up to my room to sit in the dark in order to conserve energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And ate half a sleeve of Thin Mints.  Now I just feel ill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-1247643163951981531?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1247643163951981531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/celing-fans.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1247643163951981531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1247643163951981531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/celing-fans.html' title='Celing fans'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-1808404510995345214</id><published>2009-03-08T23:53:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T00:04:55.845-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm happy to just open the windows and sleep nekkid</title><content type='html'>I miss living alone.  My roommate is ok, we get along fine, but she's always there and always wants to talk and worst of all, we have very different thoughts regarding the thermostat.  It's a good thing I'm a nice person and weak and don't stand up to her or we'd have some serious issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my last 2 apartments, I don't think I turned on the air conditioning until July.  Keep in mind that I live in the south where it gets miserably hot and humid in the summer and when those dog days hit, I'm more than happy to pump the cold air through.  I've been fortunate enough to have a very well shaded apartment close to a river, so the air stayed a little cooler and I'd just open the windows and then the next one was basically a basement and didn't get very hot (But I learned that the humidity can cause a nasty mold problem if the air's not running.  Oops.)  I'd usually shut the windows early July and enjoy a couple months of AC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's MARCH 8!  We're in the middle of a warm spell and it got up to 77 today, so she comes home at 11:45pm and asks if we can turn the air on just a little bit.  This is the same girl who wanted the heat on the second it dipped below 65 outside and complains of being cold all the time, as though it's my fault and I have some control over the weather or our antiquated heating and air system.  She can't sleep when she's cold.  But apparently she also gets really hot at night and so she needs the air on.  Yeah, this is the same person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's going to be awful to be around come late April when it really does get warm and this apartment doesn't have good air flow, so it can become warm very quickly indoors.  Me and my wallet prefer to suffer with the windows open and a ceiling fan, but she gets paid more than minimum wage and can afford to run that horrible, energy-sucking thing.  Not sure how to handle this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-1808404510995345214?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1808404510995345214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-happy-to-just-open-windows-and-sleep.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1808404510995345214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1808404510995345214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-happy-to-just-open-windows-and-sleep.html' title='I&apos;m happy to just open the windows and sleep nekkid'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-6620905681852564717</id><published>2009-03-07T00:46:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T01:10:58.147-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Revelation and Weirdness</title><content type='html'>Tonight was weird.  And it helped me to have a revelation.  Revelation first, then weirdness:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep saying I want a real relationship, something meaningful that grows over time that will last a life time, but when I really am honest with myself, I just want the physical part.  I miss so desperately the physical part of a relationship - the hand on my back, the arms around waists, the intertwining fingers, the grazing fingertips on skin, the lips, the gaze, the touch.  It's been 2 years since I had any of that and I need it so badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quite honestly feel like I have an idea of what some of the kids I work with who have autism experience.  Many of them crave that physical stimulation, the box of beads to bury their arms in or that vibrating toy that feels so good on their face.  Some of them can only focus if I have a tight grip around them on my lap while we play on the computer.  I wonder if there's ever been a study done on singles and the craving of physical stimulation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my revelation.  If I could get away with a one-night stand or just making out with someone, I would.  I even briefly considered running off to Vegas for a few days and pretending to be someone I'm not.  But I think I just have to suffer.  End of revelation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weirdness was as follows.  Number one, I'm exhausted.  I'm working too hard and not getting enough sleep.  So I was going to call it a night tonight and stay home and sleep, but then I got word of a party in my complex and just took a nap before heading over. Great!  Throw on a t-shirt and flip-flops and go hang out for a chill evening.  Well, this party turned out to be drinking a beer, running home to change, going downtown for an overpriced meal, and going to part of a concert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this was me and 3 guys, two of whom I'd consider crushes, the other one I'm pretty sure had a crush on me a few months ago.  I had a good time, dont' get me wrong, but it's making me see how different I am from college-me.  I should have been ecstatic to be going out with these three guys, I should have had my A-game on, but the most I could do was dress a little attractively, drink beer, and talk about cheesy pick-up lines.  My god, where have I gone?  I'm annoyed with myself.  I don't like myself.  I feel totally socially inept and lame.  I don't even remember how to flirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when it hit me that I want to flirt not to get a date or hang out more, I want to flirt to get one of those 2 guys to go home with me or invite me in for a drink (it's plausible, we all live in the same complex) and make out on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was much more weirdness, including letting down several girl friends by saying I wasn't going to the concert but then showing up with the boys and then leaving early, and realizing that I was in the bar where the last guy I had any form of intimacy with used to work, and realizing that I don't know how to carry on a conversation, and remembering blue glass, but I'm still processing it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on that note, I'm going to sleep so that I can get up and work all day tomorrow.  Shoot me now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-6620905681852564717?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6620905681852564717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/revelation-and-weirdness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6620905681852564717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6620905681852564717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/03/revelation-and-weirdness.html' title='Revelation and Weirdness'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-66705438826402219</id><published>2009-02-14T21:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T21:33:48.077-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='over it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='readers'/><title type='text'>VDay, 9:17pm, Pajamas</title><content type='html'>I wasn't going to do this.  