<?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-7607116822843263880</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:22:47.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Day</title><subtitle type='html'>"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-5567701667680047549</id><published>2011-11-09T11:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T11:18:46.921-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Day Project, Day Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-69BytIL3-pQ/TrqnRErqtRI/AAAAAAAAASE/H-5mX-RvcVQ/s1600/happydayrainbowsquare.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-69BytIL3-pQ/TrqnRErqtRI/AAAAAAAAASE/H-5mX-RvcVQ/s320/happydayrainbowsquare.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673030592383071506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Todays task: give someone a handwritten note....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_YQg0NtFsU/TrqnKui3MkI/AAAAAAAAAR4/Kvnyj0hcTOg/s320/notecard.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673030483361346114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 160px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Who doesn't love an encouraging note from a friend? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-5567701667680047549?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/5567701667680047549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/11/happy-day-project-day-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/5567701667680047549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/5567701667680047549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/11/happy-day-project-day-two.html' title='Happy Day Project, Day Two'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-69BytIL3-pQ/TrqnRErqtRI/AAAAAAAAASE/H-5mX-RvcVQ/s72-c/happydayrainbowsquare.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-6482241670735613139</id><published>2011-11-07T21:05:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T21:28:25.879-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Day Project: Day One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.joyshope.com/"&gt;A blog I stumbled upon a while back&lt;/a&gt; announced last week that they were launching a week-long "Happy Day" project, where you do one thing each day for a week to make someone happy. There is a schedule so you know what you need to plan for, with fun templates and printables to add to your "gift." I thought it sounded fun, and when I checked back today I realized that today was the day they were starting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ne60f4sTJ6c/TriQ7JR7VdI/AAAAAAAAARs/6VH7bsIJWtQ/s1600/happydayrainbowsquare.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ne60f4sTJ6c/TriQ7JR7VdI/AAAAAAAAARs/6VH7bsIJWtQ/s320/happydayrainbowsquare.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672443076450932178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lucky for me, today's assignment was to take a treat to a neighbor...I baked cookies last night to take to friend tonight...not technically a neighbor, but close enough. And this was one of the printables, which was perfect because....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZL4C0wFC5aQ/TriQz7_oucI/AAAAAAAAARg/EF5CWR4rOzc/s1600/IMG_0495.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZL4C0wFC5aQ/TriQz7_oucI/AAAAAAAAARg/EF5CWR4rOzc/s320/IMG_0495.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672442952625469890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-plwVM-zvMPA/TriQnu94hII/AAAAAAAAARU/Azf9EvCmS9E/s1600/IMG_0497.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-plwVM-zvMPA/TriQnu94hII/AAAAAAAAARU/Azf9EvCmS9E/s320/IMG_0497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672442742970025090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I think this is such a fun idea and I love the idea of intentionally doing things daily to brighten someone else's day. Hopefully I can make it the whole week! Click &lt;a href="http://www.joyshope.com/2011/11/happy-day-project-launch.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to read more info and get the whole schedule!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-6482241670735613139?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/6482241670735613139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/11/happy-day-project-day-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6482241670735613139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6482241670735613139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/11/happy-day-project-day-one.html' title='Happy Day Project: Day One'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ne60f4sTJ6c/TriQ7JR7VdI/AAAAAAAAARs/6VH7bsIJWtQ/s72-c/happydayrainbowsquare.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8172105547793872439</id><published>2011-10-23T21:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T22:22:20.041-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rescue</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7TK8C_G6sbY/TqTALJSF32I/AAAAAAAAARI/vCGIAIHgffE/s1600/IMG_0408.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7TK8C_G6sbY/TqTALJSF32I/AAAAAAAAARI/vCGIAIHgffE/s320/IMG_0408.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666865528841822050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My family went to St. Simons on vacation this summer and got to see this one and her little sister enjoy the beach. The condo we were stayed in had a pool that we spent some time at too. While we were playing in the pool one day, there was another family there that had a little boy several years older than Madelyn. Of course, he seemed much more interesting than us adults. His dad kept throwing him in the pool, he would scream and laugh, and swim over to his dad to do it again.  Madelyn, who loves imaginative play, decided she wanted to go "rescue" him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Well, being catapulted into a swimming pool over and over is tons more fun than playing with a  2 year old girl to this little boy, so needless to say, he wasn't paying her much attention. Her mom kept saying, "Madelyn, I don't think he wants to be rescued." But she kept swimming over there, insisting, "I want to rescue him, I want to rescue him!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As I thought back over this scenario, I thought about how much this parallels our relationship with Christ. We go through life, working and playing and worrying and stressing and all the while Jesus is saying, "I want to rescue you!" But, instead of allowing Him to, we want to keep playing our own game, with our own rules, our own way. We either just ignore Him, or worse, say outright, "I don't want to be rescued." But just like Madelyn, He is persistent, constantly pursuing us, whispering to us, "I want to rescue you...I want to rescue you..." And all He wants us to do is ask...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(0, 19, 32);   line-height: 21px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:15px;"&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="22" align="center" class="mainbk" style="background-color: rgb(179, 224, 255); "&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr valign="top"&gt;&lt;td class="bluebk3" width="98%" style="background-color: rgb(249, 253, 255); background-image: url(http://nlt.scripturetext.com/lline.gif); text-align: justify; background-repeat: no-repeat repeat; "&gt;&lt;table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" class="btext" height="20" style="font-size: 15px; color: rgb(0, 19, 32); line-height: 21px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-decoration: none; text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;p class="poet1-vnn-sp" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 12px; margin-left: 8px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet1-vnn-sp" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 12px; margin-left: 8px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;He will &lt;b&gt;rescue&lt;/b&gt; the poor when they cry to him;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet2" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 55px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;he will help the oppressed, who have no one to defend them.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet1-vnn" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 8px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;He feels pity for the weak and the needy,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet2" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 55px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;and he will &lt;b&gt;rescue&lt;/b&gt; them.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet1-vnn" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 8px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;He will redeem them from oppression and violence,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet2" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 55px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;for their lives are precious to him.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet2" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 55px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poet2" style="text-align: center;margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 55px; margin-bottom: 0px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Psalm 72: 12-14&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8172105547793872439?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8172105547793872439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/10/rescue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8172105547793872439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8172105547793872439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/10/rescue.html' title='rescue'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7TK8C_G6sbY/TqTALJSF32I/AAAAAAAAARI/vCGIAIHgffE/s72-c/IMG_0408.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-7843198654144473514</id><published>2011-09-19T13:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-25T21:32:23.107-04:00</updated><title type='text'>all the single ladies</title><content type='html'>Forget guys calling my mom to get my phone number (yes, that really happened), now my Grandma is trying to set me up. Maybe she's starting to worry she won't get to see her oldest granddaughter tie the knot. Or she'll never have great-grandchildren from me. Here's how our phone conversation went last week....&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandma: Mallory, I want to get your phone number. [think about that...she &lt;i&gt;called &lt;/i&gt;me to get my phone number]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Grandma, you have my number. It's stored in your phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandma: No I don't, it just says "Mallory," but not your number. [oh technology]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Ok, there's a way to find my number, but I'll just give it to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandma: I want to give it to a certain someone. [&lt;i&gt;certain someone&lt;/i&gt; happens to be the 27 year old single son of my grandma's hairdresser. they've been scheming to get us together for a while now.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Well, why don't you just tell him to look me up on facebook. [read: I don't want him to call me]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandma: You can talk to each other on facebook?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yes, you can chat and send messages.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandma: Well, ok, I'll tell him to do that then. You get on that facebook tomorrow night, ok? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Ok, Grandma. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If this ends how these things typically end for me, I feel another blog post coming. Stay tuned...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-7843198654144473514?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/7843198654144473514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/09/all-single-ladies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7843198654144473514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7843198654144473514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/09/all-single-ladies.html' title='all the single ladies'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-4344240384291995351</id><published>2011-07-26T21:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T21:25:25.019-04:00</updated><title type='text'>rolling...rolling...