<?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-27123242</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:03:44.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bits and Pieces from Katie</title><subtitle type='html'>This and that about now and then.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-116542536089840442</id><published>2006-12-06T09:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T09:16:00.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"The chocolate Labrador puppy had been wandering around the house for hours poking his nose into every little nook. He was doing fine until he came to the top of steps that went down tothe basement. He spend several minutes trying to figure out what to do. Then he..." (Using a dog as inspiration I wrote...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was going on? They had gone away and he was not in his big wire kennel.  Did they forget? After several minutes, Kipper laid down, but kept his ears cocked and his eyes trained on the door where his family had exited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waking, Kipper was immediately on his feet and running. Down the hall, over the bed, back down the hall and under the table. Finally stoppng to lap his fill of water. Now he began checking along the base of the cupboards. Nothing this time so he continued to the other places that were most likely to yield a tidbit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where was everyone? This wasn't right. Sniffing along, he came to the couch. He was now tall enoguht to place his head on the cuchion. Why not? He jumped, walked back and forth, then curled to rest his head on his paws. It was confrotable here but every time he drifted off, he thought he heard something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His crate door was open. He jumped down and went in. Soon he rolled onto his back and began snoring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-116542536089840442?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/116542536089840442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=116542536089840442' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116542536089840442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116542536089840442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/12/chocolate-labrador-puppy-had-been.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-116542241736145944</id><published>2006-12-06T08:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T08:32:08.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;comment for anyone reading these: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I am not hung up on the morbid thoughts coming through in many of these replies.  I just have a story line in my mind that keeps trying to get written.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"She wasn't sure what woke her up. She pretended to still be asleep, but she opened her eyes just a crack. All she could see was darkness. Kim was abut to go back to sleep when" she heard the string to the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling being jerked. The covers disappeared over the foot of the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulling herself into a fetal position, Kim pleaded, "No, please, no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The calloused hand gripped Kim's hair and, as if she was shaking out a bed sheet, brought Kim into a standing position. "How dare you! You think you can get away with it. Well, you can't . You are a worthless piece of crap."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Staring at the broom handle being raised over Mother's head Kim snapped.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-116542241736145944?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/116542241736145944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=116542241736145944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116542241736145944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116542241736145944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/12/comment-for-anyone-reading-these-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-116517195546832035</id><published>2006-12-03T10:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-03T10:52:35.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Another Blip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"I knelt down and slowly started picking up the pieces of the shattered vase.  The roses were already wilting."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why was she so violent?  What had I done?  She hated me and always had.  Over and over she'd told me that I was the cause of all her miseries.  I was worse than all her other eight children put together.  She wished I had never been born and she prayed for the day I would be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only when I flet the prick and saw the blood on my finger did I begin to cry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-116517195546832035?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/116517195546832035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=116517195546832035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116517195546832035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116517195546832035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/12/another-blip-i-knelt-down-and-slowly.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-116516192676671309</id><published>2006-12-03T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-03T08:05:26.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Written from Blip from Tropical Screamer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"She walked as quietly as she could down the dark, rain slicked back street. The dampness of the air and crisp breeze chilled her to the bone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knew it was stupid for her to be walking alone in the middle of the night" but the idea of surprising her sister with her arrival from California had seemed like such a wonderful idea. The Greyhound had been late but she had caught the last city bus, ridden it to the end of the line, and begun the five-block walk. Now she pulled the scarf tighter around her head and bent into the cold Michigan wind that she had all but forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A car came from behind her, slowing as it neared her. Holding her breath, Carol kept her eyes down and her feet moving. The car accelerated and with a sigh, she looked up to note the two young male occupants. She was safe. Oh, no. The car was turning around. Again it slowed. Carol was careful to keep her head turned away. Soon the car had made another turn around and came to a crawl beside her. The passenger asked the question, "Want a ride?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carol tired to ignore him as he repeated the question. Suddenly she turned to the car and asked, "Tony?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Carol? Is that really my adventurous sister come back home?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-116516192676671309?