<?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-1402778325950102241</id><updated>2011-10-28T10:46:12.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Moure' Family</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-3494725213324708900</id><published>2010-04-08T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T09:03:04.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the trials come...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S8CghXrHSAI/AAAAAAAAALA/FClKrKi8Y8c/s1600/work.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458539243524016130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S8CghXrHSAI/AAAAAAAAALA/FClKrKi8Y8c/s320/work.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; You know that saying that when it rains, it pours? Well, my life is flooding right now... Sigh, within the past week, I have been hit with bad news about family member's health, had some pretty scary pre-term contractions that were going every 5 minutes (on meds to knock those off), had heavy stress from work (yelled at by crazy moms and kids going into crisis after crisis), am at risk for failing a course (that I previously had a 110% in) based on a technicality, and now Ben's got the stomach flu! I've been so overwhelmed that I didn't know where to turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank heavens for the wonderful support I have around me. Family has offered their support and help... Eddie was there at my doctor's visit to ensure I told the doctor everything and not minimize it. Because of the stress at work and my subsequent contractions, the doctor is now recommending that I begin my leave early... &lt;em&gt;like end of next week&lt;/em&gt; early. Sigh. I guess that's both a relief and a stressor. Heck, I woke up this morning rethinking the newly assigned case managers to the kids on my caseload. Are they the right person? Will they be able to work with the family like I do? Am I abandoning these kids? And the questions go on and on. --Of course, HR was none too thrilled about me leaving work early and let me know on Friday that by beginning my FMLA next week, I technically have to return to work &lt;em&gt;4 weeks&lt;/em&gt; after my scheduled C-section, otherwise they cannot guarantee my job, my insurance, or my short-term disability pay. Nice, right? But don't worry, HR lady told me not to stress about it because "&lt;em&gt;hopefully&lt;/em&gt; [I] could go into pre-term labor, have a pre-term baby, and then return to work just fine by mid-July." Thanks, HR. That's a great idea. Where do they find these people? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S8CgpuUxyhI/AAAAAAAAALI/_fimu5Fn-tI/s1600/bears.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458539387043301906" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S8CgpuUxyhI/AAAAAAAAALI/_fimu5Fn-tI/s320/bears.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So now my job is to relax and get through the remainder of these trials without sending myself into labor again. Every time I start to worry and feel my belly getting tight and my back starting to cramp, I &lt;em&gt;try&lt;/em&gt; to take a deep breath and let it all go. Huh. Relaxing might end up being more work than doing the work itself...  &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/1402778325950102241-3494725213324708900?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/3494725213324708900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=3494725213324708900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3494725213324708900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3494725213324708900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/04/and-trials-come.html' title='And the trials come...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S8CghXrHSAI/AAAAAAAAALA/FClKrKi8Y8c/s72-c/work.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-3746461950503302364</id><published>2010-03-31T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-31T10:45:50.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Context</title><content type='html'>I have been so stressed out lately. It's like every day I have to hit a reset button on myself just to be able to function enough to get through the day. It reminds me of an experience in my group therapy class where another young lady shared that every time she would be stressed or upset due to the many pressures and influences on her, she would simply hit a 'reset button,' push the stress to the back of her mind, and say, "That's