<?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-31872106</id><updated>2012-02-10T21:07:36.672-08:00</updated><category term='widgit'/><category term='weight gain'/><category term='smoking'/><title type='text'>49 Never turning 50!!!</title><subtitle type='html'>Me going kicking and screaming into my 50's.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31872106.post-1069855811941142348</id><published>2011-01-16T22:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-16T22:28:50.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Yoga.  Again?</title><content type='html'>I can't believe its been so long since I last blogged. I was just re-reading my hot yoga posts. The last time I posted about hot yoga was in January 2009. This is now January 2011 and I never did go back to it. I am toying with the idea of trying it again. I still haven't lost the 45 lbs I went up from quitting smoking (I am back to smoking again) and the eating after hot yoga sessions but even tho its been so long I do remember basically liking the classes. Takes me awhile to get up enough steam to move forward with anything. Obviously, lol, as its been 2 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old friend recently moved to town and she had heard me mention the hot yoga and now wants me to go with her. I told her I'd had to buy new fat yoga clothes the last time I went and that if they fit me I'd go. I've dug them out and they now lay on a chair in my computer room and are I'm sure sneering at me and daring me to try them on. I do not want to buy fat fat yoga clothes and stare at myself, sweating, in the mirrored yoga room walls. Decisions, decisions. I do need to get out and do something, in the last year or so I've lost all my momentum and, it seems, my sense of humor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few more days/weeks, hmmm, I'm going to try on the fat yoga outfit and if it fits I've instructed my friend to drag me to a class. Since this year is the 6th anniversary of my 49th birthday I think I should do something before I really turn 50.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-1069855811941142348?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/1069855811941142348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=1069855811941142348&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/1069855811941142348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/1069855811941142348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2011/01/hot-yoga-again.html' title='Hot Yoga.  Again?'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-4747551040223687058</id><published>2009-09-04T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T16:33:10.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You can bounce a quarter off these puppies.</title><content type='html'>Approaching the 4th anniversary of my 49th birthday I'm trying to look as good as I say I feel, for 49 of course.  Thus my botox experience and having my lips done.  Ahh lips.  It started when someone sent me a photo from my junior high year book.  I looked at it and thought to myself, "that girl has lips".  Looking in the mirror I compared the "girl's" lips to mine now.  I had none.  Just a thin stretch of lip on top and bottom.  Horrors!!  So off to the dermatoligist's office to see about getting my lips back.  "I dont want Angelina lips" I told her, thinking, well maybe I do but... and tra la, several hundred dollars and an hour later I had my junior high lips back again.  "Kiss me" I told my husband when I got home.  "You can bounce a quarter off these puppies!" I proclaimed happily.  He declined, for the moment he said, till the swelling went down.  I pouted prettily (I think).  Ten days later I went back for my check up, still deleriously happy with my lips, and the dermatologist suggested I might want to get rid of that frown line.  It really did clash with my pretty lips.  So...several hundred dollars later I am frownless.  It really is nice but I'm having to work on a deadly stare since I can't frown at people anymore who don't notice my lips.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-4747551040223687058?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/4747551040223687058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=4747551040223687058&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/4747551040223687058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/4747551040223687058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-can-bonce-quarter-off-these-puppies.html' title='You can bounce a quarter off these puppies.'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31872106.post-1099909232018046597</id><published>2009-01-10T19:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:05:38.642-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Yoga, The Sequel To The Sequel</title><content type='html'>Am I a glutton for punishment or what?  I'm actually thinking of, maybe, perhaps, we'll see, going back there again. The scene of my greatest humiliations. The nightmarescape of my worst yoga clothing related fears. The...but I digress. Yes, I have been feeling better, more energy (had a bout with low magnesium and have been on prescription liquid magnesium, yuck) so a when a new friend asked if I wanted to go back to it I said no, not really, but that was in my head, my mouth apparently said sure we can go, I'll show you what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I can go back and pretend I'm new and have never been there before. They can't possibly recognize me after gaining 45 pounds altogether. I've dyed my hair red and I'll be wearing complete body covering yoga clothes. But the mirrors will still be there, all those mirrors. Walls and walls of them, everywhere you turn. You can't close your eyes because you should be watching the instructor, or the mirrors, and closing my eyes makes me lose my balance, and falling down flat on my face is bound to draw some kind of attention so thats out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could lie to the new friend and say I really never took hot yoga. That I was just trying to impress her with my deep knowledge of sweating techniques. But she's seen my key tag card that lets me just swipe in my info instead of signing in. Damn. Turns out the little peculiarity I had about eating insanely after each session and gaining weight was related to my ever lowering magnesium levels. Threw my electrolytes all out of whack and the hunger was my body telling me that something was wrong somewhere. So, maybe this time I might sweat off a little fat instead of adding to it. Maybe, but really I think the easiest idea is to ditch the new friend and cover all the mirrors in my house with colorful material to make them look like artsy wall hangings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-1099909232018046597?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/1099909232018046597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=1099909232018046597&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/1099909232018046597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/1099909232018046597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2009/01/hot-yoga-sequel-to-sequel.html' title='Hot Yoga, The Sequel To The Sequel'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-3517482789494277406</id><published>2008-11-26T23:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T23:27:21.