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/116516192676671309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=116516192676671309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116516192676671309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/116516192676671309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/12/written-from-blip-from-tropical.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-115203571873392795</id><published>2006-07-04T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-04T10:55:18.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Americans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people are asked to describe ten things about themselves, they find it easy to list their faults but harder to tell their positives.  This can also be true when describing Americans.   On this our Independence day, I'm going to try.  In no way does this mean I don't acknowledge our many faults nor does it mean that the people in other countries don't also have postitives.  I have not listed these in any special order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; * Liberty, based in the &lt;em&gt;Constitution &lt;/em&gt;and especially the &lt;em&gt;Bill of Rights&lt;/em&gt;, is the foundation we live by.  We are still trying to interpret these freedoms but they are the basis of our daily lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We have a beautiful, plentiful land to live in whether it be the mountains, deserts, praires, forests, river banks, farms, small towns or cities. The land provides us resources and feeds our spirits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We are hard workers.  We work long hours.  We are producers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We are generous with our time and money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We are able to take on leadership when needed.  There is no better example than "Let's roll." on September 11.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We are passionate.  Whatever the "cause" we feel and act upon it with deep emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We are a moral people  We seek the "right" thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*  We have the potential to adapt and improve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*  We openly acknowledge our mistakes and try to make sure they are not repeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* We are diverse in many, many ways but somehow also united.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what would be on your list?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-115203571873392795?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/115203571873392795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=115203571873392795' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/115203571873392795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/115203571873392795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/07/americans-when-people-are-asked-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-115162729022772809</id><published>2006-06-29T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T17:35:01.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My Sister&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Relaxed by the consistent noise from the motor and wheels and the swaying of the bus, Carol's mind was engaged on the novel in her hands. Suddenly her head came up, her hands began gripping the book, her eyes widened and her breathing and pulse quickened. No one else seemed to be responding this way. A young child was whaling as she kicked her seat and pounded her fists on the back on the seat in front of her. As the racket continued, other passengers shook their heads and stared at the child. Carol's focus was not on the disruptive child but on the older girl sitting beside the child. This girl's lanky body was very still and her head was bent as her eyes studied her hands that she twisted around and around each other. In a quiet voice she pleaded, "Please, oh please, don't do this." The younger child stopped for a moment, looked at her seatmate, who shook her head back and forth, and then resumed her tirade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carol gave a deep sigh and looked away. Her memories came rushing back with such vivid clarity that it seemed like the events from her childhood, so long ago, had just happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-115162729022772809?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/115162729022772809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=115162729022772809' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/115162729022772809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/115162729022772809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/06/my-sister-relaxed-by-consistent-noise.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-115154327091501220</id><published>2006-06-28T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T15:11:20.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bit of Writing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;From the bottom of the stairs, Mike's eyes moved up to the kitchen. With a sigh, he realized never before had he looked at these stairs, or any stairs for that matter. He'd simply rushed through the door and bounded into the kitchen. His feet must have touched wood but he had no recollection of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now his eyes sized up the steps just as a three-year-old did the pile of clothes and shoes he had been told to use to dress himself. How many were there? Where should he begin? Could he just do part of them? Would he ever succeed or would he always have to have someone help him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He understood the fear from the charging of a snaring dog but the sweaty palms and quickened pulse he now felt made no sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-115154327091501220?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/115154327091501220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=115154327091501220' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/115154327091501220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/115154327091501220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/06/bit-of-writing-from-bottom-of-stairs.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114895338505227482</id><published>2006-05-29T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T18:59:18.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/1024/2005%20Washington%20DC%20043.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/400/2005%20Washington%20DC%20043.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Memorial Day 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Last year I visited Washington D.C. and saw the national tributes we have constructed to those who have served, and too often given their lives, in our miitary actions. I am proud of these very moving tributes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/1024/2005%20Washington%20DC%20143.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/400/2005%20Washington%20DC%20143.