<?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-3833449427275537266</id><updated>2011-09-30T05:04:28.401-07:00</updated><category term='carpal tunnel'/><category term='allergies'/><category term='bonsai'/><category term='SNL'/><category term='Bean-0'/><category term='gas'/><category term='12 year-old'/><category term='ponytail palm'/><category term='head bobbing'/><category term='DS'/><category term='cats'/><category term='Spanish'/><category term='school'/><category term='literacy'/><category term='kindergartner'/><category term='third graders'/><category term='Night at the Roxbury'/><category term='buenos dias'/><category term='teaching'/><category term='spelling'/><category term='prayer'/><title type='text'>Where's My Eyebrow?</title><subtitle type='html'>a.k.a. (I think I hit my humorous.) 

Life and humor whilst parenting and teaching.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6551084536609326705</id><published>2011-01-01T14:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T14:29:05.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Bath and Body Works</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TR-qdhXZ15I/AAAAAAAAAF4/725p6WZKXO4/s1600/pBBW1-4966217v194.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 261px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TR-qdhXZ15I/AAAAAAAAAF4/725p6WZKXO4/s400/pBBW1-4966217v194.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557347889347942290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TR-pmgPxsrI/AAAAAAAAAFo/0S8Pf58ZSew/s1600/hdr_midnightpomegranate_090208.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I the only person who finds humor in some of the names of the scents at Bath and Body Works? Especially one, Midnight Pomegranate. Why midnight? Why not noon? Why pomegranate? Why not avocado? The possibilities are endless. Every time I see the name of this scent, it makes me think of the book title &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil&lt;/span&gt;. Then it makes me think of a website I ran across while I was learning about playing the blues - it had a formula for creating a blues musician's name. I think the formula was to use the name of an odd fruit or vegetable and then the name of a dead president. Ex. Cucumber Eisenhower or Kumquat Wilson. I think extra points were given for alliteration - Rhubarb Roosevelt, for example. Anyway, all this runs through my mind when I see "Midnight Pomegranate." Seems like to better sell their product they'd want a potential buyer to picture something restful and relaxing instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/BBY/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6551084536609326705?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6551084536609326705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2011/01/more-bath-and-body-works.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6551084536609326705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6551084536609326705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2011/01/more-bath-and-body-works.html' title='More Bath and Body Works'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TR-qdhXZ15I/AAAAAAAAAF4/725p6WZKXO4/s72-c/pBBW1-4966217v194.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-313418093731565786</id><published>2010-12-30T18:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T18:59:16.255-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bath and Body Works</title><content type='html'>Today as my 13 year old son and I browsed the sale at Bath and Body Works, we sniffed every scent they had for sale. We found some scents we really liked and some that 'bout knocked us to our knees - especially the heated oil - whew! My son then made a sound observation. He said, "This would be a great place to work - no one would ever know you'd passed gas!" Hmmmm... Then he added... "And I just gave it a test run!"  He was so proud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-313418093731565786?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/313418093731565786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/12/bath-and-body-works.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/313418093731565786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/313418093731565786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/12/bath-and-body-works.html' title='Bath and Body Works'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6906923058820891052</id><published>2010-12-04T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T21:15:01.512-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bonsai'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ponytail palm'/><title type='text'>Rats</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TPsfTd7et9I/AAAAAAAAAFc/NCy_Lj7GBaA/s1600/dec%2B2010%2B108.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TPsfTd7et9I/AAAAAAAAAFc/NCy_Lj7GBaA/s200/dec%2B2010%2B108.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547061785348978642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, actually it was cats. Well, really just one cat. She gnawed on a nice Ponytail Palm plant that I've had for years. I've been trying to nurture it into a bonsai-type form. However, that was cut short! lol. Not sure if it will make it. Now I just have to find it a home. I guess I should take it to work then. :-(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6906923058820891052?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6906923058820891052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/12/rats.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6906923058820891052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6906923058820891052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/12/rats.html' title='Rats'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TPsfTd7et9I/AAAAAAAAAFc/NCy_Lj7GBaA/s72-c/dec%2B2010%2B108.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-2239728067403413011</id><published>2010-11-27T17:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T21:17:44.564-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='carpal tunnel'/><title type='text'>give me a hand</title><content type='html'>things that are hard to do one-handed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;use the shift key&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;blow-dry hair - blow-drying whilst using a brush can just be totally abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pull up slacks&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;wear clothes w/o elastic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;read a dtb (dead tree book)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;hold &amp;amp; read a Nook (&amp;amp; turn pages)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;open items with lids, such as pain meds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;fasten a seat-belt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;apply shampoo and conditioner in any amount smaller than 1 cup blobs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;applying deodorant&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;opening zip-lock bags&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;taking off jackets&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;rubbing left eye with right hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;kung-foo fighting with 12-year old son&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;so it's probably wise to steer clear of one-handed people until they reaquire the use of both hands. sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-2239728067403413011?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/2239728067403413011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/11/give-me-hand.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/2239728067403413011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/2239728067403413011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/11/give-me-hand.html' title='give me a hand'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-3184442845125500679</id><published>2010-08-07T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T20:28:24.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Deer!</title><content type='html'>It's all in perspective. Funny how one's view of things change over time. For years I've seen this image all over the place on the back windows of trucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TF4igqpUhRI/AAAAAAAAAFM/gxtPSRUm3Yg/s1600/Browning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TF4igqpUhRI/AAAAAAAAAFM/gxtPSRUm3Yg/s200/Browning.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502873739292083474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Each time I saw this image I thought it was a dancing figure, maybe on fire, the bottom two lines being the legs. I wasn't sure I was right, but thought maybe it was a company logo. The problem I had with this logo was that I saw the positive space only - the lines of the shape. Whomever created the logo counted on people's brains being able to see the image in the negative space - the white part of the image. Just within the past month I finally saw what Browning, the company this logo represents, meant for me to see - a deer. It's the image of a buck's head facing left and the antlers above. But then most people probably already see that. Just not me. I just found it amusing to have seen this image so often and only recently figured it out. So, what do you see?