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am definately NOT smarter than a 5th grader</title><content type='html'>because lately I can't seem to do the simplest things with the &lt;em&gt;new technology&lt;/em&gt;. My GPS thinks its in Mexico but isn't sure because it cannot find itself via satellite. Also I can only work it on the computer screen, its like a little virtual GPS on-screen but the moment I unhook it from the computer, it freezes. Some kind of artificial intelligence mental breakdown I think. I only put the Mexico map on it because I'd love someday to drive to there. If Sheila (my GPS, she says turn this way, she says turn that way, therefore Sheila) can't find her groove soon I don't know how I'll find my way anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My digital photo frame (a Christmas present for my father) is filled with pictures that &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; put on it but can I remember how I did it? And the instructions that come with the darned thing don't seem to cover anything at all just how you go online and share all your photo's with everyone. I don't want to do that. I just want to put funny pictures of the pets and of us on it to send to my father who complains all the time that he doesn't have any photos of us. Being new, I have not named the photo frame. If I can't figure it out within the next week I'll have to print out all the pictures and mail them to Dad. Maybe if I'd been doing that all along I wouldn't have had to buy the digital photo thingy and I'd be a much happier person right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My iPod doesn't want to sync with iTunes so I only have 10 songs on it, my iPhone thinks its 2006, I keep changing the year but if I power down it resets itself. We're there even iPhones in 2006? Is this 2006? Am I reallly here? I'd check on my GPS but no hablo inglis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-3517482789494277406?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/3517482789494277406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=3517482789494277406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/3517482789494277406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/3517482789494277406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-definately-not-smarter-than-5th.html' title='I am definately NOT smarter than a 5th grader'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-6820135234375132018</id><published>2008-10-22T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T12:05:13.058-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smoking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='widgit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weight gain'/><title type='text'>I've never really figured out exactly what a widgit is..</title><content type='html'>I use them. I have one that tells me I've saved weeks of life by not smoking and bundles of bucks for the same reason. I don't know why I keep it up because I'm back to smoking again because of the weight gain. I know, I know, but I'm not smoking very much, maybe 5 cigarettes a day and I'm hopefully waiting and watching for my weight to at least stabilize if it won't go down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have widgets on my desktop that tell me the time in big numbers (glasses, age thing, blah blah blah) and what the weather is like in 3 different places. These widgets could also tell me my schedule but since I don't have outlook express 2007, just the old one, it doesn't work. Ah well. Still what is a widgit and what is it doing while it sits so innocently on my screen. Is the cigarette one mocking me, knowing its counting fake days? Is there someone these things report back to? "Hey, this ones still smoking boss"........Will they become angry with me if I'm not doing what I'm supposed to do. Maybe they'll turn evil and sneer at me whenever I sit in from of the screen. In which case I'll tell you what a widgit better not do. Piss me off, else its off with their widgit heads. I still think they're a bit creepy, maybe its just me but I'm sure they have ulterior motives. Widgit sounds so innocent doesn't it, &lt;em&gt;but are they really?!?!?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-6820135234375132018?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/6820135234375132018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=6820135234375132018&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6820135234375132018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6820135234375132018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/10/ive-never-really-figured-out-exactly.html' title='I&apos;ve never really figured out exactly what a widgit is..'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-6370975181822025188</id><published>2008-10-22T11:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T11:55:44.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whats a widget?</title><content type='html'>&lt;script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgetserver.com/syndication/subscriber/InsertWidget.js?appId=f726ccab-b893-4ec5-baa4-0bf7b2b07320"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;noscript&gt;Get the &lt;a href="http://www.widgetbox.com/widget/humor-bloggers-blog-roll"&gt;Humor Bloggers Blog Roll&lt;/a&gt; widget and many other &lt;a href="http://www.widgetbox.com/"&gt;great free widgets&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.widgetbox.com"&gt;Widgetbox&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/noscript&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-6370975181822025188?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/6370975181822025188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=6370975181822025188&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6370975181822025188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6370975181822025188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/10/whats-widget.html' title='Whats a widget?'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-7045103835164450314</id><published>2008-10-10T23:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T23:40:42.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Yoga is Out</title><content type='html'>I am now officially way to fat for hot yoga. No one should be seen bending over in exercise clothes my size. Sheesh. You know it gets insane, my doctor always said lose weight. So ok, it took me a year but I lost 70 lbs. YAY me! Then came the "well you've lost weight, why don't you quit smoking now". So I did, I went on multiple medications and quit for 3 months. But...I gained 40 lbs, so I started smoking again. Not much, just a couple a day. There must be a happy medium somewhere but I just can't find it. Last week I went to the doctor and mine was away so I saw someone else. He, after hearing my complaints, handed me a tape measure and said "measure your waist". Mystified and somewhat alarmed I did so. When I told him what the tape said, he just smiled smugly and said "well if you'd lose some weight you'd feel much better". I guess they'll find his body some day, but me, I've just got a happy, self satisfied smile on my face as I eat a DQ Sundae and smoke my ciggy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-7045103835164450314?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/7045103835164450314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=7045103835164450314&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/7045103835164450314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/7045103835164450314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/10/hot-yoga-is-out.html' title='Hot Yoga is Out'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-5507284378374301359</id><published>2008-05-26T22:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T23:08:52.