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kghfASmN2Rs/Ti9odlnvSaI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/By1p-lKe_ok/s320/IMG_0125.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633836516388063650" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--k6KZ3xYnME/Ti9odaB-PMI/AAAAAAAAAQw/0j5Lg3HGuNc/s320/IMG_0124.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633836513276869826" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h3yqJ32xmbY/Ti9odC1LGYI/AAAAAAAAAQo/4ZVBHmVzzf8/s320/IMG_0123.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633836507049171330" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ThRxoMWh70/Ti9ou6y5lmI/AAAAAAAAARA/fBkX6ZIX36Q/s320/IMG_0128.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633836814129796706" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;no more tummy time for this girl!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-4344240384291995351?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/4344240384291995351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/07/rollingrolling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4344240384291995351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4344240384291995351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/07/rollingrolling.html' title='rolling...rolling...'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kghfASmN2Rs/Ti9odlnvSaI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/By1p-lKe_ok/s72-c/IMG_0125.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-2465303852334882664</id><published>2011-05-24T23:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T23:23:28.557-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Lose a Girl After 2 Dates</title><content type='html'>1. Begin initial communication via text messaging.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Tell her all about your ex-girlfriend - including how you bought her a ring, talked to her parents, and took her on a weekend trip to propose, only to change your mind because it didn't feel right, then find out after you get home that she has been cheating on you - on your first phone conversation (before you have even met her).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Ask personal questions about her previous relationships and why they ended, on your first phone conversation (before you have even met her). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Don't offer to pick her up to go on your first date. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. After initial phone conversation, text her 10-15 times a day. Every day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Talk about your ex-girlfriend. A lot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. After she tells you on a Sunday afternoon that she has a really busy week, with plans every night, text her later that night to invite her to your friend's birthday celebration on Thursday night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Text her the next morning (before work) to invite her to go walking with you and your dog that afternoon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Text her at least 5 times to continue to ask about said birthday celebration on Thursday night, even though she tells you "no" every time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Begin text messaging at 7:30 am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Send her a text that says she has to go out with you, "no excuses!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. After she loses her patience and tells you that she CANNOT GO OUT ON THURSDAY, text her the next morning, just to be sure. Three times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Ask her if she's mad at you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Tell all of your friends she is coming out with you when she has clearly said she was not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Ask her to call you repeatedly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Don't take no for an answer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Ask her out after she has ignored your texts for 3 days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. When she says she is not interested, ask if she believes in second chances.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. When she bluntly says she is not interested in you, text her first thing the next morning to invite her to to out later that week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Repeat #'s 1-19. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-2465303852334882664?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/2465303852334882664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-to-lose-girl-after-2-dates.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2465303852334882664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2465303852334882664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-to-lose-girl-after-2-dates.html' title='How To Lose a Girl After 2 Dates'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-771070435044313173</id><published>2011-03-22T21:12:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T22:18:03.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SSI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The next couple of months are gonna be jam-packed with exciting events...from bachelorette weekends to babies to a cruise to weddings...lots and lots of fun packed into such a short amount of time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;First off, SSI for my best friend &lt;a href="http://llee-masquerade.blogspot.com/"&gt;Laura's&lt;/a&gt; bachelorette weekend! We got a beach house and spent the weekend celebrating this girl!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RfFapp6gTLE/TYlK7niwMAI/AAAAAAAAAOc/XK4Y9WwK-q8/s320/DSC03325.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587079200817295362" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We all got there Friday night and spent some time catching up and visiting with each other. Saturday afternoon we had her bridesmaids luncheon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;Perfect weather for an outside luncheon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sH3wNjn4lFI/TYlMSrzhp3I/AAAAAAAAAOk/kvK2vHvoVF0/s320/DSC03315.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587080696610006898" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;The bride with her bridesmaids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hJkanntjJrk/TYlM_WdMFsI/AAAAAAAAAO8/LoTbz2vRycc/s320/DSC03334.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587081463973287618" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sweet gifts for everyone there. Laura gave all of the bridesmaids handmade gifts, along with a card with a quote, verse, or song lyric that she picked out especially for each bridesmaid. The quote she had on mine was...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;"Everyone has a "best friend" during each stage of life. Only a precious few have the same one."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; "&gt;That pretty much sums us up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wt8XAt1H3qU/TYlMTLL-g-I/AAAAAAAAAOs/Ne_IMXUcbSY/s320/DSC03327.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587080705034060770" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After the luncheon, we all hit the beach for a couple of hours, then got ready for a yummy dinner at &lt;a href="http://www.barbarajeans.com/"&gt;Barbara Je&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.barbarajeans.com/"&gt;an's&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GTbd_Nht7Ys/TYlPT-jP0GI/AAAAAAAAAPE/xF7miMLQ_y8/s320/DSC03341.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587084017356755042" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N2lrSycn0fM/TYlPUO5jTqI/AAAAAAAAAPM/Zr2P8yt6kpM/s320/DSC03343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587084021745274530" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We headed back to the house for dessert and to let Laura open her lingerie gifts :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wXfmTQRXhTg/TYlQUuvkoOI/AAAAAAAAAPU/Bes2Xp0N03o/s320/DSC03347.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587085129804980450" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lingerie cupcakes from&lt;a href="http://myvisionsofsugarplums.blogspot.com/"&gt; Lindsay&lt;/a&gt; :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GEBr-uiVEdQ/TYlQUwiD8AI/AAAAAAAAAPc/qK2Yjc-WswI/s320/DSC03348.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587085130285182978" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Then we headed out to Ziggy's for a night full of dancing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6g0_52rAQX4/TYlQVOUncPI/AAAAAAAAAPk/sV2OtTqV_F8/s320/DSC03350.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587085138281853170" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We had such a great weekend celebrating Laura and her upcoming wedding! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-771070435044313173?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/771070435044313173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/03/ssi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/771070435044313173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/771070435044313173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2011/03/ssi.html' title='SSI'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RfFapp6gTLE/TYlK7niwMAI/AAAAAAAAAOc/XK4Y9WwK-q8/s72-c/DSC03325.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-4302415162355776577</id><published>2010-12-16T21:01:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T21:07:06.821-05:00</updated><title type='text'>christmas gifts</title><content type='html'>I found &lt;a href="http://www.noodle-head.com/2010/04/gathered-clutch-tutorial.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; cute clutch tutorial a while back and made one for myself. It turned out super cute and was easy to make, so I made some as Christmas gifts for my Bible study girls. Here's how they turned out!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFlwOSfVI/AAAAAAAAAOM/teWKozumnkA/s1600/DSC03162.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFlwOSfVI/AAAAAAAAAOM/teWKozumnkA/s320/DSC03162.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551466743078223186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFfTsaRrI/AAAAAAAAAOE/uya_JBb7uQw/s1600/DSC03163.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFfTsaRrI/AAAAAAAAAOE/uya_JBb7uQw/s320/DSC03163.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551466632340719282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFYWbNIqI/AAAAAAAAAN8/LfojIQ137OA/s1600/DSC03160.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFYWbNIqI/AAAAAAAAAN8/LfojIQ137OA/s320/DSC03160.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551466512814776994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Merry Christmas, girls!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-4302415162355776577?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/4302415162355776577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-gifts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4302415162355776577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4302415162355776577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-gifts.html' title='christmas gifts'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TQrFlwOSfVI/AAAAAAAAAOM/teWKozumnkA/s72-c/DSC03162.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-7120158075717797546</id><published>2010-12-06T18:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T18:46:33.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hello world</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TP11nktioiI/AAAAAAAAAN0/XwQ2VUuLmnM/s1600/baltimore%2B134.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TP11nktioiI/AAAAAAAAAN0/XwQ2VUuLmnM/s320/baltimore%2B134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547719638720356898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 17px; font-family:Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;hello world &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 17px; font-family:Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;how you been? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;good to see you my old friend &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;sometimes I feel cold as steel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 17px; font-family:Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;broken like I'm never gonna heal &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 17px; font-family:Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;I see a light, a little hope in a little girl &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;hello world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 17px; font-family:Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;-lady antebellum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-7120158075717797546?