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-3184442845125500679?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/3184442845125500679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/08/oh-deer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3184442845125500679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3184442845125500679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/08/oh-deer.html' title='Oh Deer!'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/TF4igqpUhRI/AAAAAAAAAFM/gxtPSRUm3Yg/s72-c/Browning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6158991022062005649</id><published>2010-06-05T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T17:21:55.365-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bean-0'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='12 year-old'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gas'/><title type='text'>Bean-Oh-My!</title><content type='html'>We were watching TV together a few nights ago. On came a commercial for Bean-o. The commercial announcer said, "It prevents gas!" My 12 year-old son said completely deadpan, "Why would anyone want to prevent gas????" Need I say more?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6158991022062005649?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6158991022062005649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/06/bean-oh-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6158991022062005649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6158991022062005649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/06/bean-oh-my.html' title='Bean-Oh-My!'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-5218678922832439729</id><published>2010-05-04T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T18:37:17.356-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kindergartner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='DS'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Spanish'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buenos dias'/><title type='text'>Language Barrier</title><content type='html'>My son and I were walking slowly out of the school building yesterday. Darling son was playing his personal gaming device of the moment. A cutie-pie kindergartner walked past us going the opposite direction and I heard him say, "buenos dias" as he walked by. Ah, how sweet I thought to myself - what a groovy, multi-cultural school we have. Sigh with grin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I said "buenos dias" back to him, albeit a little delayed. My son then looked at me oddly and said in that know-it all middle-schooler tone, "Mom, he said, 'Nice DS!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cackled all the way out of the building, promptly embarrassing the cool middle-schooler with the "nice DS." Maybe time to get my hearing checked??? or take some Spanish lessons!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-5218678922832439729?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/5218678922832439729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/05/language-barrier.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5218678922832439729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5218678922832439729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/05/language-barrier.html' title='Language Barrier'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4853158905132366201</id><published>2010-04-07T15:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T15:38:16.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Middle School Boredom Gone Awry</title><content type='html'>Today: I'm awaiting my son's arrival at my school via carpool so that I can zip over to a meeting on the other side of town. In walks 12 year old. He is complaining to me about a problem at dismissal, a girl keeps trying to take his bookbag. "Wait. What is on your upper lip?" I say. "Oh, he he he. A mustache." "Why do you have a blue Bic mustache?" Twelve year old responds, "I was bored."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I finish listening to his story about the bookbag kidnapper. Then I ask him to please get rid of the mustache because we're headed to a education meeting with people I'd like to keep working for and bringing a 12 year old with a blue mustache might not be the best career-advancing move for me. Luckily the mustache did wash off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was amused how little the mustache bothered the twelve year old. How strange that an age when most are uber self concious, my son bravely models a blue mustache! I only regret that I was in such a rush to get to the meeting that I didn't take a picture. :-( Would have been great for the "rehearsal dinner photo montage" when/if someday he gets married!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4853158905132366201?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4853158905132366201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/04/middle-school-boredom-gone-awry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4853158905132366201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4853158905132366201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/04/middle-school-boredom-gone-awry.html' title='Middle School Boredom Gone Awry'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-8470037456748998694</id><published>2010-02-21T16:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T16:13:04.961-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SNL'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Night at the Roxbury'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='third graders'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teaching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='head bobbing'/><title type='text'>Third Grade Night at the Roxbury</title><content type='html'>So I'm teaching a lesson in Social Studies up at the board. I finish writing on the board and turn around to see one student in the front of the classroom bobbing his head to a silent beat only beknownst to him. "How odd," I think. I continue my lesson and write something else on the board. A minute later I look back at the class and now there are three students bobbing their heads to the same silent beat. All of a sudden I have a vision of the "Night at the Roxbury" SNL skit. Never mind that these are third graders who are doing the head bobbing and most likely have never seen that skit nor have probably heard of SNL since it's not on Nickelodeon. Here's a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpwK3vFGJp0"&gt;link &lt;/a&gt;if you need to refresh your memory of SNL days gone by.  Needless to say it was hard for me to give those 3 students the evil teacher eye to stop the head bobbing. After class my student teacher and I were able to laugh hysterically about it. Luckily she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had &lt;/span&gt;seen the SNL skit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-8470037456748998694?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/8470037456748998694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/02/third-grade-night-at-roxbury.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8470037456748998694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8470037456748998694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2010/02/third-grade-night-at-roxbury.html' title='Third Grade Night at the Roxbury'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-3543646266782013342</id><published>2009-12-20T15:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T15:48:57.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Many Uses of Ziplock</title><content type='html'>My 12 year old son returned today from a boy scout camping trip in the frigid cold of the northern outreaches of our state. He came back with almost all of the stuff we sent him off with, and didn't get in trouble, so we decided it was a successful trip. Plus they'll get a polar bear patch because it got below freezing - snowed even. The humor lies (luckily for a change) in the tale of my son's pal. To protect his identity, as I'm sure his parents will appreciate I'll call him "Jay." In the middle of the night last night my son and Jay who were sharing a tent swear they heard either a cougar or bear rubbing up against their tent. (Gee, now maybe they'll take heed when told to not keep any food in their tent!) Poor Jay found himself in the predicament of needing to go to the bathroom and yet too scared to go outside of the tent per the bear or cougar roaming around. So, being the resourceful scout that he is he made quick use of a ziplock bag. The punchline is that he toted the bag full of pee back home with him in his pack - a four hour drive. The expression was priceless in seeing his dad's face when Jay told him that he'd toted the pee back in his pack. My husband and I just grinned, glad that for once the parental groaning was from someone other than us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-3543646266782013342?