<?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-5934546938259319446</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:07:51.110-08:00</updated><category term='Summer'/><category term='overseas'/><category term='Zimbo'/><category term='Marriage'/><category term='Pregnancy'/><category term='soccer'/><category term='spring clean'/><category term='prayer tournament'/><category term='diaspora'/><category term='gold'/><category term='life lessons'/><category term='cleanout'/><category term='game'/><category term='home'/><category term='Days of Our Lives'/><category term='Lindsay Lohan'/><category term='commitment'/><category term='swimming'/><category term='brown help'/><category term='family'/><category term='unite'/><category term='African'/><category term='moving on'/><category term='fun'/><category term='individual'/><category term='decor'/><category term='failure'/><category term='Apology'/><category term='closet'/><category term='park'/><category term='Zimbabwe'/><title type='text'>The Life of a Zimbo Mama</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-6461437337359669065</id><published>2010-10-06T07:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T07:25:14.904-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gold'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving on'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zimbabwe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='brown help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>The move</title><content type='html'>So it has been a few weeks since I announced I was moving.  Since then I have packed up my house on my own, because darling husband is being important Zimbabwe.  I have to admit, that I was a little upset because packing is tough and really should be a joint venture.  But, after all is said and done I remember that marriage is about ....... teamwork right.  It is just hard getting to that frame of mind.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so now my new project is buying furniture in one week to ship back home.  I have picked put colors for most of my rooms and picked out the furniture  and will post my inspirational pictures in my next post.  But right now I need help picking out the color for my master bedroom.  What I would like for my the room is for it to be romantic, cozy, and inviting.  The colors I am thinking of are like a cinnamon color for the walls or brown and gold combination or something that will make me feel like oh I love going to bed and waking up.  So if you have suggestions or pics that could help please post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-6461437337359669065?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/6461437337359669065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/10/move.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/6461437337359669065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/6461437337359669065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/10/move.html' title='The move'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-7634325465857786549</id><published>2010-09-01T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T18:59:03.266-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diaspora'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='overseas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zimbabwe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Back to Zimbabwe it is</title><content type='html'>So it has been a while since my last post, but after my day at work I felt the need to vent.  My husband and I decided it was time for us to move back to Zimbabwe.  There are many factors we considered to reach this decision and at the end of the day we felt home was best.  So yesterday was the day I handed in my resignation.  MMMMMMMMMM I had several people pop by my desk and say oh we are going to miss you, oh we really like you here all the politically correct things to say.  One or two did show up and feel the need to express how disgusted they were with my move or decision.  One guy says to me you want to move your child back there really.  And I wanted to ask what is your view of back "there"?  What do you actually know about back there. Apart from going from Manhattan to Queens have you ever left the state of New York, let alone the country.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today this old man says to me so when do you leave, and said to him with a smile in September.  He proceeded to interrogate me as to why I would want to move back to such a country.  He then decided to school me on how terrible Zimbabwe was.  He asked what if something happened, what if your husband lost his job.  And at the back of my mind I just thought we terrible things happen here as well.  Every other week you hear on the news some guy decided to shoot someone.  In the news you hear of how many people are losing their jobs.  So my point is even in America bad things happen, but sometimes one has to ask the question do I want to have family around during those tough times or just go through challenging times alone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America has been wonderful to me.  I have obtained a wealth of knowledge from this great country, and yet I have never felt like I belonged.  Yes America does not have power cuts, the economy for the most part is stable.  You do not worry about obtaining certain basic products.  But, even with all that it still has never felt like home.  There is more to life than just being able to stroll into a dealership and buy a car you really can't afford.  There is more to life than buying the latest pair of jeans.  Like spending time with your family and sharing a laugh.  More to life than worrying about how many days of paid time you have left.  We spend so many years overseas, work long tiring hours and all for what.  We miss out on moments with our families that we will never be able to obtain again.  No my intention is not to be disrespectful of those of us who are still living in the diaspora.  But my point is to say to each is own, if I have decided to to move back to Zimbabwe don't mock that decision but be happy for me because it is my decision.  And for my American counterparts, just because you see something on the tv don't then think you are a world affairs guru.  There is more world out there where people are living happy and fulfilling lives, even in Zimbabwe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-7634325465857786549?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/7634325465857786549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-zimbabwe-it-is.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/7634325465857786549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/7634325465857786549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-zimbabwe-it-is.html' title='Back to Zimbabwe it is'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-5174633168864205471</id><published>2010-07-07T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T19:06:38.144-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moving on'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lindsay Lohan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='failure'/><title type='text'>Failure</title><content type='html'>So, according to my last post this weekend was the clean-out weekend.  However, I failed to fulfill my task.  