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/7120158075717797546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/12/hello-world.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7120158075717797546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7120158075717797546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/12/hello-world.html' title='hello world'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/TP11nktioiI/AAAAAAAAAN0/XwQ2VUuLmnM/s72-c/baltimore%2B134.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8306053924731021945</id><published>2010-08-07T11:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T12:05:02.412-04:00</updated><title type='text'>{more}</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span &gt;I want to...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;read&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;sew&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;learn &lt;/em&gt;{more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;dance&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;grow&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;cook &lt;/em&gt;{more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;serve&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;create&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;run &lt;/em&gt;{more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;pray&lt;/em&gt; {more}&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;...and I want to start &lt;em&gt;{today}.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8306053924731021945?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8306053924731021945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/08/more.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8306053924731021945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8306053924731021945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/08/more.html' title='{more}'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-2763301193961597932</id><published>2010-04-20T14:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T14:48:11.680-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good times.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Clap your hands, stomp your feet, good times, good times!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the song and dance a sweet little 8 year old boy was doing when he walked in the door to get speech therapy today. His mom had to quiet him several times as his voice and movements escalated in the waiting room. &lt;em&gt;"Clap your hands, stomp your feet, good times, good times!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is not my patient, so I don't know much about his condition or what he is being seen for. But I do know that I witnessed a child full of joy in the waiting room today. A child with a "disability." And it made me think. Maybe "disability" isn't the word we should use. If my attitude in life was to walk around clapping my hands, stopping my feet, grinning from ear to ear and singing, I certainly wouldn't call it a disability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong. I am sure he has and will continue to face his share of challenges in this life. Probably more than I could ever imagine. But if there is one thing I have discovered, it's all about your perspective. And if he can get up, facing his day, singing &lt;em&gt;"Clap your hands, stomp your feet, good times, good times!"&lt;/em&gt; in spite of his "disability," I'd like to have a little more of his perspective on life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So keep clapping, and keep stomping, and keep grinning, and keep singing, sweet boy, and keep teaching me lessons best taught by an 8 year old that this world so easily labels.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-2763301193961597932?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/2763301193961597932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/04/good-times.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2763301193961597932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2763301193961597932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/04/good-times.html' title='Good times.'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-5126463923004424695</id><published>2010-04-18T20:38:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T21:22:26.520-04:00</updated><title type='text'>On fear.</title><content type='html'>"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself--nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." -FDR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Lord is my light and my salvation--whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid?" -Psalm 27:1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If we let things terrify us, life will not be worth living." -Senec&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand." -Isaiah 41:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When we &lt;em&gt;fear &lt;/em&gt;things I think that we &lt;em&gt;wish&lt;/em&gt; for them...every fear hides a wish." -David Mamet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering." -Yoda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4: 18&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship." -Romans 8:15&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-5126463923004424695?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/5126463923004424695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/04/on-fear.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/5126463923004424695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/5126463923004424695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/04/on-fear.html' title='On fear.'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-4587831276327193530</id><published>2010-01-03T19:40:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T20:11:25.744-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Something old, something new.</title><content type='html'>Within the past 5 months, 3 of my very best friends from OT school have gotten married. It has been so wonderful to be able to share this special time with them. First, Laurie (formerly Allen) and Josh tied the knot in Athens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422683210957176354" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E9plaTviI/AAAAAAAAAM8/Ep1DgvZFtyc/s320/summer+2009+027.JPG" /&gt;After they cut the cake, the DJ played "Ice Cream and Cake" and we got up and did the dance we learned at camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422682894384430050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E9XKFe--I/AAAAAAAAAM0/jFurD0Kt9lc/s320/summer+2009+039.JPG" /&gt; Next, Celia and Daryl got married in Bainbridge. An 8 hour drive, but it was worth it :) Celia asked me to make her veil for her, and I was so honored (and nervous!) to do this for her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422681877008636994" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E8b8EMXEI/AAAAAAAAAMs/MzA1gO-xcSA/s320/fall+2009+002.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E75jsApPI/AAAAAAAAAMk/kMmwpGUkg1k/s1600-h/fall+2009+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422681286349202674" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E75jsApPI/AAAAAAAAAMk/kMmwpGUkg1k/s320/fall+2009+001.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422680763767642898" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E7bI622xI/AAAAAAAAAMc/TI5sc5Zl8Vo/s320/celia%27s+wedding+024.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, this weekend Laurie (formerly Blanchard) and Phillip got married in Augusta. I also had the honor of making Laurie's garters for her. She wanted them to be part Georgia and part golf, since Phillip is a huge fan of both.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422680282877165234" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E6_JdofrI/AAAAAAAAAMU/VcIbuxXenX0/s320/Vera+wedding+009.JPG" /&gt;One to throw and one to keep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422679707389457282" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E6dpmq84I/AAAAAAAAAMM/dQLOYZjkDxk/s320/Vera+wedding+057.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bride and honorary bridesmaids....together again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422679172141705874" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E5-fpqapI/AAAAAAAAAME/bIjtF4CZz7g/s320/Vera+wedding+040.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; Thanks girls for letting me be a part of these special times! Love you all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-4587831276327193530?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/4587831276327193530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/01/something-old-something-new.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4587831276327193530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4587831276327193530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2010/01/something-old-something-new.html' title='Something old, something new.'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/S0E9plaTviI/AAAAAAAAAM8/Ep1DgvZFtyc/s72-c/summer+2009+027.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-3838017837975082694</id><published>2009-11-11T21:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T22:10:58.740-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Come Early</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Svt5RDupyHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/iTuELJrt8ak/s1600-h/christmas+tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 110px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 140px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403045511926761586" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Svt5RDupyHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/iTuELJrt8ak/s320/christmas+tree.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Christmas seems to start earlier and earlier every year. I was in several department stores over this past weekend, and the stores were already playing Christmas music! And, stores begin to bring out their Christmas decorations even before Halloween! I know that I'm guilty of saying, "I can't believe they've already got their Christmas stuff out!" or "Why do they bring the Christmas decorations out so early? It's not even Halloween yet!" But, as I was walking through Barnes and Noble this weekend, listening to some Christmas tunes, I was struck with a thought. Why not celebrate Christmas early? What better cause for celebration than the birthday of Jesus?! We (I) should celebrate Jesus' birth and God's ultimate gift to us ALL year long, so if stores want to pull out Christmas trees and play Christmas songs before Halloween, I'm all for it! Of course, many public places want Christmas to be completely secular and take away any faith-based aspect of it, but we, children of the King, know that that's simply not possible. THE reason we celebrate Christmas is Christ. So, next time you see stores pulling out their Christmas decorations in October, or hear Christmas songs being played before you've carved your jack-0-lantern, let it be a reminder of why we celebrate Christmas, and be thankful for the most incredible Gift we could &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; ask for!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-3838017837975082694?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/3838017837975082694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-come-early.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/3838017837975082694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/3838017837975082694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-come-early.html' title='Christmas Come Early'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Svt5RDupyHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/iTuELJrt8ak/s72-c/christmas+tree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8692725700155921069</id><published>2009-11-01T19:52:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T19:55:40.174-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons Learned in Boston</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Compiled by Mallory, Lindsay, and Erica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1.&lt;/strong&gt; You are not cool unless you are wearing tall boots outside your jeans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399331447727199426" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su5HWEZgFMI/AAAAAAAAALo/K4DNNrEAc7E/s200/boots.