But here I am, 9:17 on Valentine's Day night, in my pajamas, sitting in the dark, torn between crying or congratulating myself.  Crying because I'm letting this stupid day get to me, or rejoicing because I took the step last night of giving up hope and know I must move on.  Crying because some dumb movie just told me not to give up hope but applauding myself for not staying and wallowing with other single girls in a bottle of wine because frankly I'm just tired and I'm tired of rehashing who likes who and who's the latest crush and how to get them and really who gives a fuck?  I'm including myself in that statement.  I'm over myself.  Over the obsessing and the infatuation and the waiting and hoping and beating myself up.  I'm sick and tired of it.  It's not going to happen and I need to accept that.  Last night, I came to the conclusion that I can still have adventure in my life, I just need to stop thinking that love is going to come along with it.  I can be that cool old single lady with long silver hair who owns little and owes nothing and gives everything and sees everywhere.  I'd need a dog.  And lots of bracelets and long skirts and a beat up pickup truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___&lt;br /&gt;PS - I just noticed people are actually reading my blog!  I had no idea!  You're even leaving comments.  I apologize for neglecting you, dear readers, and will try to pay more attention to you from now on. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-66705438826402219?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/66705438826402219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/vday-917pm-pajamas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/66705438826402219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/66705438826402219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/vday-917pm-pajamas.html' title='VDay, 9:17pm, Pajamas'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-7478661658680885201</id><published>2009-02-09T08:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T08:41:40.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a name="Cuddle"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#0066cc;"&gt;I should never watch "Living With the Mek" and Discovery Channel's "Sexual Attraction" just before bed . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a name="Cuddle"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#0066cc;"&gt;Cuddle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#0066cc;"&gt;To       dream that you are cuddling with someone, indicates your need for physical       and/or emotional contact. Do not overlook the obvious meaning of this       dream which suggests your heart's desire for that particular person. Also       consider the symbolism of that person you are cuddling with and determine       how you need to acknowledge, accept, and unify those qualities in       yourself.  (I like this one, btw, especially since I was cuddling with A and he wanted me there.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a name="Couch"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#0066cc;"&gt;Couch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#0066cc;"&gt;To       see or dream that you are on a couch, represents rest, relaxation,       laziness or boredom. It may also mean you need to clear you mind and       thoughts. Consider also who is on the couch with you as the dream may also       have sexual connotations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a name="Hill"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#0066cc;"&gt;Hill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#0066cc;"&gt;To       dream that you are climbing a hill, signifies your struggles in achieving       a goal. To dream that you are standing on top of a hill, signifies that       you have succeeded in your endeavors or that you have now have the       resources to complete a task at hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#0066cc;"&gt;Intruder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#0066cc;"&gt;To       see an intruder in your dream, represents your feelings of guilt. Consider       also what unfamiliar feelings or thoughts may be breaking into your peace       of mind.  Alternatively, an intruder symbolizes self-indulgent       behavior or unwanted sexual attention.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;"&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 8px;" align="left"&gt;       &lt;/p&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a name="Cult"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-7478661658680885201?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7478661658680885201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/dreams.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7478661658680885201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7478661658680885201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-6320425224855189726</id><published>2009-02-08T00:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T00:48:27.962-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss sex</title><content type='html'>You wanna know the worst part of having been completely and utterly single for the last 2 years?  Not the simple fact that I'm single, no, I can deal with that.  I have a lot of fun on my own and don't have to be with someone to be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part is knowing how long I've gone without sex.  And how long I will continue to go without it since I've promised myself I won't have it again until I'm married.  Considering that I haven't even been on an effing date in 2 years, it's going to be a looooong time before I get to experience that again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like sex.  Really like it.  I guess most people do, but remembering how much I enjoyed it seems to be magnified now that I know what I'm missing.  Would I be better off if I didn't know?  No, definitely not.  But, it is a particularly painful form of torture to know exactly what I am missing and want it so desperately again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just not fair!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-6320425224855189726?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6320425224855189726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-miss-sex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6320425224855189726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6320425224855189726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-miss-sex.html' title='I miss sex'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-4214287066812233016</id><published>2009-01-18T18:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T18:24:41.947-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>Girl with Silver Coat and Clementines</title><content type='html'>Girl with Silver Coat and Clementines&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You look tired.&lt;br /&gt;Is your bag heavy?&lt;br /&gt;Your heels click down the sidewalk – bag in one hand, a box of clementines in the other;&lt;br /&gt;Purse slung over your shoulder and worn out day old hair pulled back.&lt;br /&gt;A smile appears on your face as you walk past my window.&lt;br /&gt;A row of windows, with people reading inside, drinking coffee.&lt;br /&gt;They might be watching.&lt;br /&gt;They might be thinking.&lt;br /&gt;They might even wonder.&lt;br /&gt;Your smile says it’s ok, you don’t need help.&lt;br /&gt;You’ve got it on your own.&lt;br /&gt;A strong and independent woman&lt;br /&gt;Walking proudly in nice heels&lt;br /&gt;You look confident, you look nice.&lt;br /&gt;You can carry groceries for one.