<?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-10766319</id><updated>2011-12-14T18:42:36.268-08:00</updated><title type='text'>pluelife</title><subtitle type='html'>I will observe the natives, and report back what I find.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10766319.post-6009472554975056759</id><published>2010-03-21T17:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T17:45:48.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wish list</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0009W7OJO?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=savtheshosto-20&amp;amp;linkCode=as2&amp;amp;camp=1789&amp;amp;creative=9325&amp;amp;creativeASIN=B0009W7OJO"&gt;Corsair Memory VS2GBKIT400C3 2 GB PC3200 400MHz 184-Pin DDR Desktop Memory Kit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=savtheshosto-20&amp;amp;l=as2&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=B0009W7OJO" width="1" height="1" border="0" alt="" style="border:none !important; margin:0px !important;" /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-6009472554975056759?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/6009472554975056759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=6009472554975056759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/6009472554975056759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/6009472554975056759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2010/03/wish-list.html' title='wish list'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-115092171152266819</id><published>2006-06-21T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T13:28:31.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uma is a Movie Star?</title><content type='html'>The nanny I had growing up is a part of my family. We don't call her by name, we call her Ah-yee, which in Chinese, means that she's my mother's sister. We love her like someone who will love you unconditionally without expecting you to become a surgeon. Because my parents...their love is conditional. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone loves Ah-yee, in fact, when my sister was looking for a summer job, Ah-yee found one for her at the best cancer institute in the country. How? Well, she just happened to know the lady who is director of the program. And of course, she loves Ah-yee because everyone loves Ah-yee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, an unbelievably lucky little girl named Anna gets to have Ah-yee five days a week. She's the granddaughter of a world-reknown architect and attends a really posh school in Manhattan.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the other day, Ah-yee told my sister that she went on a bowling playdate with Anna and Anna's friend, Maya. Ah-yee said that she didn't want to play, because she never bowled in her life, but then Maya's mom Uma said, "C'mon Kathy, just try it one time." So Ah-yee did and bowled a strike her very first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you say Uma?" Jenny asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Does she have blond hair?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenny showed her a DVD of Gattaca and said, "Does she look like that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uma is a movie star?...Wait, Mr. Hawke is a movie star too?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-115092171152266819?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/115092171152266819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=115092171152266819' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/115092171152266819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/115092171152266819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/06/uma-is-movie-star.html' title='Uma is a Movie Star?'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114982235051398386</id><published>2006-06-08T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T20:05:50.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Neighborhood Dog Whispering Bitch</title><content type='html'>I was walking down the street today when I saw the cutest little brown chocolate lab. He was so sweet and squishable. What was really amazing is that he was completely well-behaved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my Scout was a puppy, she was a problem child. She was the craziest thing on four legs, I could not walk her at all because she would pull so hard, she was practically walking on only her hind legs. Cute, she was. But she behaved badly. She chewed up my dining room table, destroyed my couch pillows (along with my sister's fleece pullover), and ate half a spatula. (When I took her to the vet and showed him what she ate, he looked at it, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Don't worry, she's fine.") She also ripped open a bottle of Advil and licked the orange coating off of 150 Advil tablets.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I praised the puppy's behavior to his owner, and told her how crazy Scout used to be. She said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have to show her that you're the pack leader, or she's going to treat you like dirt." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't what she said, but the way she said it. She was so smug I wanted to kick her in the head and steal her puppy. I took Scout to a dog trainer, who admitted to me that Scout was her "challenge dog." I think, dogs, like children, come in many different flavors, and I just happened to get one that had a bit of crazy in her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114982235051398386?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114982235051398386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114982235051398386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114982235051398386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114982235051398386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/06/neighborhood-dog-whispering-bitch.html' title='The Neighborhood Dog Whispering Bitch'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114949107244002932</id><published>2006-06-04T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T00:04:32.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neighbor Kid</title><content type='html'>Every so often we hear a strange, repetitive noise coming from our neighbor's yard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thunk" (2 beats) &lt;br /&gt;"Thunk" (2 beats) &lt;br /&gt;"Thunk" (2 beats)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've discovered that it is the neighbor's son, wacking their tree with a large mallet-like tool that is not sharp enough to do anything but make thunk noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've decided that he is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Younger than we thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Crazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The arguments against him being crazy is that we've seen him with his friends, who seem like normal kids. But, then again, we've seen him do some pretty strange things, like ride his teeny weeny, extremely loud-farting dirtbike up and down the block for about ten minutes, every once in a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114949107244002932?