<?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-3707194522805758209</id><updated>2011-07-29T01:51:19.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wild About Red</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-5700079706763290772</id><published>2010-02-25T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T01:28:58.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Demise and Fall of My Little Red House</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Well, again I have deleted something from my life before every really starting it. This seems to be a pattern with me; one I sincerely ho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;pe to change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Three years after starting My Little Red House Internet business I have closed it’s doors without really ever getting it off the ground. It is sad for me to think that I was unable to pull it all together but I let the rest of my life get in the way. Prioritizing has always been a problem for me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Concentration and commitment are the other two obstacles that are a constant challenge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How is it that you can want something so much, then when you get it you lose the energy needed to make it work, or simply lose interest altogether?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know the answer to that question but I sure want to find out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;Are we constantly in a state of searching for what will make us happy? It must be so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;No matter what direction I take, I can’t seem to follow the road. I always see another path off to the side that is calling me and there I go, wandering again. What am I looking for? Will I know it when I find it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love all the experiences allowed me through my endeavors. I’ve learned many new things, met wonderful people, and discovered new places. I feel good about myself when I think of all the knowledge I have gained and how resourceful I have become. I also feel like a failure because I can’t see things through to their full potential. It is also especially hard to feel that I am incapable of producing an income that will support me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So here I go, down another path, but this one is different. It is the spiritual path to healing the mind and soul. It is the path to a realization that I am the chooser of the way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am the creator of all that takes place in my life. It is up to me to decide what I am looking for and how I will obtain it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There is great abundance in my life, which I am most grateful for, and I will continue to embrace the joys bestowed upon me. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As I stated in my last post, I must “change my thinking to change my life”. I am still working on that one!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-5700079706763290772?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/5700079706763290772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=5700079706763290772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/5700079706763290772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/5700079706763290772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2010/02/demise-and-fall-of-my-little-red-house.html' title='The Demise and Fall of My Little Red House'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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-3707194522805758209.post-4981068136740213012</id><published>2009-09-30T10:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T10:17:03.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Returning to a Previous Life</title><content type='html'>It has been a long time since I have even thought about my blog. It is definitely time to get caught up. It seems since Facebook has become so popular, no one is posting to their blogs anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a brief "adventure" I have returned to the life I have always known; but is it the same life or a new life? The answer to that question lies within me, and me only. I am the designer of my life. I am responsible for all my choices, thoughts, conceptions and reactions that make up my life. As any good 'Interior' Designer would do, I must pay close attention to the details of all these elements in order to create a beautiful life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Becoming a part of the Center for Spiritual Living is one choice that is helping me to achieve my design goals. Being a follower of this "New Thought" church has had a very positive effect on me. One principle teaching is "change your thoughts, change your life". Wow, what a powerful statement, and a difficult task.&lt;br /&gt;Breaking old thought patterns is harder than kicking any addiction one could possess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recognizing an "old thought pattern' is the first hurtle. We are filled with thoughts embedded in our brains since birth. Concepts formed since early childhood guide our thinking patterns throughout our life. For example "our family has been doing 'it' this way for generations". We don't know why they started doing it this way but we carry on the tradition because we simply never thought it necessary to question it or change it. But after a lifetime of doing 'it' one way, changing 'it' would be scary and challenging and just too much work, so why bother? Does the 'old' way fit into modern life? Probably not. Does the 'old' way make our life better in any way? Most likely not. Then why do we continue it? Grandpa used to say "If it ain't broke, don't fix it", but what about improving it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we improve our life by changing our thoughts? YES. Can we become better people, by changing our thoughts? YES. Can we be happier and healthier by changing our thoughts? YES! Can we change our thoughts easily? NO. Are you up for the challenge? Most would say no, but I am. I don't want to return to my previous life. I want a happier, healthier, more fulfilling life and I know it will never happen unless I change my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So off I go, on new 'adventure'. A life changing journey of challenges that will bring me a beautiful life designed by me, only me. Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-4981068136740213012?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/4981068136740213012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=4981068136740213012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/4981068136740213012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/4981068136740213012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2009/09/returning-to-previous-life.html' title='Returning to a Previous Life'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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-3707194522805758209.post-794242897663940349</id><published>2008-12-30T22:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T20:24:49.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Full Circle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5TvOl1NI/AAAAAAAAAEo/1AVlMbE-alA/s1600-h/Will+and+Evan+on+slide.