&lt;br /&gt;Groceries for you, carried by you.&lt;br /&gt;Silver jacket, black shoes, smile, you’re fine.&lt;br /&gt;But isn’t your bag heavy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first lame attempt at poetry in nearly 20 years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-4214287066812233016?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/4214287066812233016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/girl-with-silver-coat-and-clementines.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/4214287066812233016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/4214287066812233016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/girl-with-silver-coat-and-clementines.html' title='Girl with Silver Coat and Clementines'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-2027392729283884620</id><published>2009-01-05T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T10:11:00.685-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='healing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Rebuilding Burned Bridges</title><content type='html'>Last night I asked an old friend to come back into my life.  Things didn't end well with this friend over three years ago, but I'd like to believe we have matured a bit and are capable of at least being aware of each other's lives, if not interacting every day.  I've missed this person terribly.  I think about them several times a week at least, just wondering how they are and if there's any hope of salvaging what was once a true friendship and even partnership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that possible?  At the ripe-old age of 29, is it conceivable that two people who haven't known each other since before entering the adult world can have a second chance?  Can mend the wounds from harsh words and painful actions?  Can find the joy and lightness and easiness that was once shared between two friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've done all I know how to do.  I wait with bated breath for the reply, but still have peace of mind that I've done my part.  I'll let you know how it goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-2027392729283884620?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/2027392729283884620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/rebuilding-burned-bridges.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/2027392729283884620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/2027392729283884620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/rebuilding-burned-bridges.html' title='Rebuilding Burned Bridges'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-6666867914389952907</id><published>2009-01-04T22:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:47:11.356-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who'/><title type='text'>Waggly Fingers</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I think I'm getting old.  My knees and feet and ankles are killing me after a full day of work yesterday.  I hear a pop every time I go down a stair and just ache when I go back up.  They haven't been the same since a really long, fast hike about 7 years ago.  Wah, I know.  Someday I'll go see a doctor about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Speaking of Doctors, I found out, just in time, almost right as I walked in the door to work.  Thank heavens for cell phones with internet!  And for Twitter!  What did I do before it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And here he is, number Eleven:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-431" title="pdrwho3_1215574c1" src="http://mentallyrehearsed.wordpress.com/files/2009/01/pdrwho3_1215574c1.jpg?w=300" mce_src="http://mentallyrehearsed.wordpress.com/files/2009/01/pdrwho3_1215574c1.jpg?w=300" alt="pdrwho3_1215574c1" height="187" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Matt Smith.  26.  Kinda funny looking (I know that's mean, but you were thinking it too).  Weird hair.  Young.  Hmm, not sure how I feel about this. . . Those were my initial thoughts and I just wasn't pleased with the selection at all.  But then I got home (after 8.5 hours on my feet selling sleeping bags and stoves) and watched the BBC's Doctor Who Confidential special (I have my ways) and found myself grinning ear to ear during his &lt;a href="http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Zog-6SrGxE0" mce_href="http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Zog-6SrGxE0"&gt;brief interview&lt;/a&gt;.  He's crazy!  Long, run-on sentences with abrupt pauses, wild hand gestures, waves his fingers in the air, completely bonkers!  He's a bit younger than we were expecting, but I think I'm going to like him.  And, even though I said he was a little funny looking, that could be a good quality for a character who is actually an alien.  Besides, he does clean up well:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;img class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-432" title="doctor-who-matt-smith1" src="http://mentallyrehearsed.wordpress.com/files/2009/01/doctor-who-matt-smith1.jpg?w=172" mce_src="http://mentallyrehearsed.wordpress.com/files/2009/01/doctor-who-matt-smith1.jpg?w=172" alt="doctor-who-matt-smith1" height="300" width="172" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Mmm, glasses.  Yeah, he'll do ;-) &lt;a href="http://crookedshore.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/doctor_who___david_tennant_by_jennicat5.jpg" mce_href="http://crookedshore.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/doctor_who___david_tennant_by_jennicat5.jpg"&gt;Remind you of anyone?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I have not seen or read Twilight, but like many people, I thought this Matt guy looks a bit like some of the characters I've seen pictures of.  And I immediately began to speculate that they're trying to reach a similar audience that Twilight has been so wildly popular with.  I mean, he's got that look AND he's young, so the teenage girls are going to swoon, while us 20-somethings will appreciate his, um, charm.  Now, I'm not sure how the 50-year old males are included in this picture, but I'm sure it works out some way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ok, that should be the last of my Doctor Who posts for a while.  You probably have no idea what I'm talking about anyway :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In other news, I ran out of cereal 2 days ago and have had to eat toast for breakfast!  The horror!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-6666867914389952907?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6666867914389952907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/waggly-fingers.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6666867914389952907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6666867914389952907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/waggly-fingers.html' title='Waggly Fingers'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-3886720666360539127</id><published>2009-01-03T10:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:47:27.584-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Who'/><title type='text'>Learning to Count to Eleven</title><content type='html'>Well, I posted it on the other blog and was told it was: "interesting" by my parents, "depressing" by one friend, and "wonderful to read" by another friend.  I don't know what kind of reaction I was hoping for, probably nothing really, but whatever.  It's out there and now it's 2009!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of new things, the Eleventh Doctor for Doctor Who &lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/s4/news/latest/090102_news_01"&gt;will be announced today&lt;/a&gt;!  In the UK.  At about the time I have to leave for work.  In the US.  