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114949107244002932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114949107244002932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114949107244002932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114949107244002932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/06/neighbor-kid.html' title='Neighbor Kid'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114719857622353580</id><published>2006-05-09T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T11:16:16.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry, This Spot is Took'en</title><content type='html'>Peter and I went to Hollywood, FL for a conference and we stayed at the Hard Rock Cafe Hotel, which was lots of fun - most especially because things are open 24 hours, which is important to us since we never go to sleep.  They upgraded us into a hotel room which had the most gigundous tub, which could easily have fit four people.  The last time I ran a bath was five years ago, when I lived in my old apartment in Queens.  All the tubs we've had since then have been so small it wasn't worth the bother.  It was so great to have a real bathtub and we've decided that even if we have to put a tub in our bedroom, that it is worth it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that happened in Florida is that after Peter and I settled into a prime spot down by the pool, a girl across the way says to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sweetie, you've got to move, those chairs are took'en."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You mean, these chairs are taken?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO! They're TOOK'EN!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter was convinced that she was foreign, but she did not speak with an accent and I don't think foreigners would have called me sweetie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114719857622353580?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114719857622353580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114719857622353580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114719857622353580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114719857622353580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/05/sorry-this-spot-is-tooken.html' title='Sorry, This Spot is Took&apos;en'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114607497679762391</id><published>2006-04-26T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T11:09:36.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop Signs, People</title><content type='html'>I don't know why people in Westchester blow by stop signs.  Not only do they ignore stop signs with impunity, but people around here don't seem to know the etiquette for a 4-way stop. The FIRST CAR has the right-of-way, people!!  That means that if I get to the 4-way first, that the car coming up the street on my right should STOP his car so that I can drive on.  IT DOES NOT MEAN that, "Oh, she's stopped, so I can keep going."  (Which is how almost everyone in Westchester thinks) The other day I was caught at a stop sign for five minutes because people kept blowing by their stop signs, assuming that I was just "letting them go."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114607497679762391?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114607497679762391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114607497679762391' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114607497679762391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114607497679762391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/04/stop-signs-people.html' title='Stop Signs, People'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114541980681614412</id><published>2006-04-18T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T21:10:19.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring is HERE!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7323/846/1600/IMG_0337.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7323/846/400/IMG_0337.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the gorgeous magnolia tree in my backyard. Isn't she lovely?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114541980681614412?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114541980681614412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114541980681614412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114541980681614412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114541980681614412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/04/spring-is-here.html' title='Spring is HERE!!'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114491353233079700</id><published>2006-04-13T00:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T00:32:12.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Online Dating</title><content type='html'>So my friend Angela sent me an email the other day that she has been trying online dating and last week, she went out on a date with my old friend Bryan (who I haven't seen in about ten years). Bryan and I went to high school together and we were pretty good friends.  I wrote Angela that I knew Bryan back when I was taller than him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, she told me that it was funny that I wrote that because it was one of the first things he said about me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so excited, I asked her, "So, what does he look like now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her answer: "Uh, well, I didn't know what he looked like then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For purely selfish reasons I would like this to work out because I would love to have a couple friendship.  Peter and I do not have one couple friendship because everyone we know who gets married just drops off the face of the planet and never calls us again. We only get the yearly Christmas picture-cards with their stiffly-posed progeny holding holiday ornaments and staring off into space. Very. Cute. Not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every year I say, "Oh, that's nice.  Here's a picture of the kids we had that you've never met because we've stopped calling you."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I wanted to pose the dogs and send cards out to people as a joke, but Peter said that we couldn't do that, because there are actual people who do that and it's not a joke to them and our friends would think we were one of THOSE people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other idea was to send Christmas photo cards of other people's children as in: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's Vinny and Gretchen's Daughter Katie Wishing You All the Best This Holiday Season!