<?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-7115729458707408420</id><updated>2011-08-04T11:36:41.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's all about the Jurney</title><subtitle type='html'>Nothing special, just daily thoughts, observations, &amp;amp; comments on my life &amp;amp; the world around me.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7115729458707408420.post-7170603701106067843</id><published>2009-08-06T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T20:10:59.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Moo Moos for Me, Thanks.</title><content type='html'>I am so tired of being punished by fashion designers for being fat! What am I, blind?! Seriously, you think just because I have a big ass I should be denied beautiful, well made, natural fiber, affordable clothes? The only thing you can find for me to wear is a nasty, floral, polyester tents? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's with picking the absolute worst pieces from your regular line of apparel to make into the plus size line? Wal-Mart doesn't sell plus sized v-neck or crewneck t-shirts without some kind of nasty ruffle or lace, or embellishment. Target had lovely semi-sheer lightweight layering-style tees this summer, but offered them in putrid pea green, gaudy gold, and pukey puce. The simple cotton tank and t-shirt dresses by Style &amp; Co. at Macy's were not translated at all into a plus sized option, but you could buy an array of lovely two ply polyester numbers guaranteed to make you sweat like the disgusting hog you are. Sweat-dampened polyester stuck in the crack of your ass. You'll stop traffic, alright. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's sad, depressing, and demeaning. Fashion is supposed to make you feel wonderful, not amplify your insecurities and imperfections.     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair, this is not the case with every designer's plus size line. Eileen Fisher makes absolutely fabulous clothes from fibers found in nature: cotton, linen, silk, cashmere, wool. These materials are classic. Pieces constructed from these fabrics stand the test of time. Only one problem...Eileen Fisher doesn't come cheep. Neither do Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein, or Michael Kors. The few items I do own by these designers are usually last season final clearance items I obtain at 75% off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, it's my fault I'm fat. I should not have ignored my bad eating habits and lack of exercises for so long. I take full responsibility for my extra layers of blubber. In fact, I have joined the gym and am actively trying to turn it all around. I have gone down a pant size. Still, I keep motivated by going to Macy's and browse through the 'regular' size clothes to inspire my continued motivation. Look at all the beautiful clothes I could wear if only I were thin! Screw your health! You could be wearing THAT if you lose the weight! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its terribly unhealthy to be overweight. Obesity should not be condoned. However, I don't feel individuals struggling with being fat should be punished further by forcing them to wear god-awful clothing. Perhaps if individuals felt better about themselves thanks to a beautiful dress or great fitting sweater, they would be more compelled to take better care of themselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7115729458707408420-7170603701106067843?l=journeygirl08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/7170603701106067843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7115729458707408420&amp;postID=7170603701106067843' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/7170603701106067843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/7170603701106067843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-moo-moos-for-me-thanks.html' title='No Moo Moos for Me, Thanks.'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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-7115729458707408420.post-155657842357854223</id><published>2009-07-23T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T08:54:37.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Spite of All the Damages</title><content type='html'>Looking at the Highlights on my Facebook page this morning, I found photos of an estranged friend Ellen's new baby girl on her sister's page. I am friends with her sister, not with her, due to my lack of communication and effort on my part to keep in touch...and blowing off a visit the morning after a bachelorette party as a result of a nasty hangover. At the time, the nausea and pounding headache clouded my ability to process the consequences of not showing up. It wasn't until a few emails went out with no reply I realized my mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellen and I ran into each other one night, out to dinner with different people at the same restaurant in Atlanta. She had dated one of my friends in college. I always had the feeling she didn't like me very much. We were never more than acquaintances, really. We exchanged phone numbers, said we should go to dinner sometime. Holed up in my little apartment in Alpharetta, I declined several times she called to invite me out. Finally, realizing spending all my time alone wasn't a healthy way of life, I accepted a dinner invitation. I had the time of my life. We became fast friends, spending most of our weekends together. I crashed on her couch frequently. She saved my from myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over two years, we had several adventures, made a lot of memories. When she fell in love and decided to move back to KY, I was devastated. It was like I was losing a part of myself. We kept in touch pretty well for awhile, until after her wedding. She was busy, starting her life with her husband and preparing for their first child. Not long after their wedding I met my future husband, became wrapped up in the courting rituals. My job had become more demanding as well, making it difficult to visit. Our friendship fell by the wayside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the first time I have been frivolous with friendship. It seems to be a pattern I have followed all my life. I fail to make the effort it takes to nurture and maintain friendships. There