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2.&lt;/strong&gt; Dunkin' Donuts is to Boston as Starbucks is to NYC. There's one on every corner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399330430210516482" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su5Ga12npgI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZgB9pF8t5KQ/s200/Boston+104.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3.&lt;/strong&gt; Mallory, Lindsay, and Erica walking down the streets of Boston = "Charlie's Angels" to the local homeless population. Or at least 2 of them. On the same day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399329076817523346" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su5FMEElcpI/AAAAAAAAALY/3UWXdgdxsU4/s200/Boston+087.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4.&lt;/strong&gt; Paul Revere did not say, "The British are coming, the British are coming!" That makes no sense, according to the &lt;em&gt;passionate&lt;/em&gt; historian at the Revere household. He said, "The Regulars are coming, the Regulars are coming!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399323519076267762" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su5AIj3z9vI/AAAAAAAAALI/28hEMmMyx-8/s200/Boston+047.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5.&lt;/strong&gt; Churches feel the need to make political statements. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6.&lt;/strong&gt; While staying on the 5th floor of the Holiday Inn Express, you may be forced to sleep with the window open and a fan propped in it, even though it's 40 degrees outside. But be careful, the fan could fall out the window into the alley below. Not that we (almost) found out the hard way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399321203153427794" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su4-BwYx3VI/AAAAAAAAALA/P5jCShRdjKY/s200/Boston+107.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7.&lt;/strong&gt; While visiting Boston the last week in October, you may find yourself asking the question, "Is that a costume, or is that for real?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399320305869717362" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su49Nhvq_3I/AAAAAAAAAK4/JuVW76kWLOE/s200/Boston+101.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8.&lt;/strong&gt; People from Boston think we have an accent. We think they have an accent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. &lt;/strong&gt;He might be lying in the hospital with amnesia, but more likely he's just not that into you. (Taken from &lt;em&gt;He's Just Not That Into You: Your Daily Wake-Up Call.&lt;/em&gt; Only $1.01 at Urban Outfitters. We both got one.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399319083763577586" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su48GZC3MvI/AAAAAAAAAKw/5SRHP5FKQkA/s200/Boston+096.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10.&lt;/strong&gt; Never assume all statues are made of steel. Some are people spray painted gold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399317916667588978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su47CdRfsXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/lW0YAhfoalI/s200/Boston+077.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11.&lt;/strong&gt; Some waiters at seafood restaurants know that there is a God in heaven because lobsters that are the size of the table you are eating off of and that cost $200 do &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; happen by accident.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12.&lt;/strong&gt; The Bruins do not play basketball. In fact, most cities only have 1 basketball team.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13.&lt;/strong&gt; Never trust limo drivers at the airport, even when they tell you they are the same price as cabs. They lie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14.&lt;/strong&gt; Sometimes it's just too much trouble to open the door and walk 10 extra steps to the counter at McDonalds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399317219871663250" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su46Z5gZpJI/AAAAAAAAAKg/s9W3jUw6toc/s200/Boston+128.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15.&lt;/strong&gt; Umbrellas are useless during a monsoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16.&lt;/strong&gt; Mike's Pastry is worth the wait.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399316210643941810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su45fJ1wubI/AAAAAAAAAKY/746b1lTWAC8/s200/Boston+049.JPG" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;17.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2T_obaO46Bo"&gt;Curtis....&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Okay, this has nothing to do with Boston, but it was the most quoted video of the trip. You should watch it.)&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18.&lt;/strong&gt; Three girls from Georgia visiting Boston are "real Southern belles" to a waiter from Boston.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399315653476939762" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su44-uOy9_I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/gEYB-6JJgPQ/s200/Boston+038.JPG" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8692725700155921069?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8692725700155921069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/11/lessons-learned-in-boston.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8692725700155921069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8692725700155921069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/11/lessons-learned-in-boston.html' title='Lessons Learned in Boston'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Su5HWEZgFMI/AAAAAAAAALo/K4DNNrEAc7E/s72-c/boots.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-5045695789472958090</id><published>2009-10-27T18:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T18:53:29.904-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Running around like a chicken with my head cut off.</title><content type='html'>Is what I feel like at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I am thankful for a job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-5045695789472958090?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/5045695789472958090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/running-around-like-chicken-with-my.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/5045695789472958090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/5045695789472958090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/running-around-like-chicken-with-my.html' title='Running around like a chicken with my head cut off.'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8857536738987669797</id><published>2009-10-25T18:58:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T19:10:00.923-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Fun</title><content type='html'>Some friends came over last week to have a chili-eating, pumpkin-carving party. We had a great time...here are a few pictures from the night, and of our finished products!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396678155993259154" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTaMKcWnJI/AAAAAAAAAKI/l2MMKL3oDA8/s320/fall+2009+012.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; mine&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396677721164110914" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTZy2lAXEI/AAAAAAAAAKA/CEsJo7nL4_I/s320/fall+2009+040.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTZecwvCZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Wlx8xRV-5rg/s1600-h/fall+2009+052.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396677370636601746" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTZecwvCZI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Wlx8xRV-5rg/s320/fall+2009+052.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laurie's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTZKCB1UiI/AAAAAAAAAJw/hKNz0TNmfyY/s1600-h/fall+2009+038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396677019863175714" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTZKCB1UiI/AAAAAAAAAJw/hKNz0TNmfyY/s320/fall+2009+038.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396676553445016082" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTYu4fFAhI/AAAAAAAAAJo/DriT4R2A_cU/s320/fall+2009+059.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8857536738987669797?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8857536738987669797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8857536738987669797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8857536738987669797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall-fun.html' title='Fall Fun'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SuTaMKcWnJI/AAAAAAAAAKI/l2MMKL3oDA8/s72-c/fall+2009+012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-7718455473646852517</id><published>2009-10-16T11:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T11:46:16.372-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Breathe in...</title><content type='html'>...breathe out. Finally. I'm doing it again, breathing. Life is looking up. I (think I) know what I'm doing with my life, where I'm going, where I'm living, where I'm working. Although, I should know more than anyone that making plans doesn't necessarily mean anything; if it's not what God wants, He'll change your (my) plans. But, for now, this little bit of stability is enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got some good news yesterday. I passed the NBCOT! I literally had tears in my eyes while I was checking my score online, because I was so afraid I had failed. When I saw that incredible 6-letter word....passed....I thought my heart would burst from happiness. I looked at it for a while, to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me, then jumped up and down (literally), called my mama and screamed into the phone that I PASSED!!!! I called my daddy, and he laughed, and called my grandma, and she said she wasn't surprised :) {But I certainly was!} Lindsey called (she found out her score yesterday too), and our conversation went something like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phone rings...&lt;br /&gt;Me: The scores are posted.&lt;br /&gt;L: I know, did you check?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Did you?&lt;br /&gt;L: Did you?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes, did you?&lt;br /&gt;L: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Did you pass?&lt;br /&gt;L: Did you pass?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes, did you?&lt;br /&gt;L: Yes!&lt;br /&gt;*Lots of screaming*&lt;br /&gt;(This all took about 3.5 seconds...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Statesboro to have lunch with my mama, Madelyn, and my aunt and cousin. I pulled out my Chris Tomlin CD to listen to on the way, and was overwhelmed by the love I felt from our Heavenly Father. I know that there is NO way I could've passed this test without Him. This was a HUGE answered prayer. I had tears in my eyes the whole ride there, with a fresh realization that God is on my side, that He cares for me, loves me, and has my best interests at heart. The night before, as I was doing my quiet time, the book I'm using (Solo) suggested to pray and ask God to reveal Himself in a new way. I prayed this prayer, and He certainly did reveal Himself to me! I am so thankful for His kindness and love, and for all of the blessings He so generously gives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Indescribable, uncontainable,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You placed the stars in the sky and &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You know them by name.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are amazing God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All powerful, untameable,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are amazing God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;~"Indescribable," Chris Tomlin&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-7718455473646852517?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/7718455473646852517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/breathe-in.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7718455473646852517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7718455473646852517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/breathe-in.html' title='Breathe in...'