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/3543646266782013342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/12/many-uses-of-ziplock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3543646266782013342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3543646266782013342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/12/many-uses-of-ziplock.html' title='The Many Uses of Ziplock'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4576908377527321433</id><published>2009-09-09T20:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T20:11:21.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh How Cute</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SqhtTcPFPcI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XyKxjf78tzs/s1600-h/sept.+2009+096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SqhtTcPFPcI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XyKxjf78tzs/s320/sept.+2009+096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379669935658450370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh, how I cute I thought. They're having a "Wee Day" at the pub! Kids eat free or Irish entertainment for munchkins, etc. Or perhaps someone meant "Wii." This was exactly what I thought when I glanced at this sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only as I walked around the corner and saw a correct sign did I realize I must spend too much time around kids to not realize what the sign was trying to say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/Sqht3c-5kbI/AAAAAAAAAFE/r19r27WcjvQ/s1600-h/sept.+2009+095.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/Sqht3c-5kbI/AAAAAAAAAFE/r19r27WcjvQ/s320/sept.+2009+095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379670554334302642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Gee, I miss grown-ups.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4576908377527321433?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4576908377527321433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/09/oh-how-cute.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4576908377527321433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4576908377527321433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/09/oh-how-cute.html' title='Oh How Cute'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SqhtTcPFPcI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XyKxjf78tzs/s72-c/sept.+2009+096.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-5292800953936072705</id><published>2009-06-13T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T19:40:43.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Squeaky Clean</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SjRh39ojbXI/AAAAAAAAAE0/wXqmCkwtFyk/s1600-h/soap.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 189px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SjRh39ojbXI/AAAAAAAAAE0/wXqmCkwtFyk/s400/soap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347006271660977522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, like most elementary school teachers, keep a junk drawer (and cabinet) where all the odds and ends I take away from students throughout the year are kept. Items are babysat in the aforementioned locations either until the end of the class, day or sometimes until the last day of school. But like most kids, and teachers, a number of items get forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son was cleaning out one such junk drawer for me after the end of the school year. He organized items I actually wanted to keep in the drawer like pens and sticky notes. He also came across the random stretchy bracelet, matchbox car or gum ball machine jewelry and asked me what he should do with it. Of course it all went in the trash. One item was more random than the preceding ones however. He pulled out a nice, clean, seemingly unused, bar of soap. Not a little tiny one that you steal from a hotel, but a large, regular size bar. I had totally forgotten about that bar of soap. And no, despite what you're thinking, it was not used for washing mouths out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember one of my students holding a bar of soap during class activities. I remember asking her about it. She said it was from home. She'd been cleaning her bathroom at home and just slipped it into her pocket and forgot about it. Yep, that's what I do when I'm cleaning in the bathroom, just put any items I have to clean under in my pocket! Not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her to put it away and take it back home. However, the soap kept reappearing at different times, days and locations in the classroom. Pet soap maybe? Maybe there's a marketing niche there? Who knows. I kept the soap. It was such an odd item to see a student with after so many toys, jewelry, gel pens, etc. etc.  Just thought I'd share...&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/BBY/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/BBY/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-5292800953936072705?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/5292800953936072705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/06/squeaky-clean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5292800953936072705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5292800953936072705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/06/squeaky-clean.html' title='Squeaky Clean'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SjRh39ojbXI/AAAAAAAAAE0/wXqmCkwtFyk/s72-c/soap.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-5739996784250143348</id><published>2009-06-11T16:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T16:24:33.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Proofreading is Invaluable</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SjGSJzmAE_I/AAAAAAAAAEs/A9GoeyKIcsI/s1600-h/chinese+menu.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SjGSJzmAE_I/AAAAAAAAAEs/A9GoeyKIcsI/s400/chinese+menu.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346214929831564274" 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/3833449427275537266-5739996784250143348?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/5739996784250143348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/06/proofreading-is-invaluable.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5739996784250143348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5739996784250143348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/06/proofreading-is-invaluable.html' title='Proofreading is Invaluable'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SjGSJzmAE_I/AAAAAAAAAEs/A9GoeyKIcsI/s72-c/chinese+menu.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-8701796809191620331</id><published>2009-05-24T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T10:50:29.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Life Philosophy</title><content type='html'>So, the town where I live is a great boon for finding interesting signage as a form of entertainment. Yesterday, I came across "Accept Foo" painted on the side of a local convenience store. (The name of the store is fodder for a later post...stay tuned!) Obviously "food stamps" was what the painter's goal was. But, for some reason paint, money, or time ran out before the completed thought came to "f00"-ition. But that's good for those of us looking for local laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also think that "accept foo" makes a great life motto, in addition to its humor quotient. If I could only accept everything around me as it is at that moment, life would be much less stressful. No worries. It'd be great. So, for a teacher now looking at a lovely, free summer, I think this will be a good mantra to keep in mind. It'll give me time to practice it before the students return all too soon! :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-8701796809191620331?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/8701796809191620331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-life-philosophy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8701796809191620331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8701796809191620331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-life-philosophy.html' title='New Life Philosophy'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4133503215368798528</id><published>2009-04-24T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T15:25:19.