<?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-30449252</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:43:56.899-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara's take...</title><subtitle type='html'>I've never been one to be short on words and the world really needs to hear what I have to say...really, it does...so listen up, world! Please?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-116248771754792794</id><published>2006-11-02T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T10:58:28.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween cometh and Halloween goeth, but James remains the cutest…</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/pics%20Oct%2031_06%20013.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/320/pics%20Oct%2031_06%20013.4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;For the first time in his young life, James participated in the time-honoured rite of trick or treating, aka “getting complete strangers to give you lots of yummy candy”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you, put a one-year-old in a cute animal costume and position him in front of a doorway looking innocent and somewhat baffled, and the floodgates of candy open up. People were stuffing handfuls of candy in his bag while yelling at their significant other to come see the “wee little one”. I need to shrink a couple of feet, spend my days dressed as a bear or a lion, go from house to house in my neighbourhood and I’ll never have to grocery shop again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;James also enjoyed visiting Grandma’s house, where said grandmother introduced him to the joys of the chocolate bar. It was there that James learned a useful new phrase: “More chocolate…please.” At least he was polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I tried to suggest that perhaps he had had enough chocolate, my mother informed me that Aero bars are half air anyway, so they don’t really count. Now, I’m reasonably certain that she didn’t ply me with chocolate bars when I was 20 months old, but such is the prerogative of the grandmother. Remind me to send her a thank you note when James’ sugar high wears off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;And for nostalgia's sake, a picture from last year – James the Lion, eight months old:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/Halloween%2005.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/Halloween%2005.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/320/Halloween%2005.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-116248771754792794?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/116248771754792794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=116248771754792794&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/116248771754792794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/116248771754792794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/11/halloween-cometh-and-halloween-goeth.html' title='Halloween cometh and Halloween goeth, but James remains the cutest…'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115954433998135651</id><published>2006-09-29T09:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T13:53:41.636-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm baaaack!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Alrighty, after an admittedly long hiatus – for which I offer heartfelt apologies – I’m back, with more updates on The James, more tirades and more inane chitter chatter. Cue the applause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on with the show…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was listening to the radio on the way to work the other day and a caller was talking about wanting to celebrate his heritage and lineage and pass it on to future generations. Here was his plan: he was going to map out his family tree, have it tattooed onto his back and will said tattoo to his firstborn to proudly display in his home. This involves removing the skin from his back after his death and framing it for hanging on his son’s wall. I’ll give you a moment to process that…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shuddering complete? Ok. First off, ewww. Secondly, does he really think his son is going to appreciate this “gift”? Give the kid your money, property…hell, even will him great grandma’s moth-eaten shawl that the cat peed on, but the skin off your back?? That’s just nasty. And also, his son is never, ever to invite me over to his home to view his “art” collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude went on to say that he knows this is a good idea because someone in Australia did it. Now, just because it &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; be done, doesn’t mean it &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; be done. And it’s a good idea because an Aussie did it? These are wacky, beer and barbie-obsessed people who have spent way too much time in the sun. They are not people upon whom you should model your life plan and legacy. (Sorry Nicki, you know I love you!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, there was no way I could endure the horror of this alone, so now I’ve shared it with you and I feel better. Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/smart%20car.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/200/smart%20car.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There’s something that’s been eating at me for a long time and I have to get it off my chest. That something is the Smart Car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These silly cars have become the bane of my parking existence. I spend far too much time driving around the parkade looking for a parking spot in the morning, only to finally spy one, whoop and punch the air triumphantly, drive like a maniac to get there before anyone else steals my prize, prepare to pull into the spot, only to find it already inhabited by this teeny-tiny, ridiculously coloured wanna-be vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I fully understand the practicality of these cars in Europe, where the roads are tiny and narrow, parking next to impossible to find, gas prices astronomical and vehicle pollution a serious problem in a heavily populated region. However, these things are not big issues here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admire those who want to be environmentally friendly and reduce vehicle emissions, but come on! You buy a Smart Car and you know your neighbour is simply going to buy an even bigger and mightier gas guzzling SUV, thus completely negating your efforts. In fact, the Madden family garage houses a mini-van and an SUV. We already cancel you out. So get over it and buy a real car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And get out of my damned parking spot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new online guilty pleasure:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://truewifeconfessions.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;http://truewifeconfessions.blogspot.