My plan is to hit refresh on several sites I've pulled up for the occasion as I'm walking out the door in hopes that I won't have to spend the next 8 hours in agonizing curiosity.  I don't consider myself a hardcore obsessive fan, but I definitely enjoy it and try to keep up with the big news and well, this is BIG!  (Maybe I'll get a British customer and we can talk Doctor Who. Unlikely.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.  I can't believe this weird holiday schedule bliss is almost over.  Hardly any work the last few weeks and now I have to work on a Saturday?!  Not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, since I've enjoyed Ten so much and will miss him terribly . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1wxHeWaXa_I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1wxHeWaXa_I&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-3886720666360539127?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3886720666360539127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/learning-to-count-to-eleven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/3886720666360539127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/3886720666360539127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2009/01/learning-to-count-to-eleven.html' title='Learning to Count to Eleven'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-6995522245115659383</id><published>2008-12-31T00:36:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:48:41.640-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new year'/><title type='text'>2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I'm a little nervous about posting this is my other blog, the one that my parents and friends read.  I'm afraid they're going to think I seriously depressed.  So I'm posting it here until tomorrow night, then I'll see how I feel about going "public" with it . . .&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This time last year I had just finished packing up my entire apartment in Knoxville and moved into the RC in Atlanta.  I was reveling in living so close to the church, the gym, and my internship.  I had a new roommate, a new place to decorate, and I was almost finished with school.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I just went back and read a few entries from the next few months and it is very noticeable to me what I left out.  In my constant efforts to focus on the positive in any situation and not dwell on the negative, to convince everyone, myself included, that everything was or would be alright, my entries from January through April 2008 in no way reflect the emotional turmoil I experienced.  And in many ways, am still experiencing the aftershocks of.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This time last year, I felt like I had the whole world in front of me.  I was excited about my career, the people I would be helping, the worlds I'd be opening up to patients and their families, the adventures, the job I was sure to be offered.  But by the end of April, after three months of crying my way home every day from the stress, I just wanted to sleep for days.  Weeks.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I enjoyed some down time.  Volunteered, worked out, went to the beach, read, cleaned.  A month of that was planned.  The additional 3 months it took to find work were not.  I passed up an extraordinary opportunity in order to stay close to home and friends and save money.  But I eventually took 3 jobs which use my skills and education in some capacity and with that I charge forward.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Am I where I thought I'd be this time last year?  No.  Nowhere near it.  But as always, I try to focus on the positive - friends, family, community, the things I do have rather than what I wish I had.  Financial security, a full-time job, health insurance, benefits, a relationship, opportunities to travel, to volunteer stress-free, professional growth, everyday adventure.  I had these things once upon a time, then I took a major detour somewhere.*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't make New Year's resolutions anymore, but if nothing else, this year I want to get back a little of that me that got left behind on the detour.  I'd like to think that 2009 will be a year of self-discovery and self-recovery.  &lt;/p&gt;Now, how about some champagne?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Actually, I know exactly where that detour happened.  It was when I made the financially and professionally foolish decision to return to school for a degree in a dead-end, disrespected, misunderstood profession.  But that would just hurt too many feelings, so I'll be leaving that out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-6995522245115659383?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6995522245115659383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/2009.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6995522245115659383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6995522245115659383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/2009.html' title='2009'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-1048925022848792769</id><published>2008-12-21T07:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:50:03.401-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>The morning after</title><content type='html'>About that wine . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-1048925022848792769?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1048925022848792769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/morning-after.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1048925022848792769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1048925022848792769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/morning-after.html' title='The morning after'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-8495560931153367212</id><published>2008-12-10T01:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T01:37:52.541-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twitterage'/><title type='text'>Twitter-wah?</title><content type='html'>I don't like to give into mainstream hype.  I refuse to read or watch Harry Potter* until the day I have kids and they tie me down and make me read it to them.  I resisted Facebook for over a year after I heard about it.  I haven't read Twilight, I'm not liking The Shack, and 40 Days of Purpose did a whole lot of nothing for me.  I returned a brand new Blackberry after 3 days because it was just way more than I need, I have no idea how to effectively use YouTube, and I rarely get pop culture references unless they have something to do with the time period of about 1990-1995 when I actually cared and tried to fit in (aka the awkward early teen years).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today I joined Twitter.  I gave in.  I was curious, to be honest, what all the hype was about.  But I don't understand it!  I write stuff, but who sees it (much like this blog)?  How do I find people to follow?  Am I supposed to make a profile?  And what's with all the # and @ and %$*?  Ohhh, and I HATE text speak, or whatever you call it - u, ur, l8tr, idk - drives me batty.  Please tell me I don't have to resort to sounding like a 9-year old hyped up about the lastest HSM or whatever is the hot thing of the nano-second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, I sound like an old geezer.  I recall feeling the same way about Facebook, but I finally got the hang of it after week or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For what it's worth, I'm going to give it a try.  I'd tell you to find me there, but I'm not even sure how to do that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update: Just search for "cerealgirl."  