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a Slave to Fashion</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;. So I was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;leetle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; beet&lt;/span&gt; tired. I'd stayed up until 11:30 last night completing insanely detailed lesson plans for my sub for the week. I worked on the plans for about, oh, 7 hours give or take an hour. We're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;talkin&lt;/span&gt;' detailed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. (Symptom of tiredness). Today I was happy to wear comfy jeans to work. (Yeah!) Got dressed in a jiff and ready to go. Out the door we went. Morning went great, kids worked hard, blah, blah, blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, then at recess, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;gradelevel&lt;/span&gt; bud just happens to take note of my Friday footwear and casually says, "Why are you wearing two different shoes?" Luckily I was able to stay on the bench I was seated on while I laughed so hard I nearly had tears running down my face. I hadn't realized what a fashion &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;faux&lt;/span&gt;pas I'd made until that moment. Now, to give myself some credit, both shoes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were &lt;/span&gt;sneakers. Both shoes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were &lt;/span&gt;white. But to look at them from above it's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;noticeable&lt;/span&gt; how different they look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy did I need that laugh big-time. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;gradelevel&lt;/span&gt; bud was truly curious about my shoe choice and admitted that she thought maybe I'd done it on purpose to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;accommodate&lt;/span&gt; an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;orthotic&lt;/span&gt; insert or something. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;! It is my 16th year teaching, but gimme a break! That, to me, made my goof even funnier. Only after that did one of my students note the different shoes. I just had to take it in stride, haha! and laugh with them. I'm glad I afforded those around me with a moment of amusement. I count today as a success! Just tryin' to keep everyone on their toes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4133503215368798528?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4133503215368798528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-slave-to-fashion.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4133503215368798528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4133503215368798528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-slave-to-fashion.html' title='Not a Slave to Fashion'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6800237528982073452</id><published>2009-04-17T14:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T14:40:47.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"To sleep, perchance to dream- ay, there's the rub." - Hamlet</title><content type='html'>Being in community theater is a wonderful thing. You meet new people, you test yourself on your ability to remember all of your lines and perform them consistently each night of the show. I enjoyed it. There was a point, however, in which exhaustion took over. A week of getting up at quarter til 6 for work, doing work all day, then quickly eating something and heading to call at 7 pm was beginning to take its toll. The show finished up each night around 11 pm. Then there's that high one is riding after a show which takes an hour or so to settle down enough from to go to sleep. So exhaustion took over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only realized this after waking up one morning not hunting for my glasses before I got out of bed. In fact, I had awoken a time or two during the night to let the cat and/or dog out and ne're gave it a thought that I hadn't grabbed my glasses. It wasn't until I was showered, dressed, and putting on makeup did I realize that I was in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very &lt;/span&gt;clear focus. No taking off the specs to put on eye makeup. Hmmmm... that's the moment that I realized I'd slept in my contacts. Sheesh! Luckily the contacts I sometimes wear are the kind that can be worn overnight...my dry eyes just never have been able to wear them overnight. In 23+ years of wearing contacts I'd never slept in them! I was disappointed that the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hand of God&lt;/span&gt;, or the Sound of Music for that matter, hadn't touched me in the night and healed my nearsightedness. Ah well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The punchline on the tiredness occurred the next night when I was onstage talking to Maria. Instead of delivering the line about the "Von Trapp" family, my body musta really been a-needin' some caffeine, I told Maria all about the "Von Frapp" family! Musta been a subconscious message that I needed a Frappucino and fast!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6800237528982073452?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6800237528982073452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/04/being-in-community-theater-is-wonderful.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6800237528982073452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6800237528982073452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/04/being-in-community-theater-is-wonderful.html' title='&quot;To sleep, perchance to dream- ay, there&apos;s the rub.&quot; - Hamlet'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4793914331148137246</id><published>2009-03-24T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T14:19:35.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nazi Lions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SclON2K-5HI/AAAAAAAAAEU/juQTAHppKCM/s1600-h/j0437233.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SclON2K-5HI/AAAAAAAAAEU/juQTAHppKCM/s200/j0437233.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316866834874426482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The local cherry blossom festival was great. We roamed around all afternoon Saturday eating fair food, watching our son play ride kiddie rides, ran into local and not so local folks we hadn't seen in eons. It was great! Beautiful weather too. What more could you ask for? Well, how about sea lions!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen the oreo-eating racing pigs and the tigers that are sometimes at local fairs, but sea lions? Come on! But there were really sea lions - the small, small, baby ones (seal-size in case you were wondering). They travel in a tank of water enclosed in a trailer truck thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we trudged over to the sea lion area for the show. Of course this was not Sea World, so no amphitheater. There were bleachers. Being somewhat vertically challenged however, the three of us were only able to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hear &lt;/span&gt;the sea lion show. Whoop-dee-do. Somehow something is lost when one cannot actually view the show. Then my son got the brilliant idea to sit on his dad's shoulders to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;see &lt;/span&gt;the show. So he got to actually see the show, the lucky guy. So my husband and I continued to just listen. Ah well. Once it was over I asked my son what he thought about the show. He said it was great! Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I was telling a friend about this show that was not for short people and called it a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not-see&lt;/span&gt; lion show. Her mind was in a different place however and what she heard was that it was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nazi &lt;/span&gt;lion show. So we both, well no just me really now that I think about it, had a good hearty gaffaw over that one. So beware your homophones! or words that are sorta kinda like homophones! That is if you know what a homophone is! I know there are some of you out there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4793914331148137246?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4793914331148137246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/nazi-lions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4793914331148137246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4793914331148137246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/nazi-lions.html' title='Nazi Lions'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SclON2K-5HI/AAAAAAAAAEU/juQTAHppKCM/s72-c/j0437233.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-1099216181267247495</id><published>2009-03-19T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T20:44:58.904-07:00</updated><title type='text'>U2 sings.."But I Still...Haven't Found...What I'm Lookin' For..."