are some exceptions, like my friend Addie. Still, I don't always call enough, don't make an effort to spend time with her when I go home. It's a miracle she puts up with me. Though I don't know if I can repair broken friendships of the past, I can do my best to keep the ones I have now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7115729458707408420-155657842357854223?l=journeygirl08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/155657842357854223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7115729458707408420&amp;postID=155657842357854223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/155657842357854223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/155657842357854223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-spite-of-all-damages.html' title='In Spite of All the Damages'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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-7115729458707408420.post-1061178228345646209</id><published>2009-07-07T14:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T18:48:56.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking to the Future...Seeing the Pacific</title><content type='html'>Since returning from our exploratory trip to Silicon Valley, it seems most conversations between my husband and I revolve around the location which we will call home. Each conversation brings us one step closer to once again packing up the moving van, the compass pointing towards the west.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our mission was to travel to America's technology mecca in search of the 'Valley Advantage' as it pertains to technology start-up culture in contrast to start-up culture in Atlanta (This was actually my husband's mission. I tagged along as photographer/videographer). A serial entrepreneur, my husband is always working on an idea for a new technology company. When we met, he was in the midst of searching for capital to fund a product he developed. Though he now holds a regular consulting gig, he is always in the start-up state of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I traveled to the Bay Area once, an extended field trip with my department in college. Needless to say, my recollection of the visit is hazy at best, thanks to the Anchor Steam beers, tequilla shots, and Irish carbombs. This trip with my husband was much more enlightening to the landscape and culture of the area. San Fransisco was exactly what I expected. An eclectic and energetic city. Our rental car took us to all the city landmarks: Fisherman's Warf, The Presidio, Golden Gate Park, Haight/Ashbury, the Financial District, Union Square. We didn't see Lombard Street, but after tackling one particularly terrifying 40 degree incline, my tour of the city was through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the majority of our time in the Palo Alto/Mountain View/San Mateo area. The El Camino Real corridor, if you will. The geography alone is compelling. Within an hour you can be in the city, in a small town, in the moutains, or at the ocean. Not only was it completely picturesque, surrounded by mountains, lush evergreen plants and mild temperatures, it was like Disneyland for nerds. Every major technology company you can think of - from Apple to Facebook - was there, within a few short miles of each other. The professional services in the area are custom tailored to cater to the technology community. We were in the hub of innovation. We even went to the Computer History Museum. We also took a late night tour of the Apple campus in Cupertino. Oh, the things I do for love...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conclusion drawn from our week in Geek was this: though you can start a tech company anywhere, the dichotomy of Silicon Valley is completely unique from anywhere else in the US, perhaps the world. Coupled with the beautiful landscape, Silicon Valley casts a seductive spell, especially for the serial entrepreneurs like my husband. The seed of contemplations was planted and began taking root.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First came the discussion of our present residence in rural East Georgia in regards to my husband's involvement in the Atlanta start-up community. Perhaps we should move back into the city. Then, after a frustrating discussion about the future of technology in Atlanta with a fellow professional came the statement I knew was inevitable since we boarded the plan in San Fransisco: maybe we should think about moving to California. Just an idea, he assured me. He didn't really want to move. I was naively relieved until he called me down to his office one night to look at the houses for rent in Redwood City within our budget. I think I started crying at that point. Once he starts taking interest in housing, its a done deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are still too many variables in our lives here to up and move to California, but I know I'm just biding my time. While I am terrified of moving across the country further away from my family, living without a timeline for our departure causes most of my reluctance. It's like waiting for your execution without a definitive date. Okay, maybe execution is a little extreme, but you get my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I expressed this concern to my husband today. I cried a little too, I couldn't help myself. Pending the proper arrangements - namely his finding a job and a place to live - the tentative date for our departure will be the first of next year. Five months of southern comfort and grace before embarking on a west coast lifestyle. Am I up to the challenge? I hope so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7115729458707408420-1061178228345646209?l=journeygirl08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/1061178228345646209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7115729458707408420&amp;postID=1061178228345646209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/1061178228345646209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/1061178228345646209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/2009/07/looking-to-futureseeing-pacific.html' title='Looking to the Future...Seeing the Pacific'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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-7115729458707408420.post-8567764285967121667</id><published>2009-06-25T18:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T18:43:16.