It is just so amazing how you never have enough time to complete anything, even when you have an extra day.  So anyway maybe next weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yesterday Lindsay Lohan was sentenced to 90 days people, 90 days in jail.  She has been a girl behaving badly and it really was just a matter of time before her "luck" ran out.  I suppose what makes me mad is the fact that these celebs get so many passes or special treatment as compared to us regular folk.  There should be no discrimination when it comes to how the law is applied.  At the end of the day I hope that Lindsay learns her lesson and will take the 90 days to reflect, do some soul searching and hopefully become a better person for herself.  (I have no idea how to add a video, sorry guys)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/celebrity.news.gossip/07/06/lindsay.lohan.court/index.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-5174633168864205471?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/5174633168864205471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/07/failure.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/5174633168864205471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/5174633168864205471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/07/failure.html' title='Failure'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-2650228169084792527</id><published>2010-07-02T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T09:20:48.775-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='African'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soccer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prayer tournament'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unite'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><title type='text'>World Cup - Go Africa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://footyfootball.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/ghana-soccer-fans.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 399px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://footyfootball.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/ghana-soccer-fans.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the Brazil is headed home, and the Netherlands is in. I am shocked because everyone assumed that Brazil would do well this world cup. Brazil's departure has just made me believe that maybe, just maybe the "national" African team, Ghana might have a chance. I mean how precious would it be if an African team, was not only in the final, but possibly &lt;strong&gt;WON&lt;/strong&gt; the world cup in Africa. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mybestfriendslittlesister.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sisi&lt;/a&gt;, was telling me of the twitter prayer warriors who were praying for Bafana Bafana, and recently for Ghana in their last game and I was a little iffy about that. Not because I do not believe in the power of prayer, I just have always thought performance should be based on talent. But, after watching the game with an ignorant workmate, I think I will call on all help, so we show the rest of the world that we are not only capable of hosting a world class tournament, but we are also talented. So today I say a prayer for our Ghanaian brothers and for those of you who are believers please take a moment to say a prayer for Ghana.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;GO GO our African Warriors - GHANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, our thoughts and prayers are really with you we are so proud of you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-2650228169084792527?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/2650228169084792527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/07/world-cup-go-africa.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/2650228169084792527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/2650228169084792527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/07/world-cup-go-africa.html' title='World Cup - Go Africa'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-2866805986317924811</id><published>2010-06-30T18:20:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T19:28:02.678-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='closet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring clean'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleanout'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer'/><title type='text'>Cleanout</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/9368046/2/istockphoto_9368046-cleaning-lady.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 343px;" src="http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/9368046/2/istockphoto_9368046-cleaning-lady.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past year I have managed to accumulate a lot of junk.  Which is really terrible, because I hate clutter.  I have developed this awful I don't care attitude.  There are many reasons for my shift in my attitude, one being living with extended family, that does not share the same desire for order as you.  And always telling people to please pick up after themself or coming home to a house that is in disarry, eventually you just say if you can't beat them join them.  My &lt;a href="http://mybestfriendslittlesister.blogspot.com/"&gt;sister&lt;/a&gt; came to visit over Christmas, and knowing my love for order, she said as only as sister can, "Sisi you have really let your home home go."   And don't get me wrong my house is not dirty, but just a little disorganized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with that in mind I have decided that one of my summer projects is to clean out my house of all unecessary stuff, my first project will be cleaning out my closet.  Now this is somewhat of a difficult task, because I love holding onto stuff for sentimental reasons.  For instance&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt; Sisi&lt;/span&gt; put her sweat into making me lovely pants and top in her fashion and fabrics class.  Now the top I have worn once, it was a little snug but it fit.  However, the pants even at my smallest size, I would never manage to put them on.  Then there is the shirt that daddy gave me when I was 16, which still fits because it was baggy, but I do not wear now because it is a little outdated.  But, I hold onto it cause it is from daddy.  Do I donate that or do I keep it?  Oprah says that if you have not worn it in a year then get rid of it.  But, then I say my closet would look empty.  I don't know what I am going to do or what my cutoff policy will be.  But, if anyone has any suggestions please share your wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this weekend I will work on organizing my closet, I will post the before and after pictures hopefully there will be a noticeable difference.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-2866805986317924811?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/2866805986317924811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/06/cleanout.