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times hilarious and other times heartbreakingly sad, it never fails to provide me with an escape and entertainment (and make me count my blessings). And don’t worry, honey, none of those confessions are mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m pleased to report that James is once again the picture of good health and 19-month-old precociousness. His new favourite phrase is, “No, no, no.” Usually accompanied by a devilish grin. Any attempt to dissuade him from his intended course of action (invariably the exact opposite of what you have asked him to do) is met with hysterical laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh, life is grand when they start to develop their own personalities. Please come by and visit me in the loony bin when you get a chance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115954433998135651?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115954433998135651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115954433998135651&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115954433998135651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115954433998135651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-baaaack.html' title='I&apos;m baaaack!'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115818346514323095</id><published>2006-09-13T15:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T15:39:38.953-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules to live by</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I know I've been shockingly slack when it comes to updating this blog lately, but we've had a sick 18 month old on our hands for the past four weeks, so fatique levels are pretty high in the Madden household and our command of the written word has become not so good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I should be back in decent form again soon, as Little Dude is finally showing signs of returning to good health. In the meantime, I provide you with the following for your reading pleasure—you may have seen it before, but it's worthy of a second look (and giggle).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20 ways to maintain a healthy level of insanity&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt; &lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;At lunch time, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hairdryer at passing cars. See if they slow down. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everytime someone asks you to do something, ask if they want fries with that.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "In".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put decaf in the coffee maker for three weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the memo field of your cheques, write "for smuggling diamonds."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finish all your sentences with "In accordance with the Prophecy."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dont use any punctuation&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;As often as possible, skip rather than walk.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;With a serious face, order a diet water whenever you go out to eat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Specify that your drive-through order is "to go".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sing along at the opera.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go to a poetry recital and ask why the poems don't rhyme.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have your co-workers address you by your wrestling name, Rock Bottom.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When the money comes out of the ATM, scream "I won! I won!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling "Run for your lives, they're loose!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we're going to have to let one of you go."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And the final way to keep a healthy level of insanity...share this with someone to make them smile. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cheers all,&lt;br /&gt;Tara (aka Rock Bottom)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115818346514323095?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115818346514323095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115818346514323095&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115818346514323095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115818346514323095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/09/rules-to-live-by.html' title='Rules to live by'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115652392717908241</id><published>2006-08-25T10:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T19:26:10.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This and that...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ok, so much for the “weekly” James update…apparently James’ mommy is a bit of a slacker. So, here’s your plain old update…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a rather rough week in the Madden household. James had his 18-month immunizations on Monday. It’s important to remember that this is the same bundle of vaccines that he received at two, four and six months, so he’s had this set of vaccines three times previously. Why is this important, you ask? Let me tell you…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poor little dude had a violent allergic reaction. We’re talking head-to-toe hives, including some on his eyelids, and a fever. Poor thing was absolutely miserable and could not sleep at night. When he finally did drop off to sleep, we were subjected the first night to a dog down the street that barked &lt;em&gt;all night long&lt;/em&gt;. The second night, James dropped off in the evening and then the world’s loudest thunderstorm parked itself &lt;em&gt;directly over&lt;/em&gt; our house for two solid hours. Not so much conducive to James staying asleep or the other members of the household getting any sleep at all. Finally got him back to sleep (on the couch with me) at 2 a.m., only to have to wake up at 5:30 a.m. to get ready for work. Remind me to send Mother Nature a thank you card. We will all be spending this weekend trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since James has had no previous history of reactions to any vaccines, Capital Health (our regional health authority) is investigating to see if there’s a problem with the batch. He’s now almost totally hive-free and almost back to his usual chipper self. But good times, it was not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/Kai.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 194px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px" height="254" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/320/Kai.0.jpg" width="206" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In other news, last Saturday marked the one year anniversary of the passing of Kayuk (Kai) Madden, our beloved six-year-old Alaskan Malamute, from cancer. It broke my heart then and breaks my heart now. Rest in peace, Little Man. You’re sorely missed…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As most of you know, I despise reality television (we’ll draw a veil over my current guilty summer pleasure/obsession &lt;em&gt;RockStar:Supernova&lt;/em&gt; – I’m certain it’s just an anomaly). Anyway, I’ve never watched a full episode of &lt;em&gt;Survivor&lt;/em&gt; and likely never will, but I can’t help but comment of the latest &lt;em&gt;Survivor&lt;/em&gt; controversy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This season, &lt;em&gt;Survivor: Cook Islands&lt;/em&gt; is dividing the contestants into four camps based on race. In this day and age, where people are still dying because of racial and cultural intolerance, CBS is intentionally and artificially creating racial segregation and their argument is that segregation is part of our history and cannot be ignored. Perhaps, but we can certainly learn from it and do our damnedest to ensure it doesn’t happen again. To exploit this tragic and deadly mindset in the name of entertainment is irresponsible and reprehensible. It makes me sick to my stomach…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no words (well, I do, but I promised my mother I wouldn't use words like that in public)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.puppypurse.