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Yoga</title><content type='html'>I've been doing hot (or Bikram) yoga on and off since December 07. It's one of the hardest workouts I think I've ever done. It was very hard in December when I first started it. Ninety minutes in a room heated to 105 degrees in the least amount of clothing you can wear because of the heat and humidity and in front of an amazing amount of mirrors. Arrrghhh. So I lasted a month but it affected me curiously and I (what they told me later) "hit a wall" so I stopped for awhile and since then due to lack of exercise and quitting smoking I've put on 20 pounds. So when I decided I was going to go back I had to face the humiliation of buying BIGGER YOGA CLOTHES. So now I was going back to the same heat and humidity and mirrors but in bigger exercise clothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it seems to be having the same curious effect on me as it had the last time. It's a wonderful workout, you sweat like a pig and think you're going to die but you get through it. Even with the mirrors which are a terrible torture. But I become completely ravenous at the end of the workout and when I get home I eat everything in the house. I've tried starting out eating all the fruit in the house, but then I'm still hungry and I go on to the cheese, then the bread, then the cookies, etc etc etc. Now I've almost finished a month of this second course of hot yoga and I've gained another 6 lbs. But I'm much more limber now and can reach cookies hidden away on the tallest shelves or bend down and get to the chips in the back of the lowest cupboards. Is this a good thing? I'm thinking no.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-5507284378374301359?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/5507284378374301359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=5507284378374301359&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/5507284378374301359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/5507284378374301359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/05/hot-yoga.html' title='Hot Yoga'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-7294336452077765046</id><published>2008-04-19T12:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T12:45:42.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Net Neutrality Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.neutrality.ca" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Net Neutrality Canada - Neutrality.ca" src="http://477bc4f01c729.media.neutrality.ca/images/banners25_01.gif" 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/31872106-7294336452077765046?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/7294336452077765046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=7294336452077765046&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/7294336452077765046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/7294336452077765046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/04/net-neutrality-canada.html' title='Net Neutrality Canada'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-2636222406720054361</id><published>2008-03-04T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T17:46:48.674-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Apology Accepted 30 Years Later</title><content type='html'>Well, further to my blog about the first man to break my heart.  We kept on corresponding by email and I kept on feeling vaguely out of sorts.  Then one night my MSN Messenger beeped at me that he wanted to add me on so we could CHAT!!  Holy crap batman!  I said yes and we chatted live for the first time.  I decided what the hell lets just go for it right now and said to him "Aren't you surprised that I would even talk to you after all these years?"  "Why wouldn't you be talking to me?" he asked.  Sheesh.  "BECAUSE YOU DUMPED ME YOU ASS" I said calmly.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh.." he said, the messenger screen remained blank a few moments, obviously he was thinking of what to do with the realization that a crazy woman was still mad after all these years.  "I'm sorry" finally came back on the screen.  Now it was my turn to remain silent a few moments.  "I forgive you" I typed back, and surprisingly, I meant it.  "About time" he said.  The End.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-2636222406720054361?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/2636222406720054361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=2636222406720054361&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/2636222406720054361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/2636222406720054361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/03/apology-accepted-30-years-later.html' title='Apology Accepted 30 Years Later'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-8727612846752013590</id><published>2008-01-27T23:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T23:25:19.937-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you happy Oprah, dammit, I've finally quit smoking</title><content type='html'>signed your pledge and boy am I bitchy. Well not really, well yes really. When I was frustrated tonight about getting our home computers to go wireless I did quite a bit of stomping and then ate a bag of bridge mixture chocolate candies (I don't even like chocolate) and half a bag of diet (Ha) cheesies. That was after a dinner of spiral french fries, no protein there at all. I did throw in a couple of grapes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been 5 days 9 hrs 19 minutes and 26 seconds at this point that I've been smoke free. A handy dandy little gadget on my computer (which is still NOT wireless) tells me this constantly counting out the time and telling me how much of my life I've gained. Crap, how much have I lost in yelling at the computer, the hubby, the dogs, the car, the car in front of me, etc etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't seem to be any easier day by day. It seems harder and my "reptile brain" as Dr Oz calls it is constantly giving me more and more excuses, reasons, why I should just have one, or a puff, or a sniff, couldn't hurt. NO NO NO. They want to make me go back smoking I say NO NO NO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm weak, how long can I last...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-8727612846752013590?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/8727612846752013590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=8727612846752013590&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/8727612846752013590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/8727612846752013590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/01/are-you-happy-oprah-dammit-ive-finally.html' title='Are you happy Oprah, dammit, I&apos;ve finally quit smoking'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-6253305686929121095</id><published>2008-01-15T20:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T20:44:14.