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/2866805986317924811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/2866805986317924811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/06/cleanout.html' title='Cleanout'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-1292581886356256244</id><published>2010-06-19T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T19:15:40.790-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swimming'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Summer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='park'/><title type='text'>Baby Girl and Mama's Summer!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So Baby Girl turns the ONE next month, one people.  Where has the time gone.  In the past year, I have been amazed with her "evolution".  I think back to when I found out I was pregnant and to the day she was born.  Each one of those events changed me for the better.  But, the greatest privilege though has been watching her grow into a cheerful and lovable little girl. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though motherhood has been challenging at times from trying to juggle work, being a wife and spending enough time with Baby Girl.  There are times when it would just be easier to come home and just plonk myself on the couch after work and watch show after show, and not even spend quality time with my daughter. But I have come to realize that in the hussle and bussle of life it is really important for me to make time for myself, for my husband and Baby Girl or life would just pass me by.  So in the spirit of living a fully life I have decided that this summer would be filled with lots of activities.  So here is Baby Girl and and my &lt;b&gt;summer bucket list&lt;/b&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1.  Take up swimming lessons&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My hope is when we move back to Zimbabwe, Baby Girl will not be one of those kids who always has to swim in to shallow end because she cannot swim.  Growing up it was so rare to find a black child who knew how to swim.  Many of us used the oh my hair will get wet excuse, when really none of us knew how to swim. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2.  Go to a petting zoo&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Black Zimbabwean town children are taught from a very young age to FEAR animals.  And I mean really fear, as in if your dog approaches me I will probably kick it. So when we went to visit my sister in law and her dog came racing my instinct was to pick Baby Girl up so that dog would not have any contact with Baby Girl.  But much to my surprise, Baby got down and headed straight for the dog.  Touching the the dog's nose, it's eyes and at one point laughing when the dog was licking her face.  It was at that point that I realized it would be unfair for me to pass my fears onto my daughter, and hence we are headed to the petting zoo this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3.  Kids Science Museum&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is really no back story to this choice of activity.  I would just like us to get into the routine of doing educational activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4.  Go to the beach&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate the sun and really would prefer to always walk under the shade.  But the beach is such a wonderful family outing and would be a wonderful bonding experience for our little three man family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;5.  Have a picnic in Central Park.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://webpub.allegheny.edu/group/psichi/weblog/Picnic2008.gif"&gt;&lt;img src="http://webpub.allegheny.edu/group/psichi/weblog/Picnic2008.gif" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 425px; height: 356px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://webpub.allegheny.edu/group/psichi/weblog/Picnic2008.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is still a work in progress, and as more things come to mind I will update the list.  Also, if any of you have any suggestions of activities that you think would be fun, please let me know.  And I will keep you posted on our summer adventures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-1292581886356256244?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/1292581886356256244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/06/baby-girl-and-mamas-summer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/1292581886356256244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/1292581886356256244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/06/baby-girl-and-mamas-summer.html' title='Baby Girl and Mama&apos;s Summer!!!!'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-3821960543249348167</id><published>2010-05-25T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T18:43:02.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now that I know better, I do better.</title><content type='html'>Hello folks, I just need to vent a bit.  So darling husband started a business a few months ago and has been traveling like crazy.  I really have been trying to be supportive, because I want him do what makes him happy.  However, his being away so much is really tough.  Not just because looking after the baby by myself is stressful, but also when I was growing up my father traveled a lot and I had hoped it would be different for my daughter.  I suppose only time will tell.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any event, winter is gone and summer is here.  So tomorrow baby girl will be going for her first swim.  I am so excited.  Will let you know how things go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well friends have a wonderful weekend and those with good weather enjoy it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-3821960543249348167?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/3821960543249348167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/05/now-that-i-know-better-i-do-better.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/3821960543249348167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/3821960543249348167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/05/now-that-i-know-better-i-do-better.html' title='Now that I know better, I do better.'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-6742342733545410890</id><published>2010-05-21T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T20:42:04.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am back I hope</title><content type='html'>I have really neglected my blog.  Since my last post so much has happened.  For one the weather is finally warming up.  I absolutely, absolutely hate winter and this winter just seemed to be the worst winter.  We had a foot or more of snow in one day, I mean really.  But, the summer is coming so I am over the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I think the greatest change or changes have been with my precious, precious daughter.  She is now ten months and where has the time gone.  Over the past ten months I have watched her develop into a little person.  I have watched her learn how to sit, crawl and now she is learning to walk.  Baby girl has brought so much joy into my life.  There are days when I just think of what a blessing she is in my life and how I got the privilege of becoming her mother.  Her smile melts my heart.  Sometimes I just sit and watch her sleep, how corny right.  Being a mother is really the best gift I could have received.  