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5TvOl1NI/AAAAAAAAAEo/1AVlMbE-alA/s200/Will+and+Evan+on+slide.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287288973790926034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5TLZAtUI/AAAAAAAAAEg/1u5EOs9Ag9I/s1600-h/Meme+%26+Papa+w:+grandkids.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5TLZAtUI/AAAAAAAAAEg/1u5EOs9Ag9I/s200/Meme+%26+Papa+w:+grandkids.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287288964170954050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5Sx_eepI/AAAAAAAAAEY/P3vwhZm_1b8/s1600-h/2+P%27s+with+pumpkin.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5Sx_eepI/AAAAAAAAAEY/P3vwhZm_1b8/s200/2+P%27s+with+pumpkin.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287288957352966802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Have you ever heard the saying "you can't have your cake and eat it too"?  I have &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;always considered it a silly saying that made no sense, but right now it seems to fit&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;my life perfectly. Basically, it represents the inability to have all you want when the choices are impossible to combine.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;I love being in control of my own life and my surroundings. I enjoy peace and quite,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;routines and having a pretty good idea of what my next day is going to be like. What I &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;don't love is being away from my family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss having a partner to lean on in difficult times, to cuddle up to on cold nights, to share the joys of life with. I miss my children, especially the family gatherings where we share our ideas and experiences, play games, watch movies and enjoy each other's company. I miss watching my grandchildren grow, sharing in their daily milestones and joys of childhood. I miss lunches with a girlfriend and days spent browsing shops or antique malls together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;I realized it is impossible for me to "have my cake and eat it too" and that the time had come to make a choice between my two worlds. Ultimately my decision was based on which one would bring me the most happiness.  So now I have come full circle, back to the home and family I had in California.  There will be a period of adjustment as I ease back into a life very different from the one I lived in Arizona but kisses from the tiny lips of my grandchildren on my cheek make it all worthwhile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;The circle of life never ends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-794242897663940349?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/794242897663940349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=794242897663940349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/794242897663940349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/794242897663940349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/12/full-circle.html' title='Full Circle'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SWA5TvOl1NI/AAAAAAAAAEo/1AVlMbE-alA/s72-c/Will+and+Evan+on+slide.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-8640308637398805963</id><published>2008-09-22T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T09:52:46.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sum of All My Fears</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SOZNces9xlI/AAAAAAAAACU/_2Y0n6W-GNE/s1600-h/Arizona+rock+with+elephant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SOZNces9xlI/AAAAAAAAACU/_2Y0n6W-GNE/s200/Arizona+rock+with+elephant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252971167047599698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- false&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- evidence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- appearing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;- re&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;al&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;I am amazed at how well I have adjusted to being alone and how fearless I have become because of it. Fear is one of the most driving forces in human nature. It is also one of the most destructive. For me, fear has been the cornerstone of my life. Not the kind of fear where you think someone is out to get you or fear that some act of God is going to fell you. It's the fears of everyday life that has had me so absorbed. What will people think of me is the biggest one of all. I have always had a great fear of not being accepted, not measuring up to one's standards, not making the grade (so to speak). Unfortunately, the consequence of all this fear was a huge blow to my ego, and trying to compensate for that opened me up for a myriad of faults.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Other fears that have plagued me in the past are fear of being alone, going places by myself (especially if unfamiliar), even eating alone in a restaurant. If I saw a person that looked "suspicious" or "strange" I would be fearful. If I was in a neighborhood or area that was deemed "not safe", I would be very fearful. If a family member wasn't home on time or the phone rang late at night my mind would think of all the bad things that might have happened. I spent a lifetime worrying about the proverbial "what if''".  &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;All these fears were created by one source - me! Me and my very own mind, with its constant fear of the unknown. There was no real cause for fear, just my imagined creation of it. I now have a better understanding of the saying "there is nothing to fear but fear itself".  It is so true. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone experiences a fear of the unknown. Each moment ahead of the one that we are living in possesses the unknown. The question is - why are we so fearful of it? Most of these unknown factors aren't even important, they are just fabrications of our perceptions and are usually unfounded. All the others are simply out of our control and need to be dealt with as they come. Whether we fret about them before hand or not, the outcome will still be the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Living a "fearless" life had opened me up to so many new experiences and brought me so much pleasure. I have met a diverse array of people and enjoyed a multiplicity of new places. I am comfortable driving or walking anywhere I want to go, exploring the world around me. I have also acquired a new respect for all people along with a higher appreciation for their dissimilarities.  No one needs to be feared simply because they are different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;So these days I count the sum of all my fears as zero, well almost zero. I am still not going bungee jumping off some cliff or riding the biggest roller coaster. Some fears just won't go away. But I finally feel free of the ridiculous fears that once plagued me.  I no longer fear what other people might think. Their thoughts just don't matter. As for the fear of the unknown - I now embrace it, look forward to it with anticipation of goodness. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Without fear there is peace. Peace of mind and peace of heart. This I wish for everyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-8640308637398805963?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/8640308637398805963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=8640308637398805963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/8640308637398805963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/8640308637398805963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/09/sum-of-all-my-fears.html' title='The Sum of All My Fears'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SOZNces9xlI/AAAAAAAAACU/_2Y0n6W-GNE/s72-c/Arizona+rock+with+elephant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-1802931463020647937</id><published>2008-06-29T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T09:57:41.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unexpected Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SGe8zqmffYI/AAAAAAAAAB0/1PLlJEzMvNw/s1600-h/Marilee+on+Swing+w:trees.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SGe8zqmffYI/AAAAAAAAAB0/1PLlJEzMvNw/s200/Marilee+on+Swing+w:trees.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217346289127095682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Sometimes things happen in our lives that are completely out of our control. Suddenly a road can appear out of nowhere with a big sign that says "you must turn here". This road showed up on my path a little over a month ago and changed my life, yet again, towards a new direction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I had to make the choice of taking a safer path than I had been on; one that would offer me shelter while I weathered out my personal storm. So I moved out of my dearly loved little house in Colorado to big basement apartment in my friends home in Arizona. Fortunately, my friend is my soul mate and the town where I now live is not too much different from the one I left.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Living with a friend who has shared a lifetime with me is a blessing from God. It has brought peace to my soul and guidance to my life, both of which were greatly needed. I still feel a strong connection to Colorado, but life here offers me more spiritual growth and a better chance at regaining the self-worth I have been seeking for so long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I will miss Colorado, with it wonderful people and crazy weather (tornadoes and all). Who knows, maybe someday I will return there. I do not know what the future holds for me; right now I am taking it one day at a time. I know my dogs are happy here, although I think Niki will miss romping in the snow. I trust their sense of wellbeing and will follow their lead on this one! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-1802931463020647937?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/1802931463020647937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=1802931463020647937' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/1802931463020647937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/1802931463020647937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/06/unexpected-change.html' title='Unexpected Change'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SGe8zqmffYI/AAAAAAAAAB0/1PLlJEzMvNw/s72-c/Marilee+on+Swing+w:trees.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-4324169570949326032</id><published>2008-06-18T20:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T20:58:40.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Spirit and the Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SFnUsEpjhHI/AAAAAAAAABs/jbn2LNThgJ4/s1600-h/IMG_4061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SFnUsEpjhHI/AAAAAAAAABs/jbn2LNThgJ4/s200/IMG_4061.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213431897285428338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;On May 1st my family lost one of it's dearest members, my nephew Jeff, in a motorcycle accident at (pardon the cliché) the prime of his life. His passing roused me into thinking about what makes us who we are. My conclusion spurred me to write this speech, which I delivered at Jeff's funeral. I want to share it with you so you will know Jeff as I knew him, a truly divine spirit and soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;                                                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt; The spirit and the soul, two human entities that cannot be seen or felt, but exists in all of us as our immortal selves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Our soul is the element that defines who we are, our sense of identity. It is our emotional and intellectual energy, the embodiment of specific qualities that make us who we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our spirit sits at the seat of our emotions, encompassing our most mental and moral characteristics- our true self.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;When we refer to some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;one in the past tense we may describe him or her as a gentle soul with an uplifting spirit. Jeff was this and more. His spirit had the qualities of courage, energy, determination and assertiveness. His soul was kind and gentle, inspiring and moral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Now Jeff's soul has ascended to heaven, but his spirit continues to shine on earth for eternity. Through the coming years we will share many wonderful stories about Jeff, remembering his many talents and accomplishments in life, his laughter, his energy and his enormous love for all those around him. These stories will make us laugh and make us cr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SFnUBL_EJEI/AAAAAAAAABk/OK4i-0d5p90/s1600-h/Three+Tired+Pirates.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SFnUBL_EJEI/AAAAAAAAABk/OK4i-0d5p90/s200/Three+Tired+Pirates.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213431160520320066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;y, but most importantly, they will make us realize that Jeff was not just an ordinary person- but rather and extraordinary person- and that our lives are better for having known him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE LOVE YOU JEFF&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-4324169570949326032?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/4324169570949326032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=4324169570949326032' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/4324169570949326032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/4324169570949326032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/06/spirit-and-soul.html' title='The Spirit and the Soul'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SFnUsEpjhHI/AAAAAAAAABs/jbn2LNThgJ4/s72-c/IMG_4061.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-2961447188983871896</id><published>2008-04-27T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T15:08:37.338-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Safest City</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTr0DE0roI/AAAAAAAAABM/CBPnA2BTp2s/s1600-h/My+Neighbor%27s+House.