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-7696471630250820627</id><published>2009-10-14T14:53:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T15:05:26.631-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fair!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StYfJW4lPGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/00S6vNbEuP0/s1600-h/fall+2009+014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392531849444932706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StYfJW4lPGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/00S6vNbEuP0/s320/fall+2009+014.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yesterday we went to the fair, and took Madelyn with us. I love the fair! We've gone every year (that I can remember) since I was a little girl. One of my earliest memories is riding on the Ferris Wheel with my Daddy...I remember closing my eyes the entire time because I was scared :) I'm not a big rider, but I love walking around and people-watching. And eating pancakes and sausage at the pancake house, of course. This year it was so sweet to carry Madelyn around and see her reaction to everything. She and her Mama rode on the Merry-Go-Round; I don't think she knew what to think about it! She also had her first taste of cotton candy...I think she liked it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392531066165579810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StYebw8O0CI/AAAAAAAAAJA/DZjNlQe6xGc/s320/fair+collage.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-7696471630250820627?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/7696471630250820627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/fair.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7696471630250820627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7696471630250820627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/fair.html' title='The Fair!'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StYfJW4lPGI/AAAAAAAAAJI/00S6vNbEuP0/s72-c/fall+2009+014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-3256293057452193640</id><published>2009-10-05T23:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T23:55:09.598-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I still dream about it. Last night, it was the day of the wedding. Guests were already arriving at the church. I was in my wedding dress. I was a wreck. I knew I was doing the wrong thing. There was no happiness, no joy, on this wedding day. Not the way it should be. I finally broke down and told my Daddy that I couldn't do it, that I didn't want to get married, that I didn't want to do the wrong thing. He immediately said that was alright, and we should go announce to the people in the church that there wouldn't be a wedding. I was relieved, but sad and upset that that was happening, that I had caused it. I was crying, wishing it was just a dream. And I woke up this morning, and it was just a dream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Only, really it wasn't a dream. It happened. Not exactly like that, not that close to the wedding, but still, it happened. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And I still grieve over it. I still hurt for hurting others. I still ache for the pain I caused him. I am still embarrassed that I planned a wedding then called it off. I am still sorry that my parents had to deal with undoing everything that I had done. I am still grateful that my parents supported me. I am still thankful for my friends who helped me through rough times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And I still dream about it. And I wish I didn't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-3256293057452193640?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/3256293057452193640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/dreams.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/3256293057452193640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/3256293057452193640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/10/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-1608624170712169786</id><published>2009-09-28T22:21:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T22:41:43.092-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling Crafty</title><content type='html'>I love making things! I get it from my Mama...she's the most crafty, creative person I know. Here are a few things I've done over the summer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stole this idea from Laurie B. ... I bought stools from JoAnn's and painted them as gifts for 2 little boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386712020380116658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFyCuIVZrI/AAAAAAAAAIU/WPj0sud_miA/s320/summer+2009+018.JPG" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; I found a &lt;a href="http://www.dana-made-it.com/2008/06/tutorial-quilted-notecards.html"&gt;quilted notecard tutorial&lt;/a&gt; and made these super-easy notecards with fabric scraps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386711591443099618" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFxpwNx7-I/AAAAAAAAAIM/O2wvmQHP2og/s320/summer+2009+053.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are some bags I made as graduation gifts for my sweet OT friends. My mama monogrammed them on her new machine. (Since she got a new sewing/monogramming machine she let me have her old one. Yay!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386711123906741138" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFxOigbQ5I/AAAAAAAAAIE/ZIXLdb_GGuE/s320/summer+2009+056.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a lot of fabric left over from the bags, so I made a dress for my niece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386710181858753458" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFwXtGru7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/Jbz0fVOIZy8/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+001.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I made her a stool for her 1st birthday. Thanks Laurie for sharing this idea!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386709807781731378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFwB7jxXDI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aNGfrwfAXiA/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+003.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386709423078769202" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFvribcAjI/AAAAAAAAAHs/Od_JPa8Tn8E/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+004.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-1608624170712169786?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/1608624170712169786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/09/feeling-crafty.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/1608624170712169786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/1608624170712169786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/09/feeling-crafty.html' title='Feeling Crafty'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SsFyCuIVZrI/AAAAAAAAAIU/WPj0sud_miA/s72-c/summer+2009+018.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8963237880171265351</id><published>2009-09-21T18:42:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T19:04:05.238-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sweet Girl Turns 1!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgFLNa0ulI/AAAAAAAAAHk/1Rbm2j9sRNI/s1600-h/madelyn%27s+birthday+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384059044660296274" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgFLNa0ulI/AAAAAAAAAHk/1Rbm2j9sRNI/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+005.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On September 19, my sweet niece Madelyn turned 1 year old! This year has flown by. I remember how excited we were when we found out my brother and sister-in-law were expecting, then how happy we were when we found out it was going to be a little girl. And how we all sat in the hospital waiting room anxiously awaiting her arrival. It's hard to believe that's been over a year ago! She is the most beautiful little girl with the sweetest spirit. She is so happy and brings so much joy to my heart. She is so blessed to have such awesome parents. This is one loved little girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Madelyn and Aunt Mal Mal the day she was born.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384058559735037746" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgEu-7ofzI/AAAAAAAAAHc/4fjo4Z_5oXY/s320/madelyn+021.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on her birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgELZ9mOSI/AAAAAAAAAHU/meifEZITba4/s1600-h/madelyn%27s+birthday+015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384057948515744034" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgELZ9mOSI/AAAAAAAAAHU/meifEZITba4/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+015.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgDzwAePFI/AAAAAAAAAHM/vHRcSIAgrkg/s1600-h/madelyn%27s+birthday+021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384057542116523090" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgDzwAePFI/AAAAAAAAAHM/vHRcSIAgrkg/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+021.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384057076301232066" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgDYotc98I/AAAAAAAAAHE/l3WHFrBFVwc/s320/madelyn%27s+birthday+035.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jesus said, " Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." ~Matthew 19:14&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8963237880171265351?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8963237880171265351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/09/sweet-girl-turns-1.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8963237880171265351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8963237880171265351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/09/sweet-girl-turns-1.html' title='A Sweet Girl Turns 1!'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrgFLNa0ulI/AAAAAAAAAHk/1Rbm2j9sRNI/s72-c/madelyn%27s+birthday+005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-2814880307967187130</id><published>2009-09-16T12:44:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T17:10:25.555-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chronicles of South Dakota</title><content type='html'>Last week my parents and I went on vacation to South Dakota. Well, it was supposed to be &lt;em&gt;their &lt;/em&gt;vacation but they asked me to go with them since I'm not in school anymore and don't have a job yet. It was so nice to get {far} away from everything and see things I've never seen before! Here are some pictures from the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;leaving on a jet plane...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382117541408420466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEfY2MMMnI/AAAAAAAAAG8/vTCUKo7hygw/s320/south+dakota+015.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We flew into Rapid City on Sunday. It was late (Georgia-time) by the time we got to the hotel, so&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;we ate supper at Arnold's, a 50's-style diner, and went back to the hotel and went to bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;On Monday we got up and drove to the Badlands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEe1b8PX4I/AAAAAAAAAG0/LzYxygVSarM/s1600-h/south+dakota+020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382116933066776450" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEe1b8PX4I/AAAAAAAAAG0/LzYxygVSarM/s320/south+dakota+020.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped at Wall Drug Store, the world's largest drug store. It was started in the 1930's; business picked up after they started advertising "free ice water." They still serve free ice water, and 5 cent coffee as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEd4AMteZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/yabBKM-gEn4/s1600-h/south+dakota+051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382115877647645074" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEd4AMteZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/yabBKM-gEn4/s320/south+dakota+051.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pictures just don't do it justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEcPusEf-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/VzqMZKIsXgQ/s1600-h/south+dakota+035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382114086240944098" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEcPusEf-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/VzqMZKIsXgQ/s320/south+dakota+035.