Heh, I might get the hang of this newfangled thing after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I read the first one and just wasn't impressed.  You may throw things at me now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-8495560931153367212?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8495560931153367212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/twitter-wah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/8495560931153367212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/8495560931153367212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/twitter-wah.html' title='Twitter-wah?'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-1271506034697598476</id><published>2008-12-02T02:32:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T03:03:21.168-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story starter'/><title type='text'>Story Starter 1 - The Hot Farmer &amp; His Duck</title><content type='html'>2:32 AM.  I'm not asleep.  I have lots of work tomorrow, a gym to get to, a vote to cast, a chapter in a book to read, notes to make for my next counseling session, but I'm awake.  I've wanted to start some creative writing, a bug that I've had in my brain for a few years now, but have never really known where to start.  Then I discovered &lt;a href="http://teacher.scholastic.com/activities/storystarters/storystarter1.htm"&gt;Story Starters from scholastic.com&lt;/a&gt;.  And now I'm pleased to introduce what I hope will be a regular feature around here . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: center; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Story Starters For A Sleepless Night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Tonight the generator produced:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;"A birthday message to a hot farmer whose best friend is a duck."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say it's your birthday, you gorgeous thing&lt;br /&gt;I've written a message cause I'd rather not sing&lt;br /&gt;I hope you have fun and get lots of luck&lt;br /&gt;But come on, can't you get rid of that ratty old duck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that you like him and he's special to you&lt;br /&gt;But his wings fell off before you were two!&lt;br /&gt;You're a grown man now, and a fine one at that&lt;br /&gt;Ditch that thing and let's go make that haystack flat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Hahaha!  Wow that's pretty rotten!  But it was fun :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-1271506034697598476?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1271506034697598476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/story-starter-1-hot-farmer-his-duck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1271506034697598476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1271506034697598476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/12/story-starter-1-hot-farmer-his-duck.html' title='Story Starter 1 - The Hot Farmer &amp; His Duck'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-3302087242386835615</id><published>2008-11-29T19:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T19:24:11.603-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheerios'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>I'm Wearing My Superwoman Tights</title><content type='html'>Nights like tonight, I'm glad I'm single.  I just got home from a longish day selling stuff at one of my 3 jobs, an outdoor recreation retail establishment, which isn't a bad way to spend the day, but damn I feel like an old lady with my aching back and feet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second I got home, I put on my "my roommate's not home, I'm keeping the thermostat at 65" pajamas: thick bright blue tights, scrubs, a navy blue silk undershirt, and an orange tshirt.  I'll probably throw on my green wool socks and sherpa hat before the night is over.  Now, come on, who wouldn't want to fall in love with and marry THAT?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the agenda tonight?&lt;br /&gt;1) eat Thanksgiving leftovers (I finally ran out of Honey Nut Cheerios)&lt;br /&gt;2) get some work done for one of my other 3 jobs (coordinating stuff)&lt;br /&gt;3) laundry&lt;br /&gt;4) hot cider with rum&lt;br /&gt;5) 13 Going On 30&lt;br /&gt;6) bed by midnight (or else I'll turn into a horrible bitchy woman in the morning)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See?  I've got no time for a man in my life.  At least not tonight . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-3302087242386835615?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/3302087242386835615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-wearing-my-superwoman-tights.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/3302087242386835615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/3302087242386835615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-wearing-my-superwoman-tights.html' title='I&apos;m Wearing My Superwoman Tights'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-1676327263061155578</id><published>2008-11-28T12:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T00:49:47.753-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>The ABC's of Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://coalminersgd.blogspot.com/"&gt;Coal Miner's Grandaughter&lt;/a&gt; for this one that lets me be a little lazy today and post without thinking too hard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Accent &lt;/span&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;I grew up in the south, but in a metropolitan area so I don't think I have much of an accent.  However, I've noticed that when I spend an extended amount of time with people who do have think accents, or if I'm really tired or have been drinking a lot, I suddenly adopt a bit of a southern belle twang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Breakfast &lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/span&gt; Cereal, of course!  Honey Nut Cheerios, Kashi Go Lean, Frosted Mini-Wheats, and granola are among my favorites.  I use soy milk on my cereal and usually just take a giant swig out of the orange juice container rather than dirty up a glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chore I Don't Care For&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;Washing dishes and laundry.  My future prince charming will list these as his two favorite chores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dog or Cat&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; a cat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Essential Electronics&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; MacBook, cell phone, iPod&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite Perfume&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; Are you kidding?  I can't afford perfume!  Does deodorant count?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Gold or Silver&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;Silver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Handbag &lt;/span&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;something cheap from Target that's last me 3+years as my only purse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Insomnia &lt;/span&gt;- Let's see, I got in bed at 10:30 to check email and turn off the light and I've just written 2 blog posts, checked facebook and both email addresses several times, checked up on the Shiba Inu puppies, and then got back up to take out my contacts and pee.  And it's now 12:30 am.  