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I just heard from the first man who broke my heart</title><content type='html'>it was through that classmates.com. An email popped up on my computer saying someone had left a message for me. I was quite surprised to see who it was from. My high school sweetheart, the boy to whom I gave my virginity (really I threw it at him)lets call him Peter (thats his name), had just tried out the site for amusement and had seen my name listed so, wow, why not send me a message and see what I was doing after all these years. How sweet. Really. I mean, it would be petty wouldn't it, to be mad after all these years, about our big break-up. Really. Thirty years, c'mon now lady. Honestly, I had thought of him off and on over the years, wondered what had happened to him, but not in any big way. I lived my life, married, divorced, fell in love and have been living common-law with a wonderful man for several years now.  Hadn't I suspected, listing myself there that other people than female classmates might try to catch up with me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason though, this email really had struck some nerve somewhere and really bothered me. We exchanged a few uber friendly emails, caught up on each others lives, but I was still really bothered. After all, he was the first man to have really broken my heart. He was the man that all the other men in my life were profiled against, measured against, and whom I found myself failing again, against. All of this occurred to me after this first email. My whole loss of self worth seemed to have exploded with this man's rejection of me 30 years before. I know I shouldn't put all the blame on him, we were just two little f***'d up kids back then but I prefer to (sad grin).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is it I want? What will make me feel less bothered with this communication from my long lost past? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I think I'd like an apology&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Is that ridiculous? He doesn't have to mean it, crap, he doesn't even have to understand what exactly its for, but I think it would ease 30 years of something I didn't even realize still hurt.  Seems that even though I'm 49 5/4 all of a sudden there's an angry teenager running around inside me again (God I hope this doesn't mean acne).  Should I ask him?  Burning question of the day!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-6253305686929121095?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/6253305686929121095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=6253305686929121095&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6253305686929121095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6253305686929121095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-just-heard-from-first-man-who-broke.html' title='I just heard from the first man who broke my heart'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-5881405107534692828</id><published>2007-07-30T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-03T19:51:32.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sound of Pee is Like Pavlov's Bell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/Ry0zo5t-VDI/AAAAAAAAAA8/8ViCBLFzK2c/s1600-h/annie+pic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128812328426296370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/Ry0zo5t-VDI/AAAAAAAAAA8/8ViCBLFzK2c/s320/annie+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/Rq_I7iHMUnI/AAAAAAAAAA0/aAOBoyTfa9s/s1600-h/Photo_041306_001%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For years now I've avoided saying the word "walk" in my house. As in "lets go for a ..." or "its time for a ..." because the dogs would invariably go crazy. Or so I thought. I'd say to whoever, "lets get ready for a W" instead. So that the animals wouldn't know yet what we were doing and we'd have time to get the leashes, poop bags, cookies etc and not have three large animals running around like crazy because they'd know it was walk time. And whenever someone would ask why we said W and not walk, I'd patiently explain to them the reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one day someone pointed out to me that I'd said the word walk at least three times in conversation about something else and that none of the dogs had reacted at all. So I tried it, "walk" I said. Nothing. "Lets go for a ..." using that tone of voice we all use. Nothing. "Walkies!!!" Nothing. I tried "Ready!!??" Still no reaction. This was so strange. My older dogs that I'd had in the past had all known what the word Walk had meant. I know this, its why I now never said the word Walk. Thats when I clued in that this was the reason these new dogs (ages 5, 4 and 1 1/2) didn't react to the word, they'd never HEARD it before. I also knew though that they did get very excited when it was walk time, so what was it that prompted this? It wasn't the word Walk, that was for sure. Now that I was paying attention I quickly found out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening when walk time came around I was busy getting ready for our walk but before I did anything else I went down the hall and into the bathroom and when I started to, ahem, go... all heck broke out. Excited dogs ran everywhere. This was the cue. Oh my gosh!!! The sound of pee, it's like Pavlov's Bell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-5881405107534692828?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/5881405107534692828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=5881405107534692828&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/5881405107534692828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/5881405107534692828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2007/07/sound-of-pee-is-like-pavlovs-bell.html' title='The Sound of Pee is Like Pavlov&apos;s Bell'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/Ry0zo5t-VDI/AAAAAAAAAA8/8ViCBLFzK2c/s72-c/annie+pic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31872106.post-6103538656965304469</id><published>2007-07-29T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T19:05:08.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walk with your dog!!</title><content type='html'>I have one of those Ipod/NIKE sport attachments so I do all these walk/run challenges.  Anyone out there who likes that kind of thing can join in one of my challenges through my blog page.  It's a new thing I didn't know about.  Cool.  By the way, I've never even come close to winning one of these, LOL.  But we do (my 3 dogs and I) go the distance!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" width="198" height="260" id="Nike+ Runs" align="middle"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent" /&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://nikeplus.nike.com/nikeplus/v1/swf/scrapablewidget/challenge.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff" /&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="type=individualChallenge&amp;userDefaultUnit=mi&amp;screenName=candowoman&amp;inviteType=open&amp;id=1350606146&amp;region=ca&amp;language=en&amp;locale=en_ca"/&gt;&lt;embed src="http://nikeplus.nike.com/nikeplus/v1/swf/scrapablewidget/challenge.swf" quality="high" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="198" height="260" name="Nike+ Runs" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="sameDomain" FlashVars="type=individualChallenge&amp;userDefaultUnit=mi&amp;screenName=candowoman&amp;inviteType=open&amp;id=1350606146&amp;region=ca&amp;language=en&amp;locale=en_ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-6103538656965304469?