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEaoLHWK5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/y1g6y83vPCY/s1600-h/south+dakota+044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382112307165146002" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEaoLHWK5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/y1g6y83vPCY/s320/south+dakota+044.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEaQxOySKI/AAAAAAAAAGU/reczmBQws8s/s1600-h/south+dakota+065.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382111905080035490" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEaQxOySKI/AAAAAAAAAGU/reczmBQws8s/s320/south+dakota+065.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday, we went on a bus tour and got to see a lot of the SD sites. First stop...Mt. Rushmore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEZyp2ReaI/AAAAAAAAAGM/VLuDBIRgpwg/s1600-h/mtrush.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382111387702098338" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEZyp2ReaI/AAAAAAAAAGM/VLuDBIRgpwg/s320/mtrush.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEZaAtLFVI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Q-SCRUPCg50/s1600-h/south+dakota+092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382110964341216594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEZaAtLFVI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Q-SCRUPCg50/s320/south+dakota+092.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This cave was 8 feet 4 inches wide. Our bus was 8 feet wide. We drove through it. Yes, I'm serious. The people on the other side didn't think we would make it through, but we did...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEZDBn5HEI/AAAAAAAAAF8/7tQ_KzadROs/s1600-h/south+dakota+104.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382110569450511426" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEZDBn5HEI/AAAAAAAAAF8/7tQ_KzadROs/s320/south+dakota+104.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvan Lake, where part of &lt;em&gt;National Treasure: Book of Secrets &lt;/em&gt;was filmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382109894456961186" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEYbvE46KI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ftv7QCoJWnw/s320/south+dakota+107.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy Horse, a memorial to the Lakota leader Crazy Horse; started in 1948.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382109372858184754" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEX9X-DNDI/AAAAAAAAAFs/g3VL74DcuS8/s320/south+dakota+108.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday, we drove to Wyoming and saw Devil's Tower. One popular Indian legend about the tower claims that some little girls were playing around some rocks when a bear came after them. They climbed up onto one of the rocks, and the Great Spirit caused the rock to grow up out of the ground to keep the bear from getting to the girls. The bear kept trying to jump up the rock but would just claw at the rock and fall to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382108757327386818" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEXZi8EmMI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UcHgI-LQu2M/s320/south+dakota+113.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a great trip, but as always, there's no place like home!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-2814880307967187130?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/2814880307967187130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/09/chronicles-of-south-dakota.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2814880307967187130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2814880307967187130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/09/chronicles-of-south-dakota.html' title='Chronicles of South Dakota'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SrEfY2MMMnI/AAAAAAAAAG8/vTCUKo7hygw/s72-c/south+dakota+015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-7808828666485244566</id><published>2009-08-19T19:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T19:47:15.205-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;...about this little girl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;How could you not be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 325px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371825278184345842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SoyOoR2kUPI/AAAAAAAAAFY/EMa-Pv8tBSc/s320/summer+2009+088.JPG" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-7808828666485244566?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/7808828666485244566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/08/crazy.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7808828666485244566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7808828666485244566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/08/crazy.html' title='Crazy...'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SoyOoR2kUPI/AAAAAAAAAFY/EMa-Pv8tBSc/s72-c/summer+2009+088.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8915146998529647986</id><published>2009-08-04T20:19:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T20:54:37.034-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big 2-5!</title><content type='html'>On July 31, I turned 25. A quarter of a century old. The age in which you can rent a car. And get kicked off your parent's health insurance :) My brother, whose birthday is July 21, and I had a joint family birthday dinner at my parents house. I don't have any pictures but we had a great time celebrating our first birthdays with a niece (me) and a daughter (him). And my Mama made some delicious birthday cakes...key lime for Landon and chocolate with cream-cheese filling for me. Yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was in Augusta on my actual birthday, which happened to be the last day of my Fieldwork, which means I am officially done with grad school (and school period, for that matter)! Great day to celebrate! My friends and I went to eat dinner at White Elephant, then went to Tropicabana for salsa night. Only, when we got there, we found out that it was hip-hop night instead. We stayed anyway :) We had a great time, although none of us are exactly hip-hop dancers...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366276548688280194" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SnjYFtsS-oI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Mc76E0KYK38/s320/summer+2009+018.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366275216518500882" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SnjW4K-RUhI/AAAAAAAAAFA/eI_sB4joGns/s320/summer+2009+011.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366273777293751810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SnjVkZcWdgI/AAAAAAAAAEw/oQigYfEZXOY/s320/summer+2009+033.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8915146998529647986?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8915146998529647986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/08/big-2-5.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8915146998529647986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8915146998529647986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/08/big-2-5.html' title='The Big 2-5!'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SnjYFtsS-oI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Mc76E0KYK38/s72-c/summer+2009+018.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8951606883107548549</id><published>2009-07-28T18:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T18:35:16.564-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise Lingerie Shower!</title><content type='html'>A couple of weekends ago, some friends and I drove up to Atlanta for our friend Laurie A.'s surprise lingerie shower. Her bachelorette party was earlier that night; she and her friends went to see a Braves game. Unfortunately, because of work, none of the Augusta girls could make it up there in time for the game. But, we found out that her sister had planned a surprise lingerie shower at a hotel in Atlanta for after the game. So we decided to drive up to Atlanta to surprise her at her surprise lingerie shower! We had a great time hanging out. Everyone but Natalie was able to go...we missed you Natalie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363641156448451074" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sm97NsjGegI/AAAAAAAAADw/qQNDxvvxUm4/s320/summer+2009+015.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363641598559780978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sm97nbiqAHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/e6egBeDaTKI/s320/summer+2009+017.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All 5 of us slept in a room with 2 full size beds, and the hotel wouldn't give us a roll-away cot. So, thanks to Lindsey's great idea we pushed the beds together (which fortunately weren't "sewn" to the walls...haha Laurie B.), and slept quite comfortably :) It was a quick trip, we drove up there Friday night and drove back Saturday morning. Luckily, we made it home in 1 piece...a Bainbridge girl driving in Atlanta with a Metter girl giving her directions isn't always the safest thing :) Laurie A., we were so excited to share this special time with you, and we can't wait for your wedding!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8951606883107548549?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8951606883107548549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/surprise-lingerie-shower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8951606883107548549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8951606883107548549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/surprise-lingerie-shower.html' title='Surprise Lingerie Shower!'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sm97NsjGegI/AAAAAAAAADw/qQNDxvvxUm4/s72-c/summer+2009+015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-6809955785690194873</id><published>2009-07-17T17:07:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T17:11:40.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilt, revisited</title><content type='html'>I wrote about feeling guilty a while back, &lt;a href="http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/guilt.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. I read this blog post about guilt today. Now, it's a completely different view of guilt. She is writing from a mother's perspective, a lot different from the perspective I was writing from. But, it was a great post and I wanted to share it with  you. Click &lt;a href="http://katherineawolf.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-not-hard-for-me-to-feel-guilty.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to read it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-6809955785690194873?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/6809955785690194873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/guilt-revisited.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6809955785690194873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6809955785690194873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/guilt-revisited.html' title='Guilt, revisited'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-4590795551107991309</id><published>2009-07-17T08:55:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T08:58:18.864-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid</title><content type='html'>I woke up feeling stupid today. The bridesmaid dresses are in, and my mama is going to pick them up. And I have to decide what I want the girls to do with them. Hang on to them for a little while? Try to sell them? Donate them? I just feel stupid that I'm making them have to deal with this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-4590795551107991309?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/4590795551107991309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/stupid.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4590795551107991309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4590795551107991309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/stupid.html' title='Stupid'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-9042423056592506169</id><published>2009-07-13T17:36:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T17:54:07.759-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Project OT</title><content type='html'>This is the project I made for my pediatric fieldwork site. I got the idea from a catalog at the clinic, and decided to make one for the project I am required to do. All of the pieces are connected by different fasteners....buttons, snaps, velcro, zippers, and laces....for a fun way to help kids learn how to use fasteners. I shouldn't say I made it, I had A LOT of help from my Mama. She is the most talented seamstress I know. She had to teach me how to make buttonholes, sew in zippers, when to use a zigzag stitch opposed to a regular stitch, etc., etc., etc. I wish I could sew like she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358062415285257186" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlupYONzA-I/AAAAAAAAADQ/eiLkX_NueXo/s320/summer+2009+007.JPG" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were fun little "surprises" underneath each piece...smiley faces, rainbows, butterflies, birds, cats, dogs, a treasure chest, and a little person behind the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358065389993048194" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlusFX3ZuII/AAAAAAAAADo/R2LSYCF6HFQ/s320/summer+2009+011.