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.puppypurse.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Happy Friday, everyone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115652392717908241?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115652392717908241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115652392717908241&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115652392717908241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115652392717908241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/08/this-and-that.html' title='This and that...'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115470603432154721</id><published>2006-08-04T09:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T09:48:17.540-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's up with James, you ask?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/James_July_06_001.sized.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/320/James_July_06_001.sized.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It occurs to me that one of the purported reasons for starting this blog was to keep our loved ones apprised of all things James-related and I’ve been shockingly remiss on that point. So without further ado, here’s your (hopefully) weekly James update…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The terrible two’s have arrived a year early. The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, it’s not as bad as all that…he’s still the adorable little boy who melts his mommy and daddy’s hearts on a daily basis…but that adorableness has become slightly tempered by an emerging independence and, dare I say, defiance. And given that mommy has been sleep-deprived for almost 18 months now, her patience sometimes doesn’t step up to the plate as completely as one might hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this is something every parent goes through. Our little ones start developing their own personalities and testing boundaries—that’s all part of the necessary and wonderful process of them growing up. We were all like this at one point (and to hear my mother tell it, that “one point” lasted a whole lot of years), and our parents all survived. And more significantly, so did we.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things James has accomplished lately:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;He’s been walking since he was 10 months old (over-achiever, that one) and is now also adept at walking backwards, sideways and running (usually away from me). He can also walk downstairs unassisted.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He can kick a ball with quite remarkable aim. We’re hoping he’s going to develop into the next David Beckham and support his parents in their old age.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He can throw overhand. Now, according to the toddler milestone charts, 50% of toddlers can do this by age 22 months. Given that he’s been doing this since he was 15 months, we’re quite impressed. That pride has been somewhat tempered by the pain of being pegged in the head by a flying mega block, but we’re working on that one.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He’s a very enthusiastic dancer. Dude’s got rhythm…not good rhythm, but rhythm nonetheless.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;His vocabulary is expanding by the day. Last night he went to bed chanting ”lawnmower, lawnmower”, so I have great hopes that he’ll turn out to be a very eager gardener. That’s what having kids is all about, after all…child labour.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He clearly understands most of what is said to him, including instructions, and he will periodically humour us by following them. Saying “no” to him is usually met with great hilarity on his part, but you can’t win ‘em all.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He now has 12 teeth and counting (would have 13, but he knocked one out six months ago) and it hurts when he uses them on your finger. So you might not want to let him do that.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He likes ice cream…a lot (see above picture).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;He continues to be a joy to us and brightens every day by just being him. And if we can all survive the next 18 years or so, everything should be grand!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115470603432154721?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115470603432154721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115470603432154721&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115470603432154721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115470603432154721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/08/whats-up-with-james-you-ask.html' title='What&apos;s up with James, you ask?'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115333865374809700</id><published>2006-07-19T13:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T13:50:53.756-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Three years ago today I was a nervous, blushing bride (although the blush was primarily caused by the sweltering heat and the lack of air conditioning in the church), preparing to begin a new and exciting chapter in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In some ways it feels like yesterday, in others it seems a lifetime ago. Since that beautiful July day we’ve purchased our first home together and started a family. We’ve matured as individuals and as a couple, and I truly believe we are better together than we could ever be individually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve grown a lot in the past seven years together and especially in the three years as “the wife”. I know I’ll probably live to rue this moment when I’m being whiny, complaining and/or nagging and this blog is rubbed in my face, but I’m proud of the wonderful, loving, devoted and compassionate husband and father that I’m fortunate to share my life with. And I’m very proud to be his wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy anniversary to us! Now who brought the cake??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115333865374809700?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115333865374809700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115333865374809700&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115333865374809700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115333865374809700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/07/happy-anniversary.html' title='Happy Anniversary!'