My hope, is to be the best mother she needs or would ever wish for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-6742342733545410890?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/6742342733545410890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-back-i-hope.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/6742342733545410890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/6742342733545410890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-back-i-hope.html' title='I am back I hope'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-1283083451125332038</id><published>2010-03-21T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T10:25:53.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Best Friend Molly</title><content type='html'>For past few weeks I have really negelected my blog. My hope at the start of the new year, was to atleast write one blog a week, but I have failed to keep up. Life got the best of me between working 6 days a week because this is "busy season" for the accounting firms, balancing being a wife and above all a "good" mother my blogging has suffered. As a way to cope I have turned to my most trusted friend. She has been there for me through the years, and thought how nice it would be to dedicate this particular blog to my best friend Molly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molly has been there for me through good and bad, the highs and the lows. I have probably known her since I was born. My mom was the first one who introduced us and from that point on we have been inseparable. Molly has the ability to change or adjust to mood I am in. At my lowest points she is probably the only thing I can turn to and know for sure she will accept me the way I am. She is extremely versitile and has the ability to blend and bring people together. The one of many charachteristics I have always admired about Molly. One word I would use to describe Molly is AMAZING and I look foward to us growing old together. So let me introduce you to some of the pictures I love of Molly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Molly in Thailand - Chicken Pad See Ew:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bunrab.com/dailyfeed/dailyfeed_images_feb-06/daily_feb23_2006_ew.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 485px; HEIGHT: 349px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.bunrab.com/dailyfeed/dailyfeed_images_feb-06/daily_feb23_2006_ew.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ingredients&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•1 tablespoon sugar&lt;br /&gt;•1/2 cup pork, thinly sliced (shimp, beef and chicken can be use if desire)&lt;br /&gt;•2 tablespoons light soy sauce&lt;br /&gt;•2 cloves garlic, chopped&lt;br /&gt;•1 lb fresh flat white rice noodles&lt;br /&gt;•1 egg&lt;br /&gt;•1 tablespoon dark soy sauce&lt;br /&gt;•1 lb Chinese broccoli&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Molly is known by many in Jamica and this is how she blends in:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/S6ZJHWUSdzI/AAAAAAAAI78/ecPqaXvXKOk/s1600-h/Jamican+stew.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 513px; HEIGHT: 282px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451124789577152306" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/S6ZJHWUSdzI/AAAAAAAAI78/ecPqaXvXKOk/s320/Jamican+stew.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Molly at her best Jamaican stlye. When she dressed up like this I love to have her with rice or sadza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INGREDENTS:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 oxtail about 2-2.5 lb. Cut up&lt;br /&gt;4 tblsp. cornflour&lt;br /&gt;2 tblsp. cooking oil&lt;br /&gt;Salt and Black pepper&lt;br /&gt;4 rashers (slices) Bacon (Sugar cured, rindless)&lt;br /&gt;2 medium onions sliced&lt;br /&gt;1 clove garlic crushed&lt;br /&gt;4 carrots pared and sliced&lt;br /&gt;1 cup peeled chopped tomatoes&lt;br /&gt;1 pint (16 fl. Oz) hot water&lt;br /&gt;2 stalks green onions finely sliced&lt;br /&gt;1 spring thyme&lt;br /&gt;1 can butter beans (Lima beans)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Molly as Malva Pudding:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zorgvlietwines.com/images/news-articles-malva-pudding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 170px; HEIGHT: 139px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.zorgvlietwines.com/images/news-articles-malva-pudding.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INGREDIENTS FOR PUDDING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flour 1 Cup&lt;br /&gt;Sugar 1 Cup&lt;br /&gt;Baking powder 1 teaspoon&lt;br /&gt;Bicarbonate of soda 1 teaspoon&lt;br /&gt;Vinegar 1 teaspoon&lt;br /&gt;Vanilla essence 1 teaspoon&lt;br /&gt;Butter ¼ tablespoon&lt;br /&gt;Apricot jam 1 tablespoon&lt;br /&gt;Egg 1&lt;br /&gt;Milk 1 cup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;METHOD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beat ingredients for pudding together&lt;br /&gt;Bake at 180 degrees for approximately 40 minutes&lt;br /&gt;Once baked remove from oven and poke with fork&lt;br /&gt;Pour syrup over while still hot&lt;br /&gt;Arrange malva pudding on plate with chocolate garnish&lt;br /&gt;Serve with peppermint ice cream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that I have introduced you too my lovely friend, please share some favorite moments or versions of your Molly, lolol. As you may have noticed I love food and have even proceeded to name my food, crazy. My relationship with it has been a little lob sided. I have taken advantage of it and managed to put on too much weight. So I am now trying to still enjoy my relationship with Molly but make it more balanced. Also, I am trying to build a book of healthy but taste receipes, so please share your favorite versions of your Molly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-1283083451125332038?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/1283083451125332038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-best-friend-molly.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/1283083451125332038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/1283083451125332038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-best-friend-molly.html' title='My Best Friend Molly'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/S6ZJHWUSdzI/AAAAAAAAI78/ecPqaXvXKOk/s72-c/Jamican+stew.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-4578254047473967179</id><published>2010-03-01T20:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T07:56:33.229-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='individual'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commitment'/><title type='text'>Whose marriage is it really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16;"&gt; &lt;h3 style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" class="post-title entry-title"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;So it is 10:51 pm and I got home about an hour and a half ago. On my way home I was listening to a podcast that I downloaded from blog talk radio by Vera, and the topic up for discussion was "Why should I get married". This was an extremely thought provoking conversation and I am so disappointed that I did not have the opportunity to call in. So I figured I would give my thoughts really quick. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: normal" class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:courier new;font-size:medium;"&gt;A few people who participated in the discussion, raised some interesting points regarding marriage. The point that comes to mind, however, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;w&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;as&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:16;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: normal" class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:courier new;font-size:medium;"&gt; one that was raised by a single lady. She stated that she really did not think marriage was worth it, because she had seen so many people's marriages that had failed or were not model marriages. In essence marriage was not a great thing. (Granted this is not the direct quote, but that was the general idea.) If I had the opportunity to call in, this would have been my response to her comment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;After being married for almost six years now, there is one thing I know for sure. Marriage is a challenge and each day takes a lot off work and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;commitment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;. And though it is vital for married couples or even single people to have marriages they admire or look up to, basing your whole perception of marriage on other people's lives is incorrect for many reasons. For one people are emotional beings and fall short in their life walk. And even when they do not want to disappoint their admirers, parents, observers and even themselves, disappointment happens. So as opposed to single people and married people basing their lives or relationships on how other people live or conduct their marriages or relationships, INDIVIDUAL relationships should be based on ones own set of values, beliefs and life experiences. For some it may be the bible or something else, but at the end of the day your relationship should be defined by your own experiences not by other peoples'. Why should the manner in which other people conduct their personal lives determine your individual lives. With that said I think each person has free will and should dance to the beat of their own drum, learn how to improve their own &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;rhythm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; but that of those around them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-4578254047473967179?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/4578254047473967179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/03/whose-marriage-is-it-really.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/4578254047473967179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/4578254047473967179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/03/whose-marriage-is-it-really.html' title='Whose marriage is it really?'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-6633806798105843719</id><published>2010-02-27T14:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T14:28:19.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiger Who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So for the past couple of weeks we have heard the reporters, and every news outlet go on and on about Mr Tiger Woods.  And after weeks of him hiding.  The search was been on to find Tiger.  Was he in South Africa?  Was he in really in sex rehab?  At some point a picture of Tiger was valued at $1,000,000.  A picture of some man who decided to &amp;quot;step out&amp;quot; on his &amp;quot;old lady&amp;quot; mmmmm.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So after 80 some days of being untraceable Mr. Tiger woods resurfaced on Friday 20th 2009 and held a press speech lasted 15 minutes. He controlled who  attended the press conference and no one could ask any questions.  And during the press conference the American stock market dipped to it&amp;#39;s lowest daily trade and then picked up after the speech, showing that everyone was watching Tiger repent.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So I ask the question should the actions of one stupid man really impact our lives so much.  At the end of the day he does not pay a single one of our bills.  He does not care whether or not we succeed or fail.  Why should anyone care whether or not Tiger apologizes or not.  Who is Tiger, but some golfer.  Is this what our society has become that we thrieve on other peoples failures so much that even the stock market ceases to function efficiently, because Tiger is having a press conference to show how sorry he is.  Whether or not he apoligizes to his wife is that really anyone&amp;#39;s business.  We should all mind our own business and deal with our own issues.  Just a thought.&lt;br clear="all"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-6633806798105843719?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/6633806798105843719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/02/tiger-who.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/6633806798105843719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/6633806798105843719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/02/tiger-who.html' title='Tiger Who?'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-8544827565479969380</id><published>2010-02-05T15:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T05:55:17.859-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Ramblings on Haiti</title><content type='html'>When the earthquake struck in Haiti, for atleast the first week, every news program reported on this terrible disaster.  If you turned on MSNBC they were talking about Haiti, even Fox was talking about Haiti, at that time Haiti was the story of the moment.  However, 3 weeks after the earthquake only a handful continue to report or even mention this tragedy, and one of them is the very knowledgable CNN's Anderson Cooper.  I enjoy listening to Anderson because for the most part he seems objective, which is an extremely rare quality when you listen to some of these reporters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, yesterday when I listened to a report that Anderson did on the Haitian government's disregard of the bodies of those who died in the earthquake I was slightly disappointed.  According to Anderson, since the earthquake the Haitian government's strategy, has been to collect the bodies from the street and bury them in mass graves.  Granted, as Anderson correctly pointed out this is not the way any of us would want our loved ones to be buried and those who died deserved a proper burial.  But, I think when you are not dealing with the circumstances, it is really easy to judge how everything is being done incorrectly.  I pose this question: Should the priority be burying people with dignity or insuring that those who are still alive remain living.  Should we not be asking why a plethora of supplies from NGOs and other countries are still sitting at the airport.  Is the Haitian government ensuring that they bury people with dignity really the most important issue right now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what do I know, I just thought I should share my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&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/5934546938259319446-8544827565479969380?