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Madelyn wanted to help out while I was working on it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358063216943654226" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SluqG4oDZVI/AAAAAAAAADg/ivMz2Yv3uAc/s320/spring+2009+001.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-9042423056592506169?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/9042423056592506169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/project-ot.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/9042423056592506169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/9042423056592506169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/project-ot.html' title='Project OT'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlupYONzA-I/AAAAAAAAADQ/eiLkX_NueXo/s72-c/summer+2009+007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-6150150792421137204</id><published>2009-07-13T17:14:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T17:35:00.437-04:00</updated><title type='text'>But we don't wanna leave!!!</title><content type='html'>This sign showed up in our yard over the weekend. I almost cried when I saw it. I don't want our house to be for rent! I love our little house! I don't want to leave!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358057184402750370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SluknvqOO6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/3oPJzTAhxiI/s320/summer+2009+002.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; Laura feels the same way....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358056858519447522" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlukUxplp-I/AAAAAAAAACw/AIe7X0w3bTU/s320/summer+2009+001.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358058137902526498" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlulfPuSMCI/AAAAAAAAADA/z9O3c6muPNI/s320/summer+2009+004.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358058475201248578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sluly4QkPUI/AAAAAAAAADI/8wJV8Kx79xM/s320/summer+2009+005.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Honestly, we don't know how that sign ended up on the ground! Maybe the wind blew it over?? Maybe somebody ran over it?? But I guess it's a little harder to see if it's laying flat on the ground...we &lt;em&gt;could&lt;/em&gt; go pick it up, but then people would think our house is for rent....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was all funny last night, then I got a phone call from the lady who handles our landlord's rental stuff for him this afternoon. Crap. How did they know we kicked the sign over then didn't pick it back up? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Luckily, she was just verifying that we were indeed staying through August. She said if the sign bothered us, we could take it down and put it on the front porch :) Which is just where it's about to go...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hopefully, if everything works out like we want it to, we'll stay in our house through January, which will give us a little more time in this place that we love. Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll keep you posted!&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/7607116822843263880-6150150792421137204?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/6150150792421137204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/but-we-dont-wanna-leave.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6150150792421137204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6150150792421137204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/but-we-dont-wanna-leave.html' title='But we don&apos;t wanna leave!!!'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SluknvqOO6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/3oPJzTAhxiI/s72-c/summer+2009+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-2008521363075595007</id><published>2009-07-06T21:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T21:57:11.678-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing says summer like....</title><content type='html'>...watermelon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 248px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 321px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355530808426366354" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlKq5TvqBZI/AAAAAAAAACo/fFboMoly49E/s320/spring+2009+012.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355530152631740690" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlKqTIuCKRI/AAAAAAAAACY/CtdxYnrwrSc/s320/spring+2009+007.JPG" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlKqpPttycI/AAAAAAAAACg/pxUoRwkSD-4/s1600-h/spring+2009+010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355530532466575810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlKqpPttycI/AAAAAAAAACg/pxUoRwkSD-4/s320/spring+2009+010.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-2008521363075595007?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/2008521363075595007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/nothing-says-summer-like.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2008521363075595007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/2008521363075595007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/07/nothing-says-summer-like.html' title='Nothing says summer like....'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/SlKq5TvqBZI/AAAAAAAAACo/fFboMoly49E/s72-c/spring+2009+012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-1576129134997375594</id><published>2009-06-29T17:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T18:01:28.910-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheese!!!....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Skk36a9OKxI/AAAAAAAAACI/mF0GTSQ3IBc/s1600-h/spring+2009+133.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352871108914588434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Skk36a9OKxI/AAAAAAAAACI/mF0GTSQ3IBc/s320/spring+2009+133.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352872814207487490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Skk5drquzgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/t1ysTKeLj7s/s320/spring+2009+132.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; ...and butterbeans and potatoes, all over her sweet face! Isn't she cute?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-1576129134997375594?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/1576129134997375594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/cheese.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/1576129134997375594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/1576129134997375594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/cheese.html' title='Cheese!!!....'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Skk36a9OKxI/AAAAAAAAACI/mF0GTSQ3IBc/s72-c/spring+2009+133.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-4210128005856956307</id><published>2009-06-24T19:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T19:40:27.287-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It Happens</title><content type='html'>For those of you who are &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.sugarlandmusic.com"&gt;Sugarland&lt;/a&gt; fans, you've probably heard their latest single out on the radio, "It Happens." I have had one of those days where "it" certainly has happened. For those who haven't heard the song, here are some of the lyrics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Missed my alarm clock ringing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Woke up, telephone screaming&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Boss man singing that same old song&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rolled in late about an hour&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No cup of coffee no shower&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Walk of shame with two different shoes on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now it's poor me why me oh me boring&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The same old worn out blah blah story&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's no good explanation for it at all&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ain't no rhyme or reason&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No complicated meaning&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ain't no need to overthink it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let go laughing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life don't go quite like you planned it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We try so hard to understand it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Irrefutable indisputable fact is, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It happens&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how my day has gone: I was excited about getting to go into work late: I was going to sleep in, then have a relaxing morning before going to work. Woke up with a headache. Got up and took some Advil and went back to bed. Slept longer than I planned on. Walked into the bathroom to take a shower, and saw a roach on the ledge over my linen closet (we live in an old house where there are plenty of cracks and places for roaches to get in). Got the roach spray. Sprayed the roach. After it jumped off of the ledge (yes, it &lt;em&gt;jumped)&lt;/em&gt;, onto the floor, crawled back onto the wall and all the way around my bathroom, it jumped (again) into my bathtub. Luckily it landed on it's back and couldn't run away, so I sprayed it (a lot) with roach spray and smushed it with my shoe. On with my morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got into the shower, turned the water on, started to wash my hair, and noticed some little black specks all over the side of the shower. Ants. Lots of little tiny ants. Apparently, they had come in through the small window over my shower. Decided I'd finish showering since I was already wet, then spray them. Apparently, if that crack in the window was big enough for ants to crawl through, it was also big enough for the &lt;em&gt;spider &lt;/em&gt;(not a small one) to crawl through, which I saw when I turned around. I'm pretty sure I said an ugly word then. I decided to kill the spider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened the shower door to grap my flip-flop. Leaned over with one hand onto my (cheap) laundry basket to steady myself while I reached to the floor to pick up the shoe. The top of the laundry basket collapsed. Arm went in, all the way to the bottom, while the corner of the basket poked me in the chest. Luckily, I caught myself with the other hand before hitting the floor face first, soaking wet, and in my birthday suit. Got the shoe, killed the spider, finished my shower, sprayed the ants, got out of the shower, and realized I was bleeding from where I cut myself shaving. Seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I got ready in a hurry, rushed off to work, stopping by the store first to buy a box of Jello mix for a patient who didn't even show up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Called the bug man on the way to work. He sprayed this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in spite of all of this, it was a good day. Praise God. How was your day?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-4210128005856956307?