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115280469583373523</id><published>2006-07-13T09:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T16:26:39.643-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Crappy Thursday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Many of you know I work three days a week, so James goes to my Mom’s on Wednesdays and Fridays and goes to a dayhome on Thursdays. The dayhome is a new thing – today is only his third time there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really nervous the first time I dropped him off, but within seconds of arriving, he was playing with another little girl and had seemingly forgotten I existed. “Hey,” I thought, “this is going to be easier than I expected.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On his second visit to the dayhome, he was a little more shy, tucking his head into my shoulder and holding me fairly tightly, but he went to Janet, the dayhome operator, easily and with a small smile on his face. And he was obviously having a ball when I picked him up, playing and laughing and waving merrily on his way out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is day three. I pulled up to the curb as usual, got James and his bag out of the back seat and walked through the front door. James was his usual slightly shy self, but I confidently handed first his bag and then his lordship over to Janet…and it happened. I knew it would, but you just can’t really ever be fully prepared for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Janet set him down on the floor, he turned his baby blues to me and his face crumpled. The pitiful look on his face hit me like a bullet to the heart. I made a quick exit to avoid drawing out the painful goodbye and I could hear his anguished crying all the way down the sidewalk. Only the closing of the van door finally drowned it out. I had to hold back my own tears as I drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know he probably stopped crying as soon as I was gone and something fun caught his attention. I know he has a good time at the dayhome and likely doesn’t give me another thought until I show up at the end of the day to collect him. But I will hear that sad cry and carry this lump in my throat until I see him at 5 p.m. and can finally convince myself I’m not doing him any lasting damage and I’m not truly abandoning him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This working mother thing is a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear City of Edmonton,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you’re planning to close off a road in the heart of downtown during morning rush hour to fill it with bales of hay and cows (yes, I’m serious and no, I don’t know why), you might want to consider putting up some sort of sign or notice to warn the work-going drivers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming bumper-to-face with a cow out of the blue can do traumatic things to an early morning brain that has not yet had its coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for your attention to this matter (and give my regards to Bessie).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the person who broke into my van yesterday while I was work, I hope you desperately needed that ~$5.00 in change and it brought you some happiness. 'Cuz let me tell you, I'm not so much happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm protective of my personal space at the best of times, but when you violate space that is also frequently occupied by my son, mama bear gets pretty damned growly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Memo to all:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s not a hickey on my neck – it’s a curling iron burn. Hand slipped, curling iron took a wrong turn and landed on the side of my neck. Hurt like a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So stop giving me those annoying looks like I’m some silly teenager showing off the products of last night’s grope session. Or I’ll stick a hot curling iron against your neck and see how you like it. You’ve been warned…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(It’s possible I’m still a little grumpy after the horrible mommy/abandoned child crisis and the random cow incident…)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Happy Birthday, Lisa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;! Have a great day, sis!! Much love and birthday wishes from all of us!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.3d-animated-gifs.com/full-page-greeting-images/balloons-elephant-t-g.gif"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.3d-animated-gifs.com/full-page-greeting-images/balloons-elephant-t-g.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115280469583373523?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115280469583373523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115280469583373523&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115280469583373523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115280469583373523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/07/happy-crappy-thursday.html' title='Happy Crappy Thursday'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115228675437904956</id><published>2006-07-07T09:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T16:26:31.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday's random thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What’s with birds who won’t fly? I can’t count the number of times lately I’ve had to hit the brakes while a bird &lt;em&gt;ran&lt;/em&gt; across the street. Listen little dude, you know those feathered appendages lying prone against your side? They’re called wings. Flap them and amazing things can happen…you might want to give it a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a society, we’re getting more and more lazy…has this laziness crossed the species line to now affect our avian friends? What’s next? Will they soon be hailing little birdie taxis to take them to their destinations?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fly, little dudes…fly…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one more person tells me they, too, should work in public relations because they’re a “people person”, I’m gonna start smackin’ some heads. PR isn’t about making nice with people…I can count on one hand the number of people I actually talk to or interact with during a regular work day, and most of those people are co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly I sit cooped up in my office writing, designing, researching, arguing with the website (that's what I'm doing today, FYI) or some other equally non-people-related activity. Half the time I don’t even like most other people. So learn a little about the profession before you blithely decide it’s the profession for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sanity (and your head) thanks you…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.com.com/2061-10801_3-6088879.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;cellphone prevents drunk dialing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mwah-ha-ha…now what about drunk emailing??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://emericklaw.co.uk/wp-content/photos/LondonFlowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last, but by no means least, on this, the first anniversary of the terrorist attacks in London, my thoughts and prayers are with everyone who was touched by this senseless tragedy. May you someday find peace, as may we all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://emericklaw.co.uk/wp-content/photos/LondonFlowers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand" height="107" alt="" src="http://emericklaw.co.uk/wp-content/photos/LondonFlowers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115228675437904956?