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/8544827565479969380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/02/random-ramblings-on-haiti.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/8544827565479969380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/8544827565479969380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2010/02/random-ramblings-on-haiti.html' title='Random Ramblings on Haiti'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-5191627065961326991</id><published>2009-11-25T20:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T20:48:14.039-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life lessons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zimbo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Apology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zimbabwe'/><title type='text'>Life lessons</title><content type='html'>When I started this blog, my hope was to make an entry every week. But, alas I got side tracked by the happenings of life.  But, my hope is that the intervals or time lag between my posts will improve. So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;1. My friend Rose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend, something happened that made me pause and think about what is really important. On Sunday morning my friend's husband called me to let me know that her brother had passed away. Like a good friends I dropped everything and rushed to her be by her side. When we got there I found my friend "Rose" alone in her room crying her eyes out. The sight of seeing my friend sitting on the floor under her duvet broke my heart. Not only had she lost her brother unexpectedly, she had to mourn with her family over the phone. She was unable to monitor how her mother was coping with having to bury her fourth child. It was at that point I realized how helpless one can feel when living abroad. Though Rose had her new make shift family (i.e. her diaspora friends) around to support her by just saying, "Sorry hako Rose, Sorry hako shamwari yangu" (I am sorry my Rose) it was definitely would not be the same as being around her remaining brothers and sisters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was younger, I nevre really understood why my mother dragged us to funerals where we had to sit on the hard cement floors and watch random women who had just arrived from the ruseva (rural areas) throw her bags on the ground and start waling hysterically from the gate so that everyone sitting in the house knew that that kwazvika munhu anochema (someone who really knows how to cry has arrived). I never appreciated people gathering for days on end before burying someone. Or why at every funeral there was that one woman who was not reverent to the fact that someone had died and cracking jokes was just not appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, as I sat with Rose in her bedroom and I could not help but notice how she hard she was trying not to cry, so that I would not feel uncomfortable. While I on the other hand was thinking to myself, "Lord please may one tear, just one tear come out so that I can cry or mourn with my friend, and not seem as though I am being insensitive". It was at that moment that I understood and appreciated how we carried out our funerals back home. I apprecuated the woman who came from the rural areas and cried uncontrolably even though she never really had a relationship with the person who had just passed away. Her theatrical crying gave the grieveing family members the opportunity to cry without feeling awkward and the opportunity dzekupedza shungu dzekuchema. But, in addition the theatrical cryer also helped those like myself who are not really moved to cry on cue, not come across as insensitive.&lt;br /&gt;I also realized that those women veruwadzano, with their ngoma's and hoshos who sang for days on end, played an important part aswell. Their sing for a few moments distracted the grieving family from the pain of their loss. And that irreverant woman she too had a role, it was to fill in those awkward moments of silence that seem never to end when you are alone with someone who is grieving. And even the irreverant woman's jokes not only filled those voids but also lifted people's spirits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I will do the next time I have to go and comfort one of my friends, but maybe if I incorporate a little of all those women I saw growing up I guess it will ease the awakardness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;2. The Days of Gwisai's Life Update&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my last post we learnt that after Gwisai's future "baby mama" had faked her pregnancy and many parellels could be made between real life drama and TV drama. And accordingly the Gwisai Memory scandal continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after being burnt by lady love, Gwisai decided that life away from his mother was really tough. So he decided that at age 28 the best way to recover from this traumatic event was to move back to his mother's home. Now if this was the best move, it really depends who you ask but I say, to each is own. But, I love the drama that surrounds this guy because it gives me something to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as mentioned earlier Gwisai decided to move out of his to move out of his twon house and move back in with his parents. But, Memory was not going to go down without a fight. She secretly began watching Gwisai's daily moves. When he went to work and when he returned. One day while Gwisai was driving back home, he slowed down to turn into the road that led to his family's home. And waiting at the corner, sure enough was Memory. I figure she had finally mustered up the courage to ask Gwisai to take her back. I assume that when Gwisai saw her he slowed down, rolled down the window and asked her what she wanted. Memory I assume, tried to plead with Gwisai and explain that she was the only one for him. And she would not let her go because what then followed is nothing short of thetrically. Gwisai told her they were not going to get back together, she then jumped into the the back of the Mazda B1600 and refused to get out. Now you may ask why not just pick her up and get her out of the car. Well apparently Memory is a big girl and moving her wpuld not an easy task. And her size was also one of the reasons given why noone had noticed she was not pregnant. In any event after refusing to remove herself from Gwisai's B1600, Gwisai's lawyer instinct told him to drive to the police station and have them deal with her. Upon his arrival at the ZRP (Zimbabwean Republic Police) station, the officers on duty told Gwisai that they were unable to remove Memory from his car, as this was a domestic issue and the best way to handle this was to go kwatete discuss the issue. Well Gwisai knowing his rights, told the police that until they removed the intruder in his car, he would not remove the car from the ZRP parking lot. Unbeknownst to Memory, Gwisai had proceeded to leave the police station and return back home. Memory determined to win Gwisai back decided tospend the night in the back of the open truck. The next morning during the a shift change one of the officer went over to Memory and said "Iwe munhu wawakamirira akaenda nzuro enda kumba." (You the person you