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/6103538656965304469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=6103538656965304469&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6103538656965304469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/6103538656965304469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2007/07/walk-with-your-dog.html' title='Walk with your dog!!'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-1654417443752667184</id><published>2007-07-15T12:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T12:35:32.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Re-reading the Past - Part 2</title><content type='html'>Hmm. Really got me delving into all this old poetry I've found of mine. So I'm going to include some more. Two more pieces that caught my eye. The first one was published in 1979 and did cause some comment as to whether "one night stands" were a good thing or not for women, emotionally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second was a lullaby, albeit a sad one for my best friend Joy, a single mom's, new born daughter Michelle. Poor thing did not end up doing well in life, I wish we could see the future so as parents we'd know exactly when to step in, but all we can do is be there when they fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Untitled - written and published in 1979&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he lies beside me&lt;br /&gt;quietly sleeping&lt;br /&gt;an arm out flung&lt;br /&gt;slightly tousled hair&lt;br /&gt;damp from pleasant exertions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lie beside him&lt;br /&gt;restless, wide awake&lt;br /&gt;gazing intently at his face&lt;br /&gt;so sweet in sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who is this man&lt;br /&gt;and who this woman&lt;br /&gt;together for a night&lt;br /&gt;and who will they be&lt;br /&gt;together, apart?&lt;br /&gt;at dawns first early light&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;restless stirrings deep inside me&lt;br /&gt;longing, doubts and fears&lt;br /&gt;quietly so as not to wake him&lt;br /&gt;I cry silent salty tears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for love, for hope, for innocence lost&lt;br /&gt;for past mistakes and uncertain days ahead&lt;br /&gt;for wanting not just one night&lt;br /&gt;but a whole lifetime instead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Song for Michelle - written in 1980&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;child of the future&lt;br /&gt;I'm a child of the past&lt;br /&gt;still in your mothers arms&lt;br /&gt;and yet you might ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what will the future bring&lt;br /&gt;Lord, wish I knew&lt;br /&gt;If I could comfort me&lt;br /&gt;then I might comfort you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreams of beginnings&lt;br /&gt;and scenes from the end&lt;br /&gt;all your tomorrows&lt;br /&gt;are yesterdays best friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;young schemer, of dreams untold&lt;br /&gt;tell me what you see&lt;br /&gt;for I am much to old&lt;br /&gt;there's no more dreams for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if wisdom and youth could blend&lt;br /&gt;your fears I would deny&lt;br /&gt;but life passes over us&lt;br /&gt;you reach, sometimes you fly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so reach child, life up your arms&lt;br /&gt;and hold on till its done&lt;br /&gt;and if you stumble, so did we all&lt;br /&gt;before we learned to run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;child of the future&lt;br /&gt;I'm a child of the past&lt;br /&gt;still in your mothers arms&lt;br /&gt;and yet you might ask&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what will the future bring&lt;br /&gt;Lord, wish I knew&lt;br /&gt;If I could comfort me&lt;br /&gt;then I might comfort you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could comfort me&lt;br /&gt;then I might comfort you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-1654417443752667184?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/1654417443752667184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=1654417443752667184&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/1654417443752667184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/1654417443752667184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2007/07/re-reading-past-part-2.html' title='Re-reading the Past - Part 2'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-8190551468487433974</id><published>2007-07-09T18:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T18:54:52.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Re-reading the Past</title><content type='html'>Came across poetry I'd written a gazillion years ago and kept. It was funny reading all of those poems from up to 30 years ago. Boy are teenagers moody LOL. There was one though that I think was a little futuristic reading it now, so I thought I'd share it, I wrote it in 1981.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;When I was just a tiny lad&lt;br /&gt;I'd sit upon my fathers knee&lt;br /&gt;and beg him tell me stories made of&lt;br /&gt;fairy tales and history&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed even then it seemed&lt;br /&gt;that as he spoke he also dreamed&lt;br /&gt;with eyes that shon with unshed tears&lt;br /&gt;as he took us back through long gone years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the tales he spun of long ago&lt;br /&gt;of snow white doves and buffalo&lt;br /&gt;of seals that swam in icy waters&lt;br /&gt;and of the sons and of the daughters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and of the men who tamed the land&lt;br /&gt;and I thought it sounded oh so grand&lt;br /&gt;because I didn't understand the price we had to pay&lt;br /&gt;my father knew I'd understand someday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man that I came to be&lt;br /&gt;saw not the land and not the sea&lt;br /&gt;nor the quiet darkening of the sky&lt;br /&gt;the absence of night sounds by and by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but as I walked the beach one day&lt;br /&gt;I heard an unfamiliar sound&lt;br /&gt;and turning to look on an oil bound sea&lt;br /&gt;saw a creature almost familiar to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as memory recalled the name&lt;br /&gt;I felt a fear arise within&lt;br /&gt;and it struck me then that what we'd gained&lt;br /&gt;couldn't ease the emptiness of what remained&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood and watched the struggling bird&lt;br /&gt;and I couldn't lift a hand&lt;br /&gt;for as I watched his fight for life&lt;br /&gt;I finally saw the land&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I saw the future I'd thought so bright&lt;br /&gt;reflected in a man made light&lt;br /&gt;and heard the warning from my fathers knee&lt;br /&gt;that for to many years I failed to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;suddenly with a triumphant cry, the struggling bird pulled free&lt;br /&gt;and crying still I understood, what this sight was meant to be&lt;br /&gt;but the pain was to great and I turned away&lt;br /&gt;who could I tell and what could I say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so I turned my back and I quickly walked away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as the last bird cried&lt;br /&gt;spread his wings and took to the sky&lt;br /&gt;and the wind mourned his passing&lt;br /&gt;and hushed, with a sigh&lt;br /&gt;that sounded like a word&lt;br /&gt;and it was "why"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;the