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/1024/2005%20Washington%20DC%20155.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/400/2005%20Washington%20DC%20155.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; moz-background-clip: initial; moz-background-origin: initial; moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114895338505227482?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114895338505227482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114895338505227482' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114895338505227482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114895338505227482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/05/memorial-day-2006-last-year-i-visited_29.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114876231991240833</id><published>2006-05-27T13:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T13:38:39.923-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oh, the Sweet William&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I have a few in my front yard.  I got the seeds from my brother-in-law several years ago.  They are hard to keep growing in my flower garden but grow wild everywhere by the road ditches &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  I'm told the birds love the seeds and eat them and then deposit the seeds in their waste in other places. I really am not wishing for the birds to stay and poop in my flower garden but couldn't they leave a few seeds for next year?  My DBL covers his so the birds can't eat all of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice my chair in the top pic and the bee in the last one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need smellervision to really appreciate these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can anyone tell me how to put a zoom on so others can enlarge and see the real beauty of pics like these?  They are so much nicer full&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/flowers%202006%20phlax%20my%20yard%20005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114876231991240833?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114876231991240833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114876231991240833' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114876231991240833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114876231991240833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/05/oh-sweet-william-i-have-few-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114851519699178634</id><published>2006-05-24T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T17:02:44.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Why Me? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Why should I pick up the pieces? I didn't cause the mess and tried my best for it not to happen. But it has and today I decided just to fix it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't dwell on the details but today I went to a cemetary and bought a stone for my aunt, who died a year-and-half ago. It was suppose to have been paid for and there are lots of versions of why it is not. My aunt would have wanted the stone and so would my mother, who is buried beside her. So, although I would have rather done lots of things with the money (Boy, are they expensive now!), I bought the marker that matched my mother's.  It's done and with no anger or regrets, I move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While in the city where they are buried, I decided to drive along the river. The phlox along the banks are blooming and the fragrance was so strong. My husband always called them Sweet William and they grew wild in Arkansas too. I remember him telling me that his Uncle Frank took him into a field and they picked Sweet William when his mother died. My husband was just a child and they couldn't afford to buy flowers, or, for that matter, pay for his mother's burial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a couple boats on the river and I thought about my husband who often fished there. How nice. He had it right. Crematon and scattering of ashes. He said he wanted us to remember him by going to the woods and rivers and not a cemetery. I'm so glad I did that today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114851519699178634?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114851519699178634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114851519699178634' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114851519699178634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114851519699178634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/05/why-me-why-should-i-pick-up-pieces-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114805696172985203</id><published>2006-05-19T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T10:13:20.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/Bry%20visit%20to%20FL%20013.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/Bry%20visit%20to%20FL%20013.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ducks in a Row&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;My good friend is always talking about having her ducks in a row.  She is a very organized person.  I'm just the opposite.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never try to get, or even want, my ducks in a row.  I told my friend that if I had one duck lined up ready to go, that was good for me.  I'd rather get that duck started and then go back &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/Bry%20visit%20to%20FL%20016.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/Bry%20visit%20to%20FL%20016.6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; find another duck to get started.  I expect to have some of my ducks turn around and go back towards the beginning line.  When this happens, I'll go get them and turn them around  again.  My goal is to help ducks where every they are.  It's nice when one of them reaches the goal but that is not as important to me as enjoying the ducks on their journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/640/Bry%20visit%20to%20FL%20040.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CLEAR: all; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/Bry%20visit%20to%20FL%20040.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My friend's projects get done as expected but mine often take unexpected turns.  Each of us are happy with how we handle our ducks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are pictures of ducks in Florida.  &lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; moz-background-clip: initial; moz-background-origin: initial; moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The last one really is an ugly thing but, all in the eye of the beholder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114805696172985203?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114805696172985203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114805696172985203' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114805696172985203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114805696172985203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/05/ducks-in-row-my-good-friend-is-always.