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Be Workin' On My Fitness</title><content type='html'>Wooo...Day one at the gym. Boy, do I have a long way to go. Getting started is always the hardest part, especially for a fat girl pushing 30. I know, I know...I shouldn't refer to myself as the "fat girl" but the reality of the situation is I am extremely overweight. Denying the problem is what got me this far down the pudgy road. So, now I'm facing the fat girl in the mirror and dragging her fat ass to the gym. I didn't get this way overnight and it's not going to change overnight. There's a long, grueling journey ahead of me, but I am up to the challenge. See you on the eliptical!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7115729458707408420-8567764285967121667?l=journeygirl08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/8567764285967121667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7115729458707408420&amp;postID=8567764285967121667' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/8567764285967121667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/8567764285967121667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-be-workin-on-my-fitness.html' title='I Be Workin&apos; On My Fitness'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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-7115729458707408420.post-3679586207224968253</id><published>2009-06-21T11:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T16:55:17.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Father's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGRJ14CpLsY/SkAZH7Y7NkI/AAAAAAAAFf8/QRsKwAqWrNc/s1600-h/IMG_2321.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 151px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGRJ14CpLsY/SkAZH7Y7NkI/AAAAAAAAFf8/QRsKwAqWrNc/s320/IMG_2321.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350303981308163650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;One of my fondest memories as a child was having breakfast with my Papa. That's my father, for those who don't know me. Legend has it, when my mom was pregnant, Papa would talk to her belly, reffering to himself as such. Once I was born and reached the age of talking, he tried to get me to say 'Daddy'. I refused. I guess I didn't know who 'Daddy' was. Finally, he tried getting me to say 'Papa.' I repeated it immediately. He's been Papa to me and pretty much everyone who's ever known him since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa worked swing shift when I was little. My mom worked during the day, so I stayed with him in the until it was time for him to go to work. Some mornings, I'm sure we had breakfast at home. Microwave scrambled eggs were his specialty and my favorite :) But the breakfasts I remember were either doughnut holes and chocolate milk from Burke's Bakery in Constitution Square or pancakes and sausage at the McDonald's on the hill in Danville.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of which culinary masterpiece or location we chose, the thing I remember most about those breakfasts was the time we spent together. Though I was just a little kid, we would sit and talk about whatever popped into my toddler mind. He didn't care I was babbling about my great-grandfather's ferrets or one of my Little Golden Books. He just wanted to spend time with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I got older and even now, it doesn't matter what we do, Papa still just loves spending time with me, talking about whatever pops into my mind. Though we don't get as much face time, with me living in Georgia, I rarely go a day without talking to him - or my Mama, for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him so much and am very proud to call him my Papa. Happy Father's Day, Papa. you're the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7115729458707408420-3679586207224968253?l=journeygirl08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/3679586207224968253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7115729458707408420&amp;postID=3679586207224968253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/3679586207224968253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/3679586207224968253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day.html' title='Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hGRJ14CpLsY/SkAZH7Y7NkI/AAAAAAAAFf8/QRsKwAqWrNc/s72-c/IMG_2321.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7115729458707408420.post-2635350637741826168</id><published>2009-06-20T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T19:22:05.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ahhh...the Bay City Rollers. Gotta love 'em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As if I don't spend enough time utilizing social media, here I go, starting a blog. Honestly, I don't have a theme or anything truly important to say. I do have, however, this overwhelming urge to organize my thoughts and observations and post them for others to read and comment. I'm not striving for literary perfection or journalistic stardom. I often just run across information I find interesting and feel the need to express my opinions or analyze certain aspects. A semi-intellectual brain dump, if you will. I may also include my thoughts on music &amp;amp; movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One way or another, at least all this stuff will be out here and not rattling around my head!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7115729458707408420-2635350637741826168?l=journeygirl08.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/feeds/2635350637741826168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7115729458707408420&amp;postID=2635350637741826168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/2635350637741826168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7115729458707408420/posts/default/2635350637741826168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://journeygirl08.blogspot.com/2009/06/s-t-u-r-d-y-night.html' title='S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!'/><author><name>journeygirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17038103719050510047</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>