Not exactly insomnia, but I certainly don't get enough sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Job Title&lt;/span&gt; - therapist, coordinator, sales person, friend, neighbor, volunteer, crazy busy lady&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kids &lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/span&gt; 0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Living Arrangements&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;small 2 bedroom, 1 bath apartment in the most wonderful n with a roommate who is engaged&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Most Admirable Trait&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; I'm empathetic, almost too much so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Naughtiest Childhood Behavior&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;fighting with my brothers when I was supposed to be babysitting.  That stopped as soon as they got bigger than me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Overnight Hospital Stays&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; 0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Phobias &lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/span&gt; getting stabbed in the back, some heights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Quote &lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/span&gt; "I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way." - Carl Sandburg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reason to smile&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;good friends in a warm kitchen, sharing over a homecooked meal or a glass of wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Siblings &lt;/span&gt;- the best brother a girl could ask for, and another one whom I can't wait to see again in heaven one day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Time I wake up&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; alarm: 6:30, me: 7:15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Unusual Talent or Skill&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; I can cross my legs and swing between my arms.  I used to be able to play the piano over my head, sitting under it backwards, with my hands crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Vegetable I Refuse to Eat&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;brussel sprouts, cooked carrots&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Worst Habit&lt;/span&gt; -&lt;/span&gt; easily distracted, realizing I wasn't listening until it's too late&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;X-Rays&lt;/span&gt; - both arms&lt;/span&gt;, two separate occasions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yummy Stuff&lt;/span&gt; - raw oysters, tirimasu, fresh berries, dark chocolate, hot apple cider, Bailey's on the rocks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Zoo Animal I Like Most&lt;/span&gt; - &lt;/span&gt;orangutan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-1676327263061155578?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1676327263061155578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/abcs-of-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1676327263061155578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1676327263061155578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/abcs-of-me.html' title='The ABC&apos;s of Me'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-9098791904428284369</id><published>2008-11-26T23:42:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T00:05:50.009-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='conversation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Please Let There Be A Next Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q5YVxTf948I/SS4qNDWuu3I/AAAAAAAAAA0/-x8GHDmCZRY/s1600-h/pasta-dinner-authentic-ital.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q5YVxTf948I/SS4qNDWuu3I/AAAAAAAAAA0/-x8GHDmCZRY/s320/pasta-dinner-authentic-ital.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273198617424739186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I need to figure out a regular blogging schedule.  I suppose that finding time to write is a little like finding time to eat breakfast.  Except that I can't grab my computer and write on the way to work like I can a can of "delicious" SlimFast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, tonight I went to dinner with a friend and couldn't stop smiling the whole way home.  Yes, this friend happens to be a guy and I happen to rather enjoy spending time with him.  Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until just after he moved 4 states and 12 hours away, which makes spending time with him very difficult.  Thank goodness for holidays and that his family is all still here, so he visits occassionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time he came home, everyone wanted to see him and the most I got was a group lunch where he sat barely within shouting distance, but this time I got him all to myself over a wonderful pasta dinner.  Just like when I visited him up north, we talked for hours.  HOURS!  I don't do that!  I am incapable of carrying on conversation with anyone for that long, being an introvert and living in my own world more often than not.  But this particular friend?  Well, he seems to bring out something different in me and I like it.  I like having rambling, meandering conversations that look like the branches of an old oak tree or a river that just keeps on going and never stops.  I think we could have talked all night, at least I know I could have and I'd like to think he felt the same way.  Even as I drove home I kept thinking of things I meant to ask him about but will have to save until we talk again.  Sadly he had to make it an early night so that he can run a race tomorrow morning, but I have hope that there will be a "next time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's an odd feeling not to be obsessing over someone, but rather just enjoying their company and never wanting the conversation to end.  To not want to rush things or get ahead of myself, but instead let things marinate and see where they go, if they go anywhere at all.  To end the night with a hug and a "see you in a few days" and get in the car with a contented sigh and dreamy smile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-9098791904428284369?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/9098791904428284369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/please-let-there-be-next-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/9098791904428284369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/9098791904428284369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/please-let-there-be-next-time.html' title='Please Let There Be A Next Time'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q5YVxTf948I/SS4qNDWuu3I/AAAAAAAAAA0/-x8GHDmCZRY/s72-c/pasta-dinner-authentic-ital.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-1704305289776183568</id><published>2008-11-11T00:23:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T00:47:38.306-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prizes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='just nice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unexpected'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crush'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wine'/><title type='text'>The Unexpected Prize</title><content type='html'>Have you ever bought a box of cereal and found an unexpected prize inside?  I'm not talking about the box of cereal you bought &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; for the decoder ring or 3-D puzzle of Johnny Depp.  No, I'm talking about the regular old box of cereal that you bought because it's what you like, and then one early morning as you pour your breakfast and barely keep it in the bowl because it's 6:30 and you just went to bed 5 hours ago, a really amazing toy falls out.  Something you could actually use!  Like a spoon with Indiana Jones or a necklace.  