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114684152843547339</id><published>2006-05-05T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T08:20:30.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/1600/2005%20Badger%20Trip%20039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/320/2005%20Badger%20Trip%20039.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/1600/2005%20Badger%20Trip%20037.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I Statements for Today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I AM woman, hear me roar. (Just listened to Helen Ready's (sp?)song.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANT sunny days and quiet nights.&lt;br /&gt;I WISH it was easier to loose weight.&lt;br /&gt;I HATE unsolicited phone calls.&lt;br /&gt;I MISS whipping cream from the dairy.&lt;br /&gt;I FEAR heights.&lt;br /&gt;I HEAR with my heart.&lt;br /&gt;I WONDER what paths my grandchildren's lives will take.&lt;br /&gt;I REGRET not being able to travel at this time.&lt;br /&gt;I AM NOT fitting in any mold.&lt;br /&gt;I DANCE in my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;I SING with vigor.&lt;br /&gt;I CRY when my feelings get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;I AM NOT ALWAYS anything.&lt;br /&gt;I MAKE a good omelet.&lt;br /&gt;I WRITE about anything and nothing.&lt;br /&gt;I CONFUSE names.&lt;br /&gt;I NEED to internalize nature.&lt;br /&gt;I SHOULD continue to be me.&lt;br /&gt;I START many things.&lt;br /&gt;I FINISH few things.&lt;br /&gt;I TAG all who think this might be fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114684152843547339?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114684152843547339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114684152843547339' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114684152843547339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114684152843547339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-statements-for-today-i-am-woman-hear.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114667340602538979</id><published>2006-05-03T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T09:32:28.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Do you remember when &lt;/u&gt;you read &lt;em&gt;Classic Illustrated &lt;/em&gt;comics? &lt;/strong&gt;I'm not sure comics is the correct word but they were in that format. I got hooked on them when I was about 11 years old and living in Baghdad, Iraq. My dad was working with their educational system as part of the Point IV Program, which was part of the Marshall Plan. I was home schooled and then was enrolled in a in a French class at a Catholic school. It was mid-year and I was completely lost. The wonderful part of this school was that they had a library and I borrowed oh so many books. I also found a book store that sold &lt;em&gt;Classic Illustrated.&lt;/em&gt;  I spent my allowance on these publications. I remember reading the list on the back cover and checking off the next ones I'd buy. I read them over and over still have them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Isn't it great that today we have&lt;/u&gt; audio books? &lt;/strong&gt;I have gotten hooked on them this past year. I bought some from a discount book store and borrowed others from the library. They come in both CD and cassette form and I have machines with ear plugs for both. In Florida, I discovered I could download audio books from the local library onto my computer and listen to them on my speakers while I sewed. All this was done via my computer and was free with my library card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114667340602538979?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114667340602538979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114667340602538979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114667340602538979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114667340602538979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/05/do-you-remember-when-you-read-classic.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27123242.post-114624456980652165</id><published>2006-04-28T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T15:08:10.933-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;New Writing Blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Due to computer problems, I am abandoning my original writing blog that I named &lt;em&gt;Katie Remembers &lt;/em&gt;and beginning this one. I plan to have bits about &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Do you remember when&lt;/u&gt;... &lt;/strong&gt;and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Isn't it great that today ... &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;and who knows what else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Do you remember when&lt;/u&gt; we put decals from all our vacation stops on our suitcases? &lt;/strong&gt;My parents were both teachers and we often traveled during the summers. Whether it was Yellowstone National Park or the Lincoln Memorial, I would carefully consider my purchase at each place, peel off the back and attach the decal next to the last one on my suitcase. I had that suitcase for a long time. Although I don't regret not having the smelly old thing now, I sure wish I had a picture of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Do you remember when&lt;/u&gt; the bears at Yellowstone National Park came right to your car window looking for treats? &lt;/strong&gt;At the time no one thought about how this separated them from their place in nature's beauty and made these independent creatures into beggars for their human benefactors, just to satisfy our curiosities. Awareness of the dignity of wild animals by the general public is an area that has changed for the better during my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Isn't it great that today&lt;/u&gt; we have stretchable fabric bandaids? &lt;/strong&gt;The large ones I put on my elbows sure helped protect my "floor-burned" skin I got from moving around in the hospital's sandpaper sheets after recent knee surgery. I'm afraid that rough hospital sheets have not changed during my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Isn't it great that today&lt;/u&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;after months of snow, flowers bloom in my garden? &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3920/2174/400/tulips%202006%20002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27123242-114624456980652165?l=bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/feeds/114624456980652165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27123242&amp;postID=114624456980652165' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114624456980652165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27123242/posts/default/114624456980652165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bitsandpiecesfromkatie.blogspot.com/2006/04/new-writing-blog-due-to-computer.html' title=''/><author><name>Katie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03812374680645763586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