</title><content type='html'>Ok. So I admit perhaps I've been burning the candle at both ends lately. Work, rehearsals, sleep occasionally, even surviving picture day at work. Today this fact was brought to the forefront. It was time to leave work for the day. It had been a rough day, picture day. Teachers, you know what I'm talking about. If you're not a teacher, ignorance is bliss, shall we say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I called my husband on my cell phone to see how his day was and relay how fun mine had been. While we talked I got together my stuff to take home, one item of which was my purse. I kept chatting while I checked the outside pocket and then frantically the inside pockets of my purse for my car key (found it), and my phone. I couldn't find my phone! Suddenly, my side of the conversation paused for dramatic effect when I realized I really had lost my phone. Then, (finally), my brain synapses refired and I laughed hysterically as I realized the missing phone was being held to my ear, by my hand and being talked into. Kinda like when one goes looking about for one's sunglasses, only to find them located comfortably on top of one's head! Oh man, what a day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-1099216181267247495?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/1099216181267247495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/u2-singsbut-i-stillhavent-foundwhat-im.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1099216181267247495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1099216181267247495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/u2-singsbut-i-stillhavent-foundwhat-im.html' title='U2 sings..&quot;But I Still...Haven&apos;t Found...What I&apos;m Lookin&apos; For...&quot;'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4936507347815167947</id><published>2009-03-12T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T15:31:08.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come on Baby Light my Fire...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/Sbrd86B7UkI/AAAAAAAAAEM/fUZ_weKwgVI/s1600-h/j0409248.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/Sbrd86B7UkI/AAAAAAAAAEM/fUZ_weKwgVI/s200/j0409248.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312802748876149314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nothing like a little fire and flammable objects to enliven a church service! My darling son was an acolyte last weekend. However, the decorating committee didn't seem to take a few things into account. My son and the other acolyte are short. Short as in can't see the tops of the candles to know whether they've been lit or extinguished. Short as in barely taller than the altar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The decorating committee also didn't think about the decorations they chose in context. There were 7 fat, lit pillar candles once the acolytes got some assistance lighting the candles they couldn't see. The decorations were beautiful, loopy, bundles of kindling! Yikes!!!!!! All of the sticks/vines curved up very near the flames! What were they thinking???? What were they doing???? Playing with fire????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, no fire occurred during the service thankfully, but I know the four acolyte parents and the congregation members who were paying attention were on the edge of their seats during the acolyte action. The extinguishing of the flames was a bit tricky. The two acolytes were finally able to get all of them out except one whose wax had melted in such a convoluted way that the flame couldn't be seen at all. The two acolytes were still deliberating (motioning back and forth in front of the altar about who should do what and how) and trying to get that last flame out even after the pastor and assistant pastor had processed back down the aisle and the choir was finished with the benediction. Finally, (thank God),  the choir director came to their rescue extinguishing the remaining flame and they were able to quickly zip down the aisle. We were so thankful our son was able to supply the congregation with such suspense! Stephen King watch out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4936507347815167947?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4936507347815167947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/come-on-baby-light-my-fire.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4936507347815167947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4936507347815167947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/come-on-baby-light-my-fire.html' title='Come on Baby Light my Fire...'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/Sbrd86B7UkI/AAAAAAAAAEM/fUZ_weKwgVI/s72-c/j0409248.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4255459663450223229</id><published>2009-03-09T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T19:28:37.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids These Days</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SbXPnt0wJBI/AAAAAAAAAEE/OisVb4nldy4/s1600-h/j0177893.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SbXPnt0wJBI/AAAAAAAAAEE/OisVb4nldy4/s200/j0177893.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311379616776070162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love my school's live TV news broadcast. It is very cute and is well done for elementary students. I got tickled the other day when some students were interviewed by a student news anchor about an amazing dance program that was brought to our school. The interviewer asked a young girl, "What did you like best about the program?" to which the student being interviewed pensively replied, "It was casual."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it _was_ true. The performers wore jeans and untucked shirts. But of all the adjectives that could have possibly been supplied to answer that question... dynamic, rhythmic, amazing, fantastic, fun, etc., "casual" was quite unexpected. My class however had no idea why their teacher was guffawing at that response. So is it just me? Or are there others out there in the blogosphere who find "casual" equally amusing as a response. Just curious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4255459663450223229?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4255459663450223229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/kids-these-days.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4255459663450223229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4255459663450223229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/kids-these-days.html' title='Kids These Days'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SbXPnt0wJBI/AAAAAAAAAEE/OisVb4nldy4/s72-c/j0177893.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6500262992728479176</id><published>2009-03-08T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T14:06:08.592-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='allergies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prayer'/><title type='text'>It'snot  supplication...</title><content type='html'>I began to sniffle. I could hear my husband sniffling. Then I heard people behind me sniffling too. Was the pastor's sermon that much more poignant and emotional this Sunday? Why were so many people choked up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, truth be told, it had nothing to do with the content of the minister's sermon, which was very good actually. It all had to do with the number of times &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before &lt;/span&gt;the sermon that the congregation had been asked to bow their heads in prayer. Prayer: a time of thought and communication with one's higher power. ALSO, a time when sinuses already aggravated by the coming onslaught of pollen begin to flow freely. Maybe during pollen season the pastor could direct us to pray facing upwards toward the heavens. Either that or supply plenty of Puffs on each pew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6500262992728479176?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6500262992728479176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/itsnot-supplication.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6500262992728479176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6500262992728479176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/itsnot-supplication.html' title='It&apos;snot  supplication...'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-8110734166377971262</id><published>2009-03-07T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T09:38:07.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Move 'Em Out, Rawhide!</title><content type='html'>"Mom, could you come help me with something please," my son told me while I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;perusing&lt;/span&gt; the birthday cards at a local drug store the other day. I'd broken one of the parenting rules that gets harder the older your children get, letting him get out of my sight. So I said, "sure," &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;all the while&lt;/span&gt; thinking that he must have broken something. In his favor though, I hadn't heard a large crash in the last few minutes. He lead me to the bounce ball display. You know, those plastic bounce balls that every kid has at least one of at every house they go to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the display had enticed my son, who likes to take them out one by one and then throw them back in the top of the cage that is their home. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Unfortunately,&lt;/span&gt; there must have been a mutiny on hand and about ten of the bounce balls had made a run for it, breaking the front of the display cage in the meantime.  My son and I wrestled the remaining ones for enough room to reattach the front "gate" of the cage. Luckily the few escapees hadn't traveled far and were easy to capture and return to their quarantine. I did find it amusing that on almost all of the remaining aisles that we walked up and down as we finished our shopping, there was at least one convict bounce ball. At least my son allowed them a brief sense of freedom. Somehow reminded me of the short journey into the real world from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One Flew Over the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cuckoo's&lt;/span&gt; Nest&lt;/span&gt;, or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Awakenings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-8110734166377971262?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/8110734166377971262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/move-em-out-rawhide.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8110734166377971262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8110734166377971262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/move-em-out-rawhide.html' title='Move &apos;Em Out, Rawhide!'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-583604170686727809</id><published>2009-03-04T14:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T15:37:12.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Say What You Mean to Say</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SbKyxgAX_fI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wjisiUi9DKM/s1600-h/window.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SbKyxgAX_fI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wjisiUi9DKM/s200/window.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310503474098077170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The other day this memory from my student teaching days came back to me. I was teaching a kindergarten music class with the students all sitting in their lines of chairs as my mentor teacher had them arranged. The entire back wall of the classroom was windows. Sometimes it was tough for these little guys to not be tempted to look out the window to see other students playing outside etc. One day, as I was still getting my teaching "sea legs," I noticed more and more students turned around backwards looking out the window. Of course I didn't have all the names memorized yet and ended up saying in frustration, "Everyone, turn around now!" Well, concrete thinkers that they are, every single kinder turned backwards to look out the window. Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-583604170686727809?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/583604170686727809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/say-what-you-mean-to-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/583604170686727809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/583604170686727809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/say-what-you-mean-to-say.html' title='Say What You Mean to Say'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SbKyxgAX_fI/AAAAAAAAADQ/wjisiUi9DKM/s72-c/window.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-4341687682742102837</id><published>2009-03-01T19:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T19:17:33.940-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spelling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literacy'/><title type='text'>Honey, Maybe We Should Skip This School Event</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://failblog.org/2009/02/26/literacy-fail-2/"&gt;&lt;img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-13402" title="fail-owned-literacy-fail" src="http://failblog.wordpress.com/files/2009/02/fail-owned-literacy-fail.jpg" alt="fail owned pwned pictures" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in this instance it's not the thought but the spelling that counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;(see more &lt;a href="http://failblog.org/"&gt;pwn and owned pictures)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-4341687682742102837?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/4341687682742102837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/see-more-pwn-and-owned-pictures.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4341687682742102837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/4341687682742102837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/03/see-more-pwn-and-owned-pictures.html' title='Honey, Maybe We Should Skip This School Event'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-2324286925018224462</id><published>2009-02-26T18:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T19:56:02.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Casting Croutons</title><content type='html'>Imagine croutons as the important, who's who names that people often toss about. These people often believe it's "who you know," rather than "what you know," that gets you in the door or keeps you in the game. I guess they are the proprietors of cronyism basically. I find humor in people like this, especially when over the course of time the listener realizes that it's the same four or five names that that person keeps bandying about. Also, the names are ones that the crouton-tosser rarely knows in depth, has read extensively, or understands etc. The problem with this is that they continue to sound impressive to most people they meet because of the name tossing. It's only those of us who are around these folks more often that realize what their game is. Have you ever run into anyone like this? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy croutons as much as the next person, but a salad made solely of croutons lacks, shall we say, fiber? substance? Croutons should be a compliment to the salad, working in tandem with the other ingredients, not the sole flavor. Croutons have a tough time masking the lack of other ingredients.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-2324286925018224462?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/2324286925018224462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/casting-croutons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/2324286925018224462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/2324286925018224462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/casting-croutons.html' title='Casting Croutons'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-5064748434027849612</id><published>2009-02-24T15:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T13:46:50.724-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Just Sayin'...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaSDydGlobI/AAAAAAAAABc/t9M7VEx8JdI/s1600-h/0224091750.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaSDydGlobI/AAAAAAAAABc/t9M7VEx8JdI/s400/0224091750.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306511163778245042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Let's philosophically ponder this photo...&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there is plenty of documentation out there in marketing classes and whatnot about how grocery stores set up their displays. How they decide what category of food to place next to another. Here's &lt;a href="http://www.bankrate.com/brm/news/advice/19990402c.asp"&gt;one&lt;/a&gt;. And &lt;a href="http://www.speroforum.com/site/article.asp?id=3171"&gt;another&lt;/a&gt;. And &lt;a href="http://www.getrichslowly.org/blog/2006/06/28/ten-things-your-supermarket-wont-tell-you/"&gt;this one&lt;/a&gt;, read item #9. Just seems like if you're trying to make healthy choices that this is just one more strike against you.&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/3833449427275537266-5064748434027849612?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/5064748434027849612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-just-saying.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5064748434027849612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5064748434027849612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-just-saying.html' title='I&apos;m Just Sayin&apos;...'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaSDydGlobI/AAAAAAAAABc/t9M7VEx8JdI/s72-c/0224091750.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-5909675499017747346</id><published>2009-02-23T18:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T10:04:12.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Too Shall Pass...