are waiting for left yesterday go home). A disappointed Memory picked herself up and went where ever her home was. A few days later she went to the Mupandawana's residence to let Mai Mupandawana that she was pregnant again. And of course it was Gwisai's baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;3. The lesson Dhedhi taught me&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up I always admired dhedhi (daddy)'s ability to acknowledge when he was wrong or had hurt your feelings. No matter how big or small the offence, if dhedhi came to the realization that he was wrong or he had hurt you he always made sure he said "sorri bhabi". Two days ago I had a disagreement with one of my best friends. I felt that she wronged me and in response I said some stuff that was not only unnecessary but mean spirited. I later apologized to her and she graciously accepted my apology, but I knew that it was not my greatest moment. I am fortunate that dhedhi taught me that I should never be ashamed to apologize because if I had not done so I could have lost one of my greatest friends. Thank God for Dhedhi and thank God for gorgiving friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well friends till next time. Happy thanks giving to those of you in the States.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-5191627065961326991?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/5191627065961326991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2009/11/life-lessons.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/5191627065961326991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/5191627065961326991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2009/11/life-lessons.html' title='Life lessons'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5934546938259319446.post-8963343629208729785</id><published>2009-10-27T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T04:44:31.849-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Days of Our Lives'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zimbabwe'/><title type='text'>Reflections of 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Disclaimer: People, who know me well, are aware that reading and writing have never been my greatest talent. I would rather deal with numbers than write or read anything; and hence that is why I am a bean counter (aka accountant). Such that when &lt;a href="http://mybestfriendslittlesister.blogspot.com"&gt;sisi&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://mybestfriendslittlesister.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; suggested I start a blog, I never thought I would succumb to the pressure. So I apologize in advance if at times my writings may seem disorganized or incoherent. Just bear with me and try to get the jist of the blog, lolol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hello to you all in blogsville, I hope I find you well. I have been debating on what my first blog should be on. So seeing as 2009 is coming to an end in two months I thought this would take time to reflect on some of the happenings of the year, life changing and random. So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pregnancy:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So in January I started my accounting career, and granted I was three months pregnant and I should have known that it was probably not the best time to enter a new field. I was working 10 - 12 hour days, and was consistently exhausted. But, I thought that being pregnant would be a breeze, I mean I had heard talk of how lovely the whole pregnancy experience was, and one of my friends' consistently talked about how lovely her pregnancy was and how she would do it all over again in a heartbeat. But I later realized that a lot of this was utter nonsense. Don't get me wrong, the fact that a human being can literally from nothing, shows how amazing our Creator is. But, I really do wish that women would be honest and stop making those of us whose pregnancies are not so enjoyable feel inadequate. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the day came for me to have my little girl to be cut out of me (C-Section), I told the doctor to give whatever medication was available. I mean really I was not the first person to have a child and therefore there was really nothing for me to prove. So I was wheeled into the operating room and after thirty minutes of tugging and pulling, my daughter was born at 11:59 am. When they brought her to me for the first time I did not bond with her immediately, maybe it was the hormones. I knew she was my child but I really did not feel much of a connection with her. For the next two days people were in and out of my hospital room and I put on a happy face, because in my culture we do not talk about our feelings, for example not feeling like you would do anything for this child or not feeling a deep love for the person who just came out of you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;However, on the third day after everyone had left, that is when it happened. And for some unknown reason when I held her in my arms that night the water works started. I just could not fathom that this was my child and she was so precious and beautiful she. All of a sudden when my husband wanted to take her back to the hospital nursery I felt as though we were abandoning her. It was at that moment that I instantly fell in love with her, and till now I do not understand how it is possible to love someone you just met so deeply. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask myself now, would I ever put myself through another nine months of exhaustion, swollen feet and all that jazz. And the answer is yes, because becoming and being a mother is truly a blessing and the "trauma" of pregnancy seems worth it at the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;2. Murora wangu wechirungu (My white sister-in-law) &lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Three days before the birth of my daughter, my brother got married. 'Brother' getting married deserves mentioning not just because he is my brother, but because the induction of murora, 'Emma' into our family has really made me a more accepting person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the summer of 2006, brother had called me and said there was someone he wanted me to meet. Sezvineyi (Coincidently) sisi was visiting from Zimbabwe and she also shared in my excitement. The day came for us too meet this special lady. I opened the door there she was, Brother's girlfriend, petite, a smile that could melt your heart, and wait; for it she was a MURUNGU (white). My response was one of shock and horror, cause shuwa shuwa 'Brother' kuunza murungu mumhuri (As in seriouusly, for Brother to bring a white person into the family).