years sped by to soon it seemed&lt;br /&gt;I was trapped inside my own lost dreams&lt;br /&gt;the sight I saw so long ago&lt;br /&gt;the light I'd seen but then let go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the oily slick on the oceans brow&lt;br /&gt;that small trapped bird escaped somehow&lt;br /&gt;to heights so long unseen by man&lt;br /&gt;up through the smog that covered the land&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now I have my own small lad&lt;br /&gt;who asks me "daddy please,&lt;br /&gt;tell me of when birds covered the skies&lt;br /&gt;and fish filled all the seas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now my own eyes cloud with tears&lt;br /&gt;as I dream my way back through the years&lt;br /&gt;and pray that my own son will do right&lt;br /&gt;and not turn away but stand and fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and not close his eyes when he sees the light&lt;br /&gt;I saw the light and I turned away&lt;br /&gt;and the vision I saw still returns today&lt;br /&gt;as I saw the last bird lift, and fly away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and the last bird cried&lt;br /&gt;spread his wings and took to the sky&lt;br /&gt;and the wind mourned his passing&lt;br /&gt;and hushed, with a sigh&lt;br /&gt;that sounded like a word&lt;br /&gt;and it was "why"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-8190551468487433974?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/8190551468487433974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=8190551468487433974&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/8190551468487433974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/8190551468487433974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2007/07/re-reading-past.html' title='Re-reading the Past'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-9079818591116328869</id><published>2007-06-19T16:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T17:09:16.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My 7 Random Things</title><content type='html'>I noticed on another blog that some are writing 7 random things about themselves so I thought I may as well join in on the game. Hmm. 7 random things, lets see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I always seem to have 3 dogs. My last three were Tasha, Sam and Toby. They all lived to the lovely old ages of 13, 14 and 13 respectively, they were all part black lab. Now I have Annie, Boy and Thor, who are 5, 4 and 2. Curiously none of them are lab's. Annie is a bouvier/irish wolfhound, Boy is a bouvier and little Thor is a shepherd/akita/chow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I don't really collect anything (besides dogs in 3's). I've tried collecting things but it just doesn't seem to be in my nature. I don't really have a hankering for multiples of anything in particular, except maybe diamonds which I cannot afford myself and can't seem to find anyone who will just buy them for me because I like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I got my very own first brand new car when I was 49 5/4. Its a 2007 Chevy HHR. I keep getting it mixed up with Chrysler which drives my honey crazy. Brand names aren't very important to me, just the fact that its NEW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I will never really turn 50, I will always stay 49 5/4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I used to dye my hair all the time. For years really, and after awhile I wasn't even sure what my natural color was anymore. Turns out it's a lovely light brown with natural blond highlights and some lovely silver streaks. Stopped dyeing it when I cut it short two years ago just to see what color it actually is and I really liked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I get lost all the time. So much in fact that for my birthday, honey bought me a GPS for my car. It doesn't really bother me (getting lost), I'm used to it and do find some pretty interesting new places, but apparently he worries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I like to try something new every once in awhile. Something that scares me so that I can overcome a fear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-9079818591116328869?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/9079818591116328869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=9079818591116328869&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/9079818591116328869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/9079818591116328869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-7-random-things.html' title='My 7 Random Things'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-3101724757914812125</id><published>2006-12-29T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T14:41:39.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Drug Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/RZXTLr22DDI/AAAAAAAAAAk/uxkESnZPTSo/s1600-h/PAT1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Units 2 and 5 in our little 5 unit rowhouse across the street are in full 24/7 swing with selling drugs again and the police have made at least two big arrests there (one for each unit) in the last week. The last one had at least six police cars and they had to taser the guy 3 times he was so high on crack. I, myself am back to yelling and swearing at those who dare to park by our property line to go in and buy drugs over there. Its just like the old days. Geez, we shut down three crackhouses on this street in the last two years and for six whole months it was lovely and quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today though I think I might have gone at bit to far, as I ususally do. The local big drug dealer (in his own mind) was doing business at one of the units and the landlord showed up so I told him that the guy was in there dealing and the landlord went in and kicked him out. Well big drug guy saw me watch him go in so of course he knew who told the landlord he was there and as he was walking off up the street he stopped, turned around and looked back at my house, up at my window (where of course I was standing, looking) and he nodded up at me. Shiver. Oh well, Now I guess the death threats start again. Been there, done that. Although with this new crew being more physical and less afraid (maybe they're on some sort of new drugs) I think I'll start walking the dogs armed again and with my cell phone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-3101724757914812125?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/3101724757914812125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=3101724757914812125&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/3101724757914812125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/3101724757914812125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-post.html' title='The Drug Guy'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-116279430487168132</id><published>2006-11-05T21:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T22:36:40.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living for Las Vegas</title><content type='html'>Things have been really stressful lately and I've had a lot of imaginary conversations with myself cos I haven't had time to come here and write so I figured it was about time to get here LOL.  I take care of my common-law hubby who's disabled from a stroke 4 yrs ago (he's 51).  Also lately my sister who lives downstairs (we're in an up/down duplex) has needed some care as she shattered her wrist in a fall, turns out she has osteoporosis.  