</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBBY%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBBY%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"&gt;&lt;link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CBBY%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;Perhaps I’m the only one that thinks like this, but I doubt it. Yesterday I walked into the restroom at a nicely appointed mega bookstore in my city. I was shocked to hear a woman at least my age – 40ish- talking on her cell phone while she was in the stall. This further surprised me because of the woman’s age, although now that I ponder this, all the times I’ve heard someone talking on their cell phone in the restroom it’s been middle-age-ish women. Hmmm… It also surprised me because the stalls were all occupied. No longer does there remain a final bastion of privacy when outside one’s home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After noting my surprise , I had this terrible urge…to make incredibly loud, fantastical gas-passing noises that her phone buddy could hear and then know where exactly she was. I believe most folks who talk on the phone while using the facilities do not fess up to their location. But ya know, it’d be hard to misinterpret some sounds, such as the aforementioned and the sound of a spasmodically flushing toilet. Unfortunately, I had never learned to make quality fart noises via my arm-pit, I suppose that’s because I’m female, and I didn’t really want to startle the woman waiting patiently (and quietly) in line behind me so I refrained.  But some day, SOME day, I just think it would be hysterical to try and see what ….comes to pass.  Not surprisingly, there’s a bunch about this topic out on the web. Here’s one…   &lt;a href="http://www.snopes.com/embarrass/mistaken/stall.asp"&gt;http://www.snopes.com/embarrass/mistaken/stall.asp        &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-5909675499017747346?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/5909675499017747346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-too-shall-pass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5909675499017747346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/5909675499017747346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-too-shall-pass.html' title='This Too Shall Pass...'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6362156865391015887</id><published>2009-02-22T07:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T08:00:35.441-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Virtuous Vegetables</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaF0LOfea4I/AAAAAAAAABE/e5QT34arTR8/s1600-h/0221091725.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaF0LOfea4I/AAAAAAAAABE/e5QT34arTR8/s320/0221091725.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305649572236651394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. "Morel Mushrooms." Now I've seen it all - "Moral" mushrooms of course would have a much higher price than just regular, mere &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;average &lt;/span&gt;mushrooms. Now we know the sale bin in the produce section would be comprised of the "immoral" 'shrooms. Poor things, their poor choices in life just led them down the wrong road... What's next? Righteous rhubarb? Or courteous croutons? Scrupulous squash? When will it end?????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6362156865391015887?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6362156865391015887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/yep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6362156865391015887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6362156865391015887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/yep.html' title='Virtuous Vegetables'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaF0LOfea4I/AAAAAAAAABE/e5QT34arTR8/s72-c/0221091725.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-1442978725238264482</id><published>2009-02-21T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T18:20:07.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some of the Most Frightening Words to Hear as a Parent...</title><content type='html'>"Guess what I just found in the bathroom??????"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son said this as he returned to the dinner table tonight. My husband and I looked at each other with a fair amount of unabashed fear in our eyes. The things that went through my mind had to do with bodily fluid accidents via one of our 3 pets... I'm afraid to ask what my husband's guess was. Luckily, and with a huge sigh of relief, our son answered his own question when he heard none from us. "A cricket!" Whew. And it was even still alive... imagine that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-1442978725238264482?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/1442978725238264482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/some-of-most-frightening-words-to-hear.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1442978725238264482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1442978725238264482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/some-of-most-frightening-words-to-hear.html' title='Some of the Most Frightening Words to Hear as a Parent...'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-3519031712435711329</id><published>2009-02-21T16:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T16:50:40.270-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun at the Book Sale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaChVHKWZjI/AAAAAAAAAA8/eNQNBAsjqdA/s1600-h/0221091439.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 139px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaChVHKWZjI/AAAAAAAAAA8/eNQNBAsjqdA/s320/0221091439.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305417745114228274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I just found this to be really funny as we were somberly purusing the great expanse of tables of books at the local friends of the library book sale today. It makes it seem like the books are children and need looking after. Reminds me of the local pizza place that has a sign that says, "Unattended children will be sold into slavery!" Which I find equally as entertaining since I've never seen them address a child's behavior in the 15 years I've been going there. I guess the sign(s) work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-3519031712435711329?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/3519031712435711329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/fun-at-book-sale.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3519031712435711329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3519031712435711329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/fun-at-book-sale.html' title='Fun at the Book Sale'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaChVHKWZjI/AAAAAAAAAA8/eNQNBAsjqdA/s72-c/0221091439.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-8977527657433899179</id><published>2009-02-18T17:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T17:20:47.918-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Horshack!!!!!</title><content type='html'>I'm sure this phenomenon occurs at &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;home &lt;/span&gt;with children, but I see it only at school, I mean, er, work. Today we read &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Officer Buckle and Gloria&lt;/span&gt; to go along with our lessons on plot. Students had their input here and there in the discussion. I called on one young man who was dying to have his say. So, what earth-shattering pithy substance did he share? Here it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I..."  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mouth twitch&lt;/span&gt; "well..." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blink, blink, blink&lt;/span&gt; "this one time..." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;changes foot he's sitting on&lt;/span&gt; "my dog" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hooks index finger inside collar and pulls to twice his head circumference&lt;/span&gt; "Can..." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;squinching up of lips on one side of mouth&lt;/span&gt; (cricket sound inserted here.) "they really..." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;looks at fellow student who is getting SLIGHTLY impatient &lt;/span&gt;"do flips like that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then me thinking, "Oh, I'm sorry... you had a question? or a story? You lost me during the eye blinks." I think this was when I began to snore and drool..... Class discussion at this rate goes VERY slowly. Luckily it doesn't happen often. Must've been some glitch in his brain wiring at that moment, 'cause Lawd knows! he chatted NON-STOP the remainder of the day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-8977527657433899179?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/8977527657433899179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/horshack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8977527657433899179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/8977527657433899179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/horshack.html' title='Horshack!!!!!'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-1754335434451159847</id><published>2009-02-12T17:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T17:37:13.