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/4210128005856956307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/it-happens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4210128005856956307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/4210128005856956307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/it-happens.html' title='It Happens'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-1872642700232288246</id><published>2009-06-20T21:17:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T22:01:17.722-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Parents</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sj2UKP9Vd7I/AAAAAAAAACA/LYTb6xJxZSA/s1600-h/6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349594836189411250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sj2UKP9Vd7I/AAAAAAAAACA/LYTb6xJxZSA/s320/6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I have been wanting to blog about my parents, and with Father's Day being tomorrow, I figured now would be a good time. I was planning to post a Mother's Day blog about my mama, but there were so many other (not good) things going on around that time that I never did it. So, this will be a combination for both of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have the best parents ever. Period. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They have been so unbelievably supportive during this difficult time that I know I would have never made it through without them. For the past month and a half, I have not been a pleasant person to be around. Scratch that. I have been miserable to be around, and have made everyone around me miserable. But they never stopped supporting me, encouraging me, or even &lt;em&gt;wanting&lt;/em&gt; to be around me. I don't know why they do these things, but my mama keeps saying that I'll understand one day when I have children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I first told them that I was having thoughts about breaking the engagement, they told me they would support me 110% in whatever I decided to do. If I wanted to call off the wedding, they would be behind me all the way. If I decided to go through with it, they would also be behind me all the way. What?? After all the money they had already spent on the wedding, they would be ok with, and even &lt;em&gt;support&lt;/em&gt; me calling it off? And with the second thoughts I was having, they would be ok with, and even &lt;em&gt;support&lt;/em&gt; me deciding to walk down the aisle? Part of me wanted them to just tell me what to do. But the other part of me is so thankful that they love me and trust my judgement enough to want me to make that huge decision on my own. All they wanted was for me to be happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They have held me when I've cried, given me advice when I've needed it, driven to Augusta just to be there with me during some of my darkest days, sat in the waiting room while I've talked to counselors when I just didn't think I could go alone, listened, comforted, prayed, loved. And dealt with the logistics of un-planning a wedding. I haven't heard a word from my daddy about the money he had already spent on the wedding, except to say that he would rather pay for all my bridesmaids dresses that they aren't going to wear than have me get married to someone and be unhappy. And my mama has made so many phone calls to "un-do" things that I've hardly had to do anything. She covered all the bases, and then some. And the crazy thing is, they haven't been upset with me about doing all of this. They were even &lt;em&gt;glad &lt;/em&gt;to do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This has all been in the past month and a half. I could go on and on and on about everything else they've done, but it would take a book, or more. I can truly say that I can look at their love for me, their daughter, and compare it to God's love for me, His child. I'm lucky, some people aren't able to look at the way their parents have related to them and make that comparison. But then again, not everyone is lucky enough to have parents like mine :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Happy Father's Day, Daddy, and Happy (Late) Mother's Day, Mama! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mallory&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-1872642700232288246?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/1872642700232288246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-parents.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/1872642700232288246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/1872642700232288246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-parents.html' title='My Parents'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/Sj2UKP9Vd7I/AAAAAAAAACA/LYTb6xJxZSA/s72-c/6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-6701101147447460176</id><published>2009-06-17T19:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T19:17:13.988-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Song</title><content type='html'>The pathway is broken, and the signs are unclear&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know the reason why You brought me here&lt;br /&gt;But just because You love me the way that You do&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna walk through the valley, if You want me to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'm not who I was, when I took my first step&lt;br /&gt;And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet&lt;br /&gt;So if all of these trials bring me closer to You&lt;br /&gt;Then I will walk through the fire if You want me to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may not be the way I would have chosen&lt;br /&gt;When you lead me through a world that's not my home&lt;br /&gt;But You never said it would be easy&lt;br /&gt;You only said I'd never go alone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when the whole world turns against me, and I'm all by myself&lt;br /&gt;And I can't hear You answer my cries for help&lt;br /&gt;I'll remember the suffering that Your love put You through&lt;br /&gt;And I will walk through the valley if You want me to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"If You Want Me To"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ginny Owens&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-6701101147447460176?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/6701101147447460176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6701101147447460176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6701101147447460176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/good-song.html' title='Good Song'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-6218460768448092373</id><published>2009-06-15T20:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T20:42:03.227-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilt</title><content type='html'>I feel guilty when I feel better. People tell me I shouldn't, but I can't help it. For the past month (or more), I have been wondering if I was EVER going to feel better, happy, joyful, etc again. And over the past week or so, when I have caught glimpses of feeling better, I feel guilty about it, and go back to feeling bad again. I just feel like I have hurt him so badly that I don't deserve to be happy, that I should pay for it by feeling miserable. And seeing his facebook status that he "wants to crawl in a hole and die" certainly doesn't help. And those I haven't hurt, I've made angry. I know if a girl had done this to my brother, I would be angry at her for hurting him. And those I haven't hurt, I've disappointed. There was supposed to be a wedding on August 29. And those I haven't disppointed, I've inconvenienced. People have made plans, spent money, bought gifts, reserved dates, and on and on and on. So, I feel like since I have caused so much pain, anger, disappointment, and inconvenience, I should feel guilty and I shouldn't be happy. I've caused suffering, so I should suffer too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to a (Christian) friend today who was asking me how I was feeling. I told her about feeling guilty for feeling better. She immediately and very confidently told me that was the devil. I was a little taken aback because her response was so sudden, but after thinking about it, I agree with her. She said that feeling guilty is from the devil, because I prayerfully made this choice and feel like it was the right thing to do, so of course, the devil is trying to make me feel bad and guilty about this decision. That's what he does, right? She went on to say that that should be more affirmation that I did the right thing, because if I had made the WRONG choice by getting married, the devil would be happy because that's what he wanted (to be out of God's will) and he wouldn't have to make me feel guilty. I can't explain it as well as she did, but it gave me a different perspective on these guilty feelings I've been having.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the words of Jesus...."Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men." Matthew 16:23&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-6218460768448092373?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/6218460768448092373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/guilt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6218460768448092373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/6218460768448092373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/guilt.html' title='Guilt'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-7412230277279856995</id><published>2009-06-13T15:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T15:51:05.457-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Undone</title><content type='html'>So many things have to be undone. It makes me feel sick to think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wedding and reception locations to cancel.&lt;br /&gt;Officiants and musicians to cancel.&lt;br /&gt;Caterers to cancel.&lt;br /&gt;D.J. to cancel.&lt;br /&gt;Gifts to return.&lt;br /&gt;Registries to cancel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things can't be undone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bridesmaids have already paid for their dresses, and can't get their money back.&lt;br /&gt;We've already paid a 50% non-refundable deposit on the photographer.&lt;br /&gt;My Mama has spent hours and hours making a "model" wedding dress to be sure it was perfect and exactly what I wanted. She just bought the fabric for the real dress.&lt;br /&gt;There have been engagement announcements in 2 newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;We've already had an engagement party and a couples shower.&lt;br /&gt;There was a wedding shower planned for today, and invitations had already been sent out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have been so kind to offer to help me (I know my Mama and best friend would do WHATEVER I asked them to, and I am so thankful for that), and not to worry about any of it, but I feel like I should have to do it. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; made this decision, now &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; should have to pay the consequences. I just can't seem to muster up the courage or energy to do it. Some days just getting out of bed in the morning seems like an overwhelming task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of all of this undoing, I feel like I'm coming undone, and I'm not sure how to put myself back together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-7412230277279856995?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/7412230277279856995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/undone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7412230277279856995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/7412230277279856995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/undone.html' title='Undone'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7607116822843263880.post-8173736151039295287</id><published>2009-06-10T20:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T20:15:25.801-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life</title><content type='html'>This isn't how I planned it. This is not where I wanted to be at 24 years old. Almost done with school...yes. Thinking about finding a real job...yes. A broken engagement...not so much. I'm not sure where to go from here, but I thought writing about it may help, since talking isn't my strong point. Just ask my Mama :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7607116822843263880-8173736151039295287?l=newdaymallory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/feeds/8173736151039295287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8173736151039295287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7607116822843263880/posts/default/8173736151039295287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newdaymallory.blogspot.com/2009/06/life.html' title='Life'/><author><name>Mallory</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09700918955085437003</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZPn6VlgNos/StJrxh4124I/AAAAAAAAAIc/4LHVGuL9nlw/S220/profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