Now that she's recovered enough to take care of herself my hubby's son has had a terrible eye injury involving a roman candle.  So now he's living back home (took me 4 yrs to get him out) for now while we deal with his injury and how to put his life back together.  I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I'm just really tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've just recently, you probly know from my blog entries, turned 50 and am having some slight, LOL, problems with that so this latest round of stress isn't helping much.  But a bright light, in February my oldest sister and I are going to Las Vegas.  I told my hubby that I don't care who is ill or going to become ill. I AM GOING TO LAS VEGAS.  So that's what keeps me going.  But its also occurred to me that once the trip has come what will keep me going after that?  There won't always be a big trip coming up to save me from my stress.  I need to find some more realistic goals? rewards? incentives? stress relievers? to keep myself going forward and keeping motivated because it doesn't seem like the stress is going to end anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just in a blue mood tonite.  I've hidden away in my little craft/computer room.  The one that used to be my step-son's bedroom and has been lovingly converted into MY room.  I'm afraid that due to his injury and being off work someone may suggest that it be converted back.  I really don't want to spend my life taking care of 2 disabled men.  It's pretty hard at times managing one.  So anyone out there in cyberspace with any thoughts or suggestions feel free to weigh in one the subject.  I'm for running away and changing my name.  But that's just tonite.  I'm sure things will look brighter in Las Vegas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-116279430487168132?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/116279430487168132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=116279430487168132&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/116279430487168132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/116279430487168132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/11/living-for-las-vegas.html' title='Living for Las Vegas'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-116165947086920327</id><published>2006-10-23T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T20:15:45.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>50 Years, 23 Days...but not counting</title><content type='html'>As I'm now of &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; age I believe my mind is now going.  Along with the slackening the face and body my mind seems to have be permanently fogged.  Can the mind sag?  Hmmm.  I left for grocery shopping this morning, telling my husband I'd be back shortly, without my list, I thought momentarily about going back for it but since it only contained two or three items I decided it would be silly to go back.  I only needed milk, dog cookies and fruit.  On my way to the grocery store I noticed gas had gone down two more cents so I stopped to put twenty bucks worth in.  Next to the gas station was a linen store.  I had been thinking recently about either getting a new bed or getting some sort of soft topper.  In our bed lately it seemed like I could feel every coil and my sleep just had been deteriorating.  I'm sure it all had to do with my mental attitude about turning 50 and that there's probably nothing wrong with our bed, just my imaginary aches and pains but I went into the store anyway.  Forty-five minutes later I came out of the linen store with a $200 down and feather bed topper.  For my old aching body and for my husbands sake.  Yeah.  I got back on the road but was distracted again by a veterinarian's office because I remembered that I had forgotten to renew one of the dog's medicines so I pulled into the nearest parking lot and made a call to our vet to get them to renew the prescription and then headed over to pick it up.  There was the usual long wait once I got there, so much for calling ahead, and after another half an hour I was back on the road again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time I was way across town from the grocer that I had started out going to so I headed for the nearest mega-mall that I knew had a grocery in it.  My cell phone rang at this point and it was my husband asking me where I was.  I replied that I was grocery shopping or very near to it and he pointed out that I'd already been gone for nearly two hours.  Not to worry I said, I just pop into the store, pick up what I need and be home shortly.  Mega-mall, wonderful term, tons of stores, tons of sales, tons of distractions.  For some reason I'm not sure of I bought myself a red evening gown.  Floor length, one shouldered with silvered beads sewn on.  I have nowhere to wear it but it was on sale.  I guess I can wear it picking up dog poop in the yard, maybe with the designer jacket my sister talked me into a few months ago which was also on sale.  Anyway, it was nearly an hour later that I entered the grocery store.  I got a great price on some steaks, a bargain on a case of pop, a giant tub of margarine and a shopping cart full of various and other sundry items.  Of course I'm sure you've guessed already I did not get milk, dog cookies or fruit.  I did spend four hours away from home and approximately $350, I think.  I'm not really sure because I've already lost most of the receipts and I don't have time to look right now cos I have to run out to the nearest convenience store to get milk for tomorrow mornings coffee (ah, maybe I can wear that red evening gown).  Oh, and dog cookies and fruit if they have it.  Can the mind sag?  I dunno but I'm sure tired today from trying to hold it up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-116165947086920327?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/116165947086920327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=116165947086920327&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/116165947086920327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/116165947086920327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/10/50-years-23-daysbut-not-counting.html' title='50 Years, 23 Days...but not counting'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-116121289641122693</id><published>2006-10-18T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T18:30:36.532-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Well 50 Did Happen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/RZXPQr22DCI/AAAAAAAAAAY/DqF1FYmykrQ/s1600-h/PAT1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5014141645704530978" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/RZXPQr22DCI/AAAAAAAAAAY/DqF1FYmykrQ/s320/PAT1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/RZXMp722DBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RR16NHXb-Nw/s1600-h/PAT1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;and you know what? It was just as awful as I thought it would be. In anticipation of the big event I've lost 70 pounds, because I'm not going to be FAT AND 50, and that in turn has actually lowered my sugar levels to the point that I no longer take medication for my Type 2 Diabetes. So thats actually good. But...with the weight off of my face my cheeks seem to have become covered in tiny wrinkles. As a matter of fact, just before my birthday I was asked in a store if I was eligable for the senior's discount. I was afraid to ask if they thought I was 