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things That Make Ya Go Hmmmmm....</title><content type='html'>Today I was stopped in downtown rush hour traffic and was puzzled by what was in front of me. It was a very tricked out motorcycle - with a handicap license plate. Hmmmmm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-1754335434451159847?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/1754335434451159847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-that-make-ya-go-hmmmmm.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1754335434451159847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1754335434451159847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-that-make-ya-go-hmmmmm.html' title='Things That Make Ya Go Hmmmmm....'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-1142641161382679354</id><published>2009-02-11T15:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T16:01:08.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Still-Standin' - Yeah, Yeah, Yeah</title><content type='html'>A fellow teacher said to me today, about a student who appeared to be on another planet when told directions, "You've got to be REALLY still to have the whole world revolve around you." I laughed at this insight at the time, but now I see how deep this really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who "expect" the world to revolve around them are often some of the most stationary people. They often are the ones stuck in the past, or lazy, or un-aware, etc., etc. Those of us who are too insanely busy to be still but for the few lone moments before we pass out on our beds at night, realize the insanity in expecting anyone to revolve around us. We consider ourselves lucky when we don't get a flat driving around and around doing the revolving ourselves. But &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;we &lt;/span&gt;revolve around ideas, not people. We revolve around the ideal that we will be successful, or that we will do everything possible for our loved ones, or that we will do the best we can that day and leave the next day's expectations to fate. So, although I'm thankful for the few moments I get when I can be still, I realize that it's action that "makes the world go 'round," so-to-speak.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-1142641161382679354?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/1142641161382679354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-still-standin-yeah-yeah-yeah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1142641161382679354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1142641161382679354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-still-standin-yeah-yeah-yeah.html' title='I&apos;m Still-Standin&apos; - Yeah, Yeah, Yeah'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-2261646244870739944</id><published>2009-02-09T16:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T16:12:38.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Range</title><content type='html'>All right!!!! I hadn't done any vocalizations with the piano in eons. But, since I was auditioning that evening for a local theater production, I figured I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;oughta&lt;/span&gt;. And wow! I knew that women's voices mature as they age, but wow! a whole step higher in range than in college? How unexpected!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then truth set in, I tried some of the notes on the piano as I listened to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;itunes&lt;/span&gt; accompaniment on the computer. My range hadn't expanded by a whole step after all... my piano was a whole step flat out of tune. Bummer. Ah well. Maybe it's time to tune up the old gal. The piano, that is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-2261646244870739944?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/2261646244870739944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/out-of-range.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/2261646244870739944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/2261646244870739944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/out-of-range.html' title='Out of Range'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-3845880134917632052</id><published>2009-02-06T15:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T15:26:56.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dramatic Restraint</title><content type='html'>Who would have known that one of the most important requirements for teachers would be to be able control insidious laughter from escaping through one's mouth or nostrils while conversing with students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this a formidable challenge today while teaching a science lesson. I was guiding students through a joyful study guide and calling on random students to answer each question when all of a sudden I look up to call on the next random student and what do I see? Black marker caps stuck up a girl's nose! It really looked like black snot. Big, nasty, runny chunks of it. Oh my. Stifling a snort myself I calmly shook my head silently at her which is the universal teacher code for, "Are you freakin' kidding me???????" It was officially declared Friday at that point. I'm just hoping those markers were not from our class stash...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-3845880134917632052?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/3845880134917632052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/dramatic-restraint.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3845880134917632052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/3845880134917632052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/dramatic-restraint.html' title='Dramatic Restraint'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-6431595873244517096</id><published>2009-02-04T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T20:48:39.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Tornado Drill be Your Guide</title><content type='html'>Note to self for next fall when venturing to the mall for new school clothes for child...&lt;br /&gt;Have child assume the &lt;a href="http://mcswa.org/Documents/Tornado%20Brochure.pdf"&gt;official tornado drill position&lt;/a&gt; while trying on aforementioned potential new clothing. If said new clothing exposes more skin of a certain posterior body part while in official tornado position, remind self to NOT purchase said clothing. Shall we say together now parents and teachers alike, "Let's not let another student fall through the cracks!" There. I've said my piece.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3833449427275537266-6431595873244517096?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/6431595873244517096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/let-tornado-drill-be-your-guide.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6431595873244517096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/6431595873244517096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/let-tornado-drill-be-your-guide.html' title='Let the Tornado Drill be Your Guide'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3833449427275537266.post-1890482561194713741</id><published>2009-02-04T20:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T20:11:59.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly Putty Spends the Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This morning my son said, "Mom, come check the silly putty in my bed." Needless to say I asked him to repeat what he'd said. Being intrigued, I ventured into dangerous territory... the bunkbeds. My son pulled back covers to reveal a molten puddle of silver goo stuck securely to his sheets, and pillow cases, and t-shirt that he'd slept in. Before I got hysterical I asked, "How did THIS happen?" He responded matter-of-factly, "I was playing with the silly putty in bed last night and I guess I got sleepy and fell asleep." Hmmmmm. Frankly it looked as if the Silver Surfer had had an accident in the bed. Slowly but surely I was able to stick the silly putty to itself and expunge it from the bedclothes. FYI: silver silly putty does leave behind a stain - thank God for Stain Stick! All's well that sticks together I suppose.&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/3833449427275537266-1890482561194713741?l=wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/feeds/1890482561194713741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/silly-putty-spends-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1890482561194713741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3833449427275537266/posts/default/1890482561194713741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wheresmyeyebrow.blogspot.com/2009/02/silly-putty-spends-night.html' title='Silly Putty Spends the Night'/><author><name>twelveoclockbroccoli</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15910099394394740724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QaU4mex3u5Q/SaykteV8d9I/AAAAAAAAACo/Xy03f904Nho/S220/broccoli.logo.09.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