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 115px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTr0DE0roI/AAAAAAAAABM/CBPnA2BTp2s/s200/My+Neighbor%27s+House.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194035549676285570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;What a pl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;easure it is to rock away an un-seasonally warm afternoon on your &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;neighbor’s front porc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;h. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While admiring the flowers my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;new friend had just planted, we e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;xpressed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;hope that a late frost would not spoil h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;er &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTrUTE0rnI/AAAAAAAAABE/ljx2LfcpCjc/s1600-h/Flowers+in+the+Garden.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 95px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTrUTE0rnI/AAAAAAAAABE/ljx2LfcpCjc/s200/Flowers+in+the+Garden.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194035004215438962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;handiwork. We are  very &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;anxious for spring to arrive bringing both sunshine and rain to our gardens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;As we slowly sipped wine, and gazed around the neighborhood I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;was given a mini review of the people who live around us.  As a homeowner of 20 years, on a street wher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;e most of the housing is rented &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;by college students, my neighbor had a few colorful stories to share about the residents. As she spoke I began to realize that living in modern suburbia (my home in California) was far more colorful than the area I live in now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;My previous town was continually revered as one of the five safest cities in America. This being based on statistics of the ratio of violent crimes and felony crimes (aga&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;inst people) to the number of people living within the city. When I told my neighbor all the “colorful” events that had taken place on my tiny cul-de-sac she was shocked that we made the list. She compared my street to “Wisteria Lane”, of the popular television series, “Desperate Housewives”, and said I should write a book!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;Oddly, when I lived in the “safest city” I still had fears of traveling through certain neighborhoods where I knew crime was high. There are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt; no areas in this town where I fear to travel. No drive by shootings, no gangs walking their turf, no groups of drunken teens, hanging out in parking lots, behaving badly. I can walk my dogs day or night, relax in the park with a book, or stroll across Old Town and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;visit with strangers, all without trepidation. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the crimes or “events” that took place in my suburban neighborhood where committed by people who were either crazy or executing acts against themselves or their families. Those crimes may not make the statistics, but the drama is the same. The crimes that take place in my current town don’t create a exhibition that has to be hashed over endlessly by its residents.  Who needs such drama in their life? N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:georgia;" &gt;ot me, I am happy to give up “Wisteria Lane” any day for what I have now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTwUjE0rqI/AAAAAAAAABc/K2_9vUK-ZaI/s1600-h/across+the+street.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 140px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTwUjE0rqI/AAAAAAAAABc/K2_9vUK-ZaI/s200/across+the+street.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194040506068545186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTrJjE0rmI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dL0V-JlSN78/s1600-h/My+Neighborhood.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 140px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTrJjE0rmI/AAAAAAAAAA8/dL0V-JlSN78/s200/My+Neighborhood.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194034819531845218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTvdDE0rpI/AAAAAAAAABU/xSPW8wycQ0Y/s1600-h/My+Street.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 140px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTvdDE0rpI/AAAAAAAAABU/xSPW8wycQ0Y/s200/My+Street.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194039552585805458" 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/3707194522805758209-2961447188983871896?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/2961447188983871896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=2961447188983871896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/2961447188983871896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/2961447188983871896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/04/safest-city.html' title='The Safest City'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/SBTr0DE0roI/AAAAAAAAABM/CBPnA2BTp2s/s72-c/My+Neighbor%27s+House.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-930237457672793200</id><published>2008-03-30T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T17:25:50.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever Changing Weather</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GBBxcJkCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/E3muJTPllNY/s1600-h/Niki+in+the+snow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GBBxcJkCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/E3muJTPllNY/s200/Niki+in+the+snow.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184066513531408418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GA4hcJkBI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oJItB1HmCn8/s1600-h/My+street+in+snow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GA4hcJkBI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oJItB1HmCn8/s200/My+street+in+snow.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184066354617618450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weather; not even an expert can predict it accurately, especially in Colorado. Every day is different here, which is quite a change from California. In Colorado the sun shines 300 days a year but the temperatures rise and fall dramatically from day to day. Yesterday we enjoyed a warm sunny day and this morning I awoke to a winter wonderland! Four hours later the snow had melted and a fierce wind started blowing. Two hours after that it was back to sunshine and calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the ever changing weather. Learning to live with snow has created a few challenges, but I don't mind. It is so nice to experience the changing seasons. Each part of the year offers a different view of the world around me. I realize I haven't experienced any "extreme" weather here, but even extreme weather seems exciting to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I love about the weather here is being able to wear winter clothing. I have always been fond of  comfy  fabrics in fall colors and the layered look. Of course, red is one of those colors! I also enjoy curling up on the sofa with a fuzzy blanket or snuggling under layers of heavy bed covers.  