55 or 65. So now I'm slimmer but with a wrinkled face which also seems to have sagged. Along with everything else. Apparently the only thing ever keeping everything in place was my fat. So I've made an appointment with a dermatologist to try out their "photo rejuvenation" laser thingy. It costs a lot of money but is cheaper than a face lift. I can only afford the face itself and not my neck so if it works well on my face I'll just go with wearing turtlenecks until I can save up enough to get my neck done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, for my birthday which I have been desperately trying to avoid, my father decided to pay me a three day visit. Now I love my father and I'm glad that at 80 he's in good enough health to make the trip across the country from Ontario to British Columbia, but one of the reasons I live in BC is because I love my father and I can't move any farther west without actually leaving the country. We have a great long distance relationship. He has always known how to push all of my buttons and hold them so its better for both of us that there are a few Provinces between us. He seems to forget that most times we tend to disagree and told me that he'd be spending very little time at the hotel, just nights, so that he could spend alllll dayyy long with me. The three days lasted a year it seemed but we did get through it. I really do love him and gave him a big kiss goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is 50 huh. I feel like I look it but I really still feel 49. I know, I know, its only a number but I just don't understand why this happened to me?!!&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/31872106-116121289641122693?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/116121289641122693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=116121289641122693&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/116121289641122693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/116121289641122693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/10/well-50-did-happen.html' title='Well 50 Did Happen'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_d2ECXYx4UqM/RZXPQr22DCI/AAAAAAAAAAY/DqF1FYmykrQ/s72-c/PAT1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31872106.post-115517222560753149</id><published>2006-08-09T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T17:46:18.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>49 Never turning 50!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/"&gt;49 Never turning 50!!!&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was actually my first try at blogging and I guess it turned out to be just a statement and not anything else.  So cheer's to me!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-115517222560753149?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/115517222560753149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=115517222560753149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/115517222560753149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/115517222560753149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/08/49-never-turning-50.html' title='49 Never turning 50!!!'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-115440051904959284</id><published>2006-07-31T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T19:49:32.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Terry Botha Died Today</title><content type='html'>Contests. Terry always entered contests on-line. I don't think she entered them just for something to do, she was to ill to work, and I don't think she entered them because she was to ill to do physical things, like going for walks or even climbing stairs. I think she entered contests as an affirmation of life, as a statement of hope and confidence that there would be a future, that there would be time for winning. She included a lot of us on her list of forwards so that we could enter too. She was one of my Roy's closest friends and only in her 40's. Roy always called her Munchkin because she was barely 4' 11".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terry had been on a waiting list for a lung transplant. She had COPD. She and Gord had to move to Vancouver because you had to live close to the hospital in case you got "the call". They got the call at 1:30 am on July 30th and left for the hospital ten minutes later. They operated soon after and the operation went very well. Normally they take around 8 hours but Terry's was done in four and a half. Her husband Gord called early yesterday morning to tell us the good news, that she was in surgery and another call a few hours later let us know that things had gone well. A few hours after that however things weren't looking that well, fluid was building up in the new lung and at 6:00 am this morning, less than 24 hours after they'd gotten "the call" Terry passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Contests and Terry. They went hand in hand. Most of us hate junk mail and we are no exception, Roy especially hates forwards from friends. But you know, every email we got from Terry, inviting us to join her in entering some unknown contest, never got deleted. We entered every one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love you and miss you Terry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-115440051904959284?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/115440051904959284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=115440051904959284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/115440051904959284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/115440051904959284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/07/terry-botha-died-today.html' title='Terry Botha Died Today'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</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-31872106.post-115423012493009240</id><published>2006-07-29T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T18:04:10.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a Blog Virgin</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5815/3473/1600/Photo_010606_004.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5815/3473/200/Photo_010606_004.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me a little bit of time to get the hang of this. Lord its hard for my greatly taxed brain to figure out all the little do's and don'ts of this stuff. Lol. Thought it was going to be soooo easy to just sign up to this thing and then write my little heart out immediately. Well first you gotta figure out what the heck you're doing I guess. So lets leave this as my first time, you know, where its not very satisfactory for either of you, (well maybe for him) and by the time I get back here I'm sure I'll have all the bells and whistles figure out. After all, I CanDo!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31872106-115423012493009240?l=notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/feeds/115423012493009240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31872106&amp;postID=115423012493009240&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/115423012493009240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31872106/posts/default/115423012493009240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://notgoingwillingly.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-blog-virgin.html' title='I&apos;m a Blog Virgin'/><author><name>Candowoman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11877692907045740272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