There you are, just going about your business, and you get an awesome, completely unexpected prize.  Pretty sweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was one of those nights for me.  On Monday nights, my group of friends in our apartment complex gathers to drink wine and watch football.  We usually go to one couples' apartment, but they needed a break this week so I volunteered to host.  I sent out a great invitation (if I may say so myself), bought a bottle of wine, made bruschetta, lit candles, and washed the bathroom towels and rugs*  Oh, and I even remembered to turn on the football game.  We were ready to party!  Ready for the hilarity and bonding and community that we experience every Monday night!  Ready for wine and football!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One person showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made enough bruschetta for 10 people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's the best part: the one person that showed up?  Yeah, it was the crush.  Mr. "I've Known Him For 5 Months and He's So Not Into Me."  And so we spent the next 2 hours watching the game and talking and drinking wine and beer and it was nice.  When he left, it suddenly hit me what had just happened!  I'd been wanting that moment for months and I finally got it!  And you know what?  It was nice, just nice.  Not earth-shattering, not "omigod i'm inlovewithhim," not uncomfortable, not amazingly easy . . . just nice.  And that's awesome!  I can live with that.  My little unexpected treat?  I can &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;use&lt;/span&gt; that.  Use it to continue building our friendship.  Use it to prove to myself that I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt; capable of being a normal human being around him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best part was still to come: He left his keys ;-)  So that means I got to chase him down and we talked a while longer.  Almost as good as getting &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; prizes in your cereral box!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Word to the wise: Don't wash light green towels and red bath mats together, no matter how big a hurry you're in and how many times they've been washed before.  At least I have an excuse to buy new towels.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-1704305289776183568?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/1704305289776183568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/unexpected-prize.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1704305289776183568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/1704305289776183568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/unexpected-prize.html' title='The Unexpected Prize'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-7111010456993692614</id><published>2008-11-06T20:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:06:07.329-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ruts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cheerios'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='therapy'/><title type='text'>The Cheerio Rut</title><content type='html'>Hey there, cereal lovers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cereal lately has been in a bit of a rut.  I'm stuck on Honey Nut Cheerios for at least the next 2 weeks because it was buy-one-get-one-free.  It's not that I don't like Honey Nut Cheerios, it would just be nice to mix it up with a little granola one morning, or even some Cinnamon Toast Crunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruts.  Ever been in a rut?  I'm in a bit of one in my life right now.  I won't bore you, dear Cereal reader, with all the details, but things aren't changing.  In fact, they only seem to be getting worse.  Not in a "oh no, the walls are crashing down and my life is over" kind of way, thank goodness.  No, it's more that I'm in a place I'm not really happy with and I can't seem to make it better on my own.  I pray, I read inspirational quotes and the occasional self-help book or web site, I turn to the Bible, I write, give myself pep talks.  I even try to spend more time with friends to convince myself that I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt; happy with where I'm at.  But, um, I'm not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so today I took a deep breath and called a counseling center.  A therapist.  Someone to remind me that I'm a decent human being and to point me back in the right direction.  It was a scary call, I won't lie.  But when I hung up, I knew I'd done the right thing.  I was scared, relieved, even excited, but I was not embarrassed.  Doing this on my own isn't getting any result, it's time to call in reinforcement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if you're a new Cereal reader, please don't think that this blog is all about me and my dark days and my upcoming therapy sessions.  I'm not that dismal!  I'm actually a pretty normal woman. . . Well, define "normal."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Honey Nut Cheerio rut may be here for a while longer, but I'm getting out of my personal rut and I'm excited!  How do you get out of ruts?  Out of those dark, icky times?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-7111010456993692614?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7111010456993692614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/cheerio-rut.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7111010456993692614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7111010456993692614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/cheerio-rut.html' title='The Cheerio Rut'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-6014902673256299413</id><published>2008-11-02T21:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T21:34:37.347-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crush'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>When Does Hope Become A Bad Thing?</title><content type='html'>I've been without cereal for the last few days.  Between Halloween festivities and sleeping in and volunteer work, there just hasn't been time to get to the grocery store for milk.  It was a toss-up: grocery shop or finish making my Halloween costume?  The costume won, hands down.  And I have to say, it was a pretty good one! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a little ambitious this year and decided to actually SEW parts of my costume.  Bad idea.  Well, actually it was a good idea, just one that should have started a few weeks earlier since I don't know how to read a pattern or sew anything beyond a basic pillow.  But it turned out pretty well, if I may say so myself, and I got a lot of compliments on it.  No, I won't tell you what it was.  Stop asking ;-) (Name that movie!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halloween night was one of those nights when I forget how old I am.  When I forget that there are consequences to drinking copious amounts of alcohol and want to kick myself the next day for doing some pretty stupid things in front of people I really don't want to be doing stupid things in front of.  When I suddenly relapse to college behavior.  I pretty much made an outright fool of myself in front of my current hard-core crush and my only redeeming hope is that he was just as gone as I was and doesn't remember what an idiot I acted like.  He's still speaking to me, so there's hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope.  When it comes to crushes, when does hope become infatuation?  Obsession?  5 months we've known each other.  5 months we've run in the same circles and seen each other all the time in groups of our friends.  5 months I've been interested.  5 months he's been friendly, but shown no romantic interest.  