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115228675437904956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115228675437904956&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115228675437904956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115228675437904956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/07/fridays-random-thoughts.html' title='Friday&apos;s random thoughts'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115167939922483109</id><published>2006-06-30T08:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T14:16:55.173-06:00</updated><title type='text'>O Canada...Happy Birthday, eh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.webmaster-tool.co.uk/flag-animated/Canada-National-Flag-LH.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" height="132" alt="" src="http://www.webmaster-tool.co.uk/flag-animated/Canada-National-Flag-LH.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;On the eve of Canada's 139th birthday, I pause to reflect on all that makes me a proud Canadian.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Having recently hosted a newbie to Canada, in the form of my mother-in-law, I found myself seeing my country through fresh eyes...and I liked what I saw. A land of space and beauty, of distinct seasons bringing their own unique joys and splendour, of people well-respected and well-liked the world over (if you gloss over the quirky French-Canadians, that distant cousin and black sheep of the family that you rarely talk about), of cultural diversity and (usually) tolerance, of a high standard of living and opportunity...what's not to love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Having spent much of my younger years railing that Canadian patriotism was anchored not in pride of country but primarily in the fact that we're not American (no offense to my American friends), I'm starting to realize this is not true and does Canadians a real injustice. Our patriotism might be more subdued and introspective than our neighbours to the south, but it is no less strong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;During the Edmonton Oilers' recent Cinderella run to the Stanley Cup finals (yay Oil...love you guys!!!), this patriotism was evidenced by the reaction to the booing of the Canadian anthem by San Jose fans during the western conference semi-finals. Instead of reacting in kind, our fans first cheered the Star Spangled Banner and then moved to singing along with it, showing a grace and dignity that made me proud. And the resounding rendition of O Canada that rang out during home games, drowning out and eventually completely replacing the Oilers' anthem singer, brought goosebumps to my arms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's that grace and understated dignity that embodies everything that I love about this country of mine. I'm proud to be a Canadian and celebrate all that makes her great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;Happy Birthday, Canada...party hard, eh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115167939922483109?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115167939922483109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115167939922483109&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115167939922483109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115167939922483109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/06/o-canadahappy-birthday-eh.html' title='O Canada...Happy Birthday, eh!'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115160602519498776</id><published>2006-06-29T12:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T18:12:10.133-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn I'm good...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/May%20&amp;%20June%202006%20-%20Mom"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/320/May%20%26%20June%202006%20-%20Mom%27s%20Visit%20060.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I always swore I wouldn't be one of those mothers who is so consumed by her child that she subjects loved-ones and strangers alike to constant tales of what cute thing Junior did yesterday. Or how Mini-me is the smartest child in the world because... Or thrusts dog-eared photos into the face of every poor soul who crosses her path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, it happened...I was standing in line at Tim Horton's with a coworker, sharing with said co-worker the truly awe-inspiring life lesson James taught me yesterday when I caught sight of the unfocused, dare I say &lt;em&gt;bored&lt;/em&gt;, look in her eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I stopped in mid-sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Had the unthinkable happened? Had I become that which I detested??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I returned to my desk, looked closely at the photo above, and realized that what I mistook for boredom on my coworker's face was obviously paralyzing envy and admiration that I had produced what is clearly the most perfect child to ever walk the face of the earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I left work, swung by Grandma's to collect this flawless extension of my flesh and blood and took him home for his dinner - where he threw quiche in my face and pulled my hair with an evil gleam in his eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I need to rethink my hypothesis... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115160602519498776?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115160602519498776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115160602519498776&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115160602519498776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115160602519498776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/06/damn-im-good.html' title='Damn I&apos;m good...'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30449252.post-115160664343724889</id><published>2006-06-29T11:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T12:43:43.493-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Here I go...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hey there. Welcome to my blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;First off, I should warn you that I have never blogged before in my life. When I'm in charge of running the world, I'll have someone else do my blogging for me; in the meantime, I'm game if you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;This is my space to share my pearls of wisdom and hopefully change the world...or at least entertain you periodically. So sit back and enjoy - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm off to go diving for pearls...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30449252-115160664343724889?l=taramadden.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/feeds/115160664343724889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30449252&amp;postID=115160664343724889&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115160664343724889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30449252/posts/default/115160664343724889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://taramadden.blogspot.com/2006/06/here-i-go.html' title='Here I go...'/><author><name>Tara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07428194365283826603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4039/3266/1600/us.1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