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter said that people would not think it was funny at all, that in fact, people would think that we were AWFUL people if we did that and will finally pick up the telephone to call us for the first time in three years to berate us for being jealous of their wonderful progeny-rich lives. These are people whose sole purpose in life is to create children to paste on photo cards.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it would be nice to have a couple friendship with another couple. A couple that is fun and reads novels once in a while and who volunteered for the Peace Corps in Africa. A couple who would never, EVER, send me a Christmas photo card unless it was a joke.  A joke that everyone got.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114491353233079700?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114491353233079700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114491353233079700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114491353233079700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114491353233079700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/04/online-dating.html' title='Online Dating'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114481837160967164</id><published>2006-04-11T22:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T22:07:00.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So, What Are We Doing for Passover?</title><content type='html'>For the past two days, I've been asking my husband:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, are we going to your mother's for Passover?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he just continues staring into his laptop as if I didn't say a word. Finally, today, I said, loudly, so I am sure to get his attention:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Listen, I just need to know so I don't make any other plans, are we GOING or are we NOT GOING to your mother's for Passover?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked at me, blinked several times, and said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you keep asking me that? We're CATHOLIC."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114481837160967164?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114481837160967164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114481837160967164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114481837160967164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114481837160967164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-what-are-we-doing-for-passover_11.html' title='So, What Are We Doing for Passover?'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114292560197498144</id><published>2006-03-20T23:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T23:20:01.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Are We Doing? Where Are We Going?</title><content type='html'>These days, my husband and I go to record stores (I mean, CD stores) and look up bands he used to play with when he was on the road and then we go to bookstores where I look up books written by ex-classmates of mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I went to Borders and flipped through a Paris Review and saw that someone I went to grad. school with had won the Whiting Writers Award. It's basically $35K for being an emerging writer. I'm always really happy for people who are out there and get recognition. Expecially people I know, but it was kind of freaky because I picked up another literary magazine and another one of my friends was published there.  I go to a comfy, untrafficked part of the bookstore and sit down and staring at me was a book written by someone I went to high school with, whose short story is in the current issue of the New Yorker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is what Naomi Watts felt when her friend Nicole Kidman was super famous and getting to work with all these great people when poor Naomi couldn't even pay her rent on time.  And then I worried that I wasn't Naomi Watts, but rather, some no-name nobody person they both know who still couldn't get her rent together and never would.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114292560197498144?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114292560197498144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114292560197498144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114292560197498144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114292560197498144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-are-we-doing-where-are-we-going_20.html' title='What Are We Doing? Where Are We Going?'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114198428557569587</id><published>2006-03-10T01:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T01:51:25.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who done it</title><content type='html'>The other night, I was sitting on my sofa and I encountered a stink of an extremely vile nature. I checked on both dogs and they were both sleeping, so I assumed that one of them was letting out some heinous dog biscuit farts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I discovered gross diarhea stains on both of the dog beds. So now the topic of CSI Westchester is: did both Scout and Rocky poop on their dogs beds (which, by the way, have only recently been washed and put to use after being stashed away for months and months because I had been too lazy to wash them - which led to an angry and defiant Scout who plopped down on our Very Expensive Restoration Hardware sofa - otherwise known as The Wrong Sofa For Dog Owners Because It Is So Easily Stained) or did one of them poop on both beds, and if it was only one of them, which one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other question is - Why are they pooping on their beds?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly - Why would they still continue sleeping on their poopy dog beds?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114198428557569587?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114198428557569587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114198428557569587' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114198428557569587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114198428557569587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/03/who-done-it.html' title='Who done it'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-114155359028824904</id><published>2006-03-05T02:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T02:18:06.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitajima Exhibit</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7323/846/1600/Kitajima054NY.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7323/846/400/Kitajima054NY.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Check out the Keizo Kitajima exhibit at the Cohen Amador Gallery.  It's going until April 1, 2006.  