And yet I still hold onto hope that maybe one day I'll do just the right thing or say just the right words to pique his interest and he'll want to spend time with just me.  Everyone else knows I like him and thinks he'd be a great catch.  When will he realize this?  And why did he leave the concert tonight without even saying goodbye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends, let me remind you that I am a 29-year old woman.  Why, then, do I feel as if I'm behaving like a 14-year old girl?  Surely I am not the only grown woman out there who goes through this kind of thing.  Do you have any painful crushes or nights you'd rather just forget ever happened?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-6014902673256299413?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/6014902673256299413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-does-hope-become-bad-thing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6014902673256299413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/6014902673256299413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-does-hope-become-bad-thing.html' title='When Does Hope Become A Bad Thing?'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-8979374369867727974</id><published>2008-10-28T17:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T18:03:07.843-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chocolate milk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='voting'/><title type='text'>Chocolate Milk</title><content type='html'>Today I stood in line for 2 1/2 hours to vote early.  It's great to have the option to do that.  Can you imagine what the polls would have been like next Tuesday if we didn't have early voting?  I can't imagine what they're going to be like anyway, even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt; the early voting!  Most people were very patient and cordial and left each other in peace to listen to music and read while we waited.  But a few people around me grumbled incessantly about how ridiculous it was that we had to wait so long and that the Coke machine only had Vault left.  Some folks are just impossible to please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in kindergarten, we had to write a short book.  We decorated the plain white cover and each page was a different story that we'd illustrate.  I don't remember most of the book, but the one page that is still clear as  a bell to me is the "If I were President" page.  And you know what I said I'd do?  I'd drink all the chocolate milk I wanted.  And everyone else could, too.  Oh, if only the Presidency were that simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how chocolate milk goes with Frosted Mini Wheats?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-8979374369867727974?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8979374369867727974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/10/chocolate-milk.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/8979374369867727974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/8979374369867727974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/10/chocolate-milk.html' title='Chocolate Milk'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-8066421750294325737</id><published>2008-10-28T00:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T00:38:10.899-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oatmeal'/><title type='text'>An oatmeal day</title><content type='html'>Today was an oatmeal day.  The weather is getting cooler here in my neck of the woods and this morning just called for a warm bowl of oatmeal.  Trader Joe's organic oatmeal with blueberries did the trick.  Then go figure, I went to my parents for dinner and we had oatmeal.   Of course, this was REAL oatmeal, made in a pot, with maple syrup and butter.  Because they can take the time to do that and eat it all.  I can't imagine the mess I'd make trying to cook that and the week's worth of oatmeal I'd be left with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Cereal readers, I have a confession to make.  Cereal Girl is a little drunk tonight.  Not wasted-and- making-a-fool-of-herself drunk, just drank-several-glasses-of-wine-and-feeling-sleepy drunk.  The kind of drunk that comes from sitting with friends in a warm house, talking about life and being silly, drinking cheap wine, eating cheese and fruit and watching football.  The kind of drunk that makes you want to curl up in a ball at the end of the couch with a contented sigh and never leave, because you never want that moment to end.  Single friends, married friends, friends in serious relationships - all of that nonsense is put aside for a few hours and we're just us.  Just friends.  Neighbors.  A community.  Moments like those are happening more frequently in my life lately.  It's a good thing .  . .  and yet it leaves me wanting so much more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-8066421750294325737?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/8066421750294325737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/10/oatmeal-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/8066421750294325737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/8066421750294325737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/10/oatmeal-day.html' title='An oatmeal day'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-913470228416102404.post-7185602980116734015</id><published>2008-10-26T21:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:20:13.398-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mini-wheats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='planning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='welcome'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking'/><title type='text'>Mini-Wheats vs. Frozen Chicken</title><content type='html'>I'm 29.  I'm single.  I eat a lot of cereal.  It's cheap, it tastes good, and I get my daily dose of fiber.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cooking for one is nearly impossible.  It takes planning.  Planning a grocery list of things that won't go bad before you eat them, planning recipes that are freezable to save for later, planning to have enough clean tupperware bowls for freezing, and planning the night before to put the frozen stuff in the refrigerator to thaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, that's assuming several things: a) I've taken the time to sit down, find a recipe, and make a grocery list b) washed the pile of dishes in my sink from last week c) I don't wind up going out to eat with friends or in the car after a long day at work, leaving a chicken breast thawing for 5 days, thus making it inedible, and d) I actually feel like cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, I eat a lot of cereal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to my blog.  It's not just about cereal, I swear.  Tonight I'm eating a delicious bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats with soy milk.  And bonus!  It came with a totally usesless mini-Guitar Hero game!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/913470228416102404-7185602980116734015?l=anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/feeds/7185602980116734015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/10/mini-wheats-vs-frozen-chicken.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7185602980116734015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/913470228416102404/posts/default/7185602980116734015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherbowlofcereal.blogspot.com/2008/10/mini-wheats-vs-frozen-chicken.html' title='Mini-Wheats vs. Frozen Chicken'/><author><name>Cereal Girl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18235099236707703018</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