The best is being able to warm up by a fireplace in your favorite coffee house while sipping a hot latte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even my little dog, Niki, loves the snow. She runs and jumps and tosses the snow in the air with her nose. Beautiful gray geese gather together on the snow covered golf courses reminding me of a beautiful Christmas Card. My favorite is seeing the tree limbs heavily laden with snow out my bedroom window. I know it will all change soon but I am enjoying it while it lasts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-930237457672793200?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/930237457672793200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=930237457672793200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/930237457672793200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/930237457672793200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/03/ever-changing-weather.html' title='Ever Changing Weather'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GBBxcJkCI/AAAAAAAAAAk/E3muJTPllNY/s72-c/Niki+in+the+snow.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-1096898046081835202</id><published>2008-03-26T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T22:07:19.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R-smyhcJkAI/AAAAAAAAAAU/9e7NeHwNuyg/s1600-h/DSCF2041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R-smyhcJkAI/AAAAAAAAAAU/9e7NeHwNuyg/s320/DSCF2041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182278445631639554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I was a child I have loved turn-of the-century homes. Their cozy little rooms with ceilings stretched to the sky, claw-foot tubs and pedestal sinks, windows and walls adorned with moldings, and a covered porch where you can spend a lazy afternoon all evoke my idea of a real home.  Growing up in apartments, I yearned desperately for such a place and spent hours designing my perfect house, complete with a family, a town and its people. At 10 years old I knew exactly where I wanted to be, I just didn’t know how to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am living in a house like I dreamed of, nestled in the foothills of the Northern Colorado Rockies. Life is much different here than in my native California town. The architecture is dated, the pace is slower, the people are friendlier and the seasons change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living in a vintage town has many advantages. The blocks are short and everything is close, which makes walking or bike riding preferred over driving. Shops, markets, banks, coffee houses, restaurants, even the post office, library and civic center are only a few minutes walk from my house. No matter what the weather, you will always find people on the streets, bringing the town to life. I could never be lonely here as there is always someone to strike up a conversation with. It's a comfortable town; like an overstuffed chair, it's easy to settle into.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-1096898046081835202?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/1096898046081835202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=1096898046081835202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/1096898046081835202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/1096898046081835202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/03/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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/_UwL3LvZriGg/R-smyhcJkAI/AAAAAAAAAAU/9e7NeHwNuyg/s72-c/DSCF2041.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-3719982637265686471</id><published>2008-03-25T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T17:31:37.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Whole New Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GCPRcJkDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/s9fwt8crR_U/s1600-h/Mom+at+new+house+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GCPRcJkDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/s9fwt8crR_U/s200/Mom+at+new+house+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184067844971270194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I can't believe a whole year has passed since I last made an entry to my blog. Many things have transpired during this year, taking me down a path much different than I anticipated. While traveling along this path I came to a point where I felt it was time for me to choose between a life that was created for me, and a life that I wanted to create for myself. This decision surfaced after several years of self-absorbed contemplation and soul searching. I couldn't stop asking myself questions like "who am I" , "what do I think of the person I have become" and "what do I have to do to become the person I think I should be"? &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Many people have these thoughts when they reach a certain age; but most are unable to take on the challenges and risks associated with making major changes at that stage of their life. Some just need a shove in the right direction to make the jump. This is what happened to me. In the midst of trying to create a future for myself and my family a big boot came and kicked that dream right out from under us. It was at that moment I knew it was time to take the jump.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now I find myself living alone in another state, far from the life I had known for so long. This new life is definately filled with a myrid of trials and tribulations, but I am up for the challange. I am enjoying all the new experiences and feel a rejuvination of my soul. I don't know where I am headed, but I think I will like the ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-3719982637265686471?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/3719982637265686471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=3719982637265686471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/3719982637265686471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/3719982637265686471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/03/whole-new-year.html' title='A Whole New Year'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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://bp1.blogger.com/_UwL3LvZriGg/R_GCPRcJkDI/AAAAAAAAAAs/s9fwt8crR_U/s72-c/Mom+at+new+house+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-7340320002933159447</id><published>2008-03-25T21:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T21:07:51.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-7340320002933159447?