This is a picture of elephants walking the streets of Manhattan.  It's my favorite one and it can be yours for a mere $1,500.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-114155359028824904?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/114155359028824904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=114155359028824904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114155359028824904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/114155359028824904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2006/03/kitajima-exhibit.html' title='Kitajima Exhibit'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-112441643288472055</id><published>2005-08-18T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-18T18:53:52.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrity Sighting</title><content type='html'>I saw Sam Champion, the channel 7 weather man, wearing really ugly surfer shorts on 14th street last night.  His hair was totally in perfect shape.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to go up to him and say, "Hey Sam Champion, can't you tell Liz Cho to do something about her hair?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-112441643288472055?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/112441643288472055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=112441643288472055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112441643288472055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112441643288472055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2005/08/celebrity-sighting.html' title='Celebrity Sighting'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-112267067874646676</id><published>2005-07-29T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T01:55:14.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Job</title><content type='html'>I interviewed for a job a few weeks ago, and it went like this:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: I see from your resume that you've never done anything like this before.  &lt;br /&gt;Me: I guess not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(long pause)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interviewer: Well, do you want to take a crack at it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So guess who is going to be an adjunct professor teaching English 120 to the incoming class of freshmen at a local Catholic college?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;plue!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-112267067874646676?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/112267067874646676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=112267067874646676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112267067874646676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112267067874646676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2005/07/new-job.html' title='A New Job'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-112183614560002191</id><published>2005-07-19T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T22:09:05.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Forgotten BBQ - July 16</title><content type='html'>All day Peter and I had this feeling that we had something to do today.  At 6 o’clock, when John calls Peter and tells him he’s hanging out with Vinnie, Peter says, “What, are you seeing him every day now?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No,” John says, “I’m at his house for THE BARBEQUE.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-112183614560002191?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/112183614560002191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=112183614560002191' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112183614560002191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112183614560002191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2005/07/forgotten-bbq-july-16.html' title='The Forgotten BBQ - July 16'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-112183581692899416</id><published>2005-07-19T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:00:38.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy family day - June 25, 2005</title><content type='html'>We just spent the day with Peter’s family.  We left half an hour earlier than it takes to get to his house, so of course we were half an hour late and the last to arrive. The second we got to the apartment, Peter got out the vacuum cleaner and his mother completely went ape-shit.  We were supposed to show up early to vacuum the floor – but there was traffic and then a wrong turn in a very scary part of the Bronx, and sometimes we just don’t get what we want so suck it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason why I don’t think Peter’s sister and I will ever be best buds:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When her husband invited Tina to sit next to him so that Peter and I could sit together, her response was, “I am NOT moving.  I’m GOOD WHERE I AM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like saying – “I know that you couldn’t be bothered to come to my bridal shower, refused to show up an hour earlier to our wedding to take family photos, and have never shown up to a birthday party/housewarming/Christmas dinner at our home, but is too much to ask to MOVE YOUR FAT ASS one seat down so that I can sit with my husband?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t believe that Peter was raised by these people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-112183581692899416?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/112183581692899416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=112183581692899416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112183581692899416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/112183581692899416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2005/07/happy-family-day-june-25-2005.html' title='Happy family day - June 25, 2005'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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-10766319.post-110812196323262475</id><published>2005-02-11T03:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T13:48:24.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life with PLUE!</title><content type='html'>Hi This is my blog&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10766319-110812196323262475?l=lifewithplue.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/feeds/110812196323262475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10766319&amp;postID=110812196323262475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/110812196323262475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10766319/posts/default/110812196323262475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lifewithplue.blogspot.com/2005/02/life-with-plue.html' title='Life with PLUE!'/><author><name>plue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14867234527228338919</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>