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why I responded in this manner still baffles me. I grew up with varungu (white people) since I was a baby. I had gone to school with white people and even had white friends. But, the idea of 'Brother' marrying a white person was a concept that I had a hard time wrapping my mind around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, over the years as I have gotten to know Emma more, I too have fallen in love with her. And as cliché and corny as this sounds I can also say "it is not the color of a person's skin that matters but what is inside and don't judge a book by its cover." LOLOL, my murora has brought out the best in 'Brother' and that is really all I could ask for right, a happy brother, lol. And now at Christmas I am guaranteed of receiving lovely presents, because white people are really good at giving good presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends reminded me of a question I once asked her years ago. "Gertrude” I said, “What do your parents think of the fact that your brother is marrying a white person." Her response was “I don't know Mrs. X." Many years later "Gertrude" asked me the same question, my response was simple “I don't know about my parents, but me I love my murora.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;3. My drug of choice&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past 13 years my drug of choice has been soap operas, and not just any soap opera "Days of our lives". When it comes to "Days of our lives" it has been difficult for me to stop watching, and believe me I have tried. Not because I know that it is a waste of time for me too watch these fictional characters that sometimes get possessed by demons, die six or so times. Sometimes I stop watching because the show is not advancing a plot I want. So this past month after some reflection, mmm. I realized it was time to kick the bucket and stop watching this nonsense. However, this past weekend after talking to mama I realized that Days of our lives is not a fictional concept and it is truly a depiction of real life and if I stopped watching I could lose out on many life lessons portrayed in "Days". Let me validate this statement, please bear with me: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in December sisi told me of how Gwisai Mupandawana had gotten a girl named 'Memory' pregnant. This initially came as a shock to me, not because he had made a girl pregnant out of wedlock, but, because he had enough game to even attract a girl. For as long as I can remember, Gwisai has always been extremely uncomfortable speaking to girls or even being in the same room as one. And for the most part his mother has always done the seeking of potential girlfriends and has been on a mission to find him a wife whose family has good morals and a good in standing the community. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Gwisai', being 28 and all decided to try and fly on his own, and by finding a girl without his mother’s assistance. So the story goes as follows: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;'Gwisai' meets a girl named Memory, gets Memory pregnant. And Memory meets her potential mother in law. Mother in law hates Memory. Mother in law and who in turn calls up all her friends saying "Zvandaka zoitirwa naGwisai rwendo runo, kundiunzira musikana waakanonga murhodhi" (You won't believe what Gwisai did he brought a girl he met on the road into my home). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Mother in law came to terms with her disappointment and accepted pregnancy and her new murora. Memory did everything that a responsible pregnant woman would do. She went for her monthly doctor visits, had an ultra sound done. She even returned with ultra sound pictures and wonderful news that Gwisai and her were having a girl, and she would be named Ntha in honor of Mai Mupandawana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mai Mupandawana senior travelled to America for a wedding, whilst in America knowing that her new daughter in law's due date was two weeks over due, her friends asked her "komuzukuru haasati azvarwa nanhasi."(Your granddaughter still has not been born?) She responds and saying "No ndofunga akatadza kucalculata due date yake, nekuti haana kungwara." (No, I think she miscalculated her due date, because she is not clever). Mai Mupandawana returned from America with gifts for her soon to arrive muzukuru (grandchild) Ntha junior. Upon her arrival she was told that her murora had the baby, but unfortunately she was still born. Condolences started pouring in from her friends and those of us in the Diaspora who sent emailing expressing how sorry we were that their family had gone through this terrible ordeal. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weeks later Mai Mupandawana calls her son Gwisai and asks him to come over so she could fully understand what really happened with the birth of her muzukuru. According to Gwisai, he had woken up and gone to work like any other day. When he returned home he found his wife at home as usual. However, while Gwisai was at work, Memory had gone into labor, caught an E.T. (emergency taxi or bus) to the hospital, had the baby, cremated the baby and managed to return home to greet Gwisai after a long day at work. At this point, any logical person would have asked how Memory had managed to do all this while Gwisai was at work and where the baby's death certificate was. But, not Gwisai. Mai Mupandawana, baffled by her son’s explanation instructed him to go and further question his wife and ask her to take him to the doctor who delivered and issued the baby's death certificate. As instructed by his mother Gwisai went home and asked Memory for a death certificate. she quickly began protesting stating that Gwisai's mother is trying to come between them and just as long as they understood each other they were fine. After further interrogation this girl from the road admitted she had pulled a fast one on all of them and had faked NINE MONTHS of pregnancy. How she pulled it off goodness knows, but the girl from the road fooled everyone. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one might ask, how does this impact my decision not to give up Days of our lives. Well the answer is simple. For the past three months there was a hot storyline on Days similar to this. Nicole a character in Days of our lives has staged a pregnancy in order to stop E.J. from divorcing her. Now Nicole has not been caught, however, the correlation between the Days of our lives storyline and Memory, leads me to believe that Memory may also be an avid follower of Days like myself. And if she was able to obtain the skill set required to successfully fool a clan of people from just watching Days, imagine what I could learn . So I say this Days is a wonderful program and gives us the tools required to make it in our everyday lives. LOLOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think for a first post I have written more than I should, and I probably should save some stuff for my next post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5934546938259319446-8963343629208729785?l=thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/feeds/8963343629208729785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2009/10/disclaimer-people-who-know-me-well-are.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/8963343629208729785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5934546938259319446/posts/default/8963343629208729785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelifeofazimbomamainnewyork.blogspot.com/2009/10/disclaimer-people-who-know-me-well-are.html' title='Reflections of 2009'/><author><name>Mrs X</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00159392826059129020</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGijZhYbMbg/SuCTUoXVXgI/AAAAAAAAHq0/dy_AUJ51dQc/S220/s41664cb120779_11.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