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/7340320002933159447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=7340320002933159447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/7340320002933159447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/7340320002933159447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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-3707194522805758209.post-3138147348178173733</id><published>2007-03-08T22:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T22:14:57.875-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Buying Red Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Busy, busy, busy is the bee that starts up her own business! It’s amazing how energizing the color red can be. I get so excited when I see red peaking out amongst white or other lifeless colors. I am drawn to it immediately. I can’t wait to touch it and take in the depth of its hue.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Oh the joy of buying red things; with hopes that someone will love them as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Red things abound in My Little Red House; cluttering up tabletops, shelves, and walls. It’s funny how the color seems to comfort me when I’m home.  Red blankets on the chair, red pillows on the sofa, red rugs on the floor; they warm me like a fire in the fireplace. I can’t imagine a world without red.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-3138147348178173733?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/3138147348178173733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=3138147348178173733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/3138147348178173733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/3138147348178173733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-love-buying-red-things.html' title='I Love Buying Red Things'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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-3707194522805758209.post-9149248444125773028</id><published>2007-02-09T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T20:58:04.714-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Red is the color of love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As Valentine's Day approaches, we are surrounded by the color &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.classicroses.co.uk/articles/rose_history/rose_history.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;; the universal symbol of love for one another. Cards, balloons, heart shaped boxes of candy and cute little stuffed animals, all in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gigglepoetry.com/poem.aspx?PoemID=142&amp;CategoryID=16"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, adorn shop windows and grocery store isles. More &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.justourpictures.com/roses/redroses.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; roses are purchased on Valentine's Day then any other day of the year. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.robertburns.org/works/444.shtml"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.robertburns.org/works/444.shtml"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;rose represents the deepest, truest love of all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sensationalcolor.com/content/view/840/112/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; is the color of our heart, the part of us we share with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other shades of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://psychology.about.com/od/sensationandperception/a/color_red.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; are related to love and romance as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.crystal-cure.com/pink.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Pink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; says pretty, cute, soft, cuddly, innocent and pure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sensationalcolor.com/content/view/842/130/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Purple&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; says passion, seduction, erotic, secret and deep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is your favorite shade of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trrs.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;red&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-9149248444125773028?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/9149248444125773028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=9149248444125773028' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/9149248444125773028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/9149248444125773028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2007/02/red-is-color-of-love.html' title='Red is the color of love'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3707194522805758209.post-4772734868515448020</id><published>2007-01-30T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T17:37:29.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Red Has Feelings!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;Red makes me happy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;Red makes me sad&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;Red makes me angry&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;Sometimes even mad&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;Red is the color of my middle son's hair&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:lucida grande;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;Red represents the love that I share&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Red can be associated with many feelings:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Passion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Embarrassment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Anger&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;How does red make you feel?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-4772734868515448020?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/4772734868515448020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=4772734868515448020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/4772734868515448020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/4772734868515448020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2007/01/red-has-feelings.html' title='Red Has Feelings!'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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-3707194522805758209.post-6346408842900118159</id><published>2007-01-26T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T11:39:45.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm just wild about red!</title><content type='html'>My favorite color is red. All shades of red, all hues of red, all combinations of red.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3707194522805758209-6346408842900118159?l=wildaboutred.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/feeds/6346408842900118159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3707194522805758209&amp;postID=6346408842900118159' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/6346408842900118159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3707194522805758209/posts/default/6346408842900118159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wildaboutred.blogspot.com/2007/01/im-just-wild-about-red.html' title='I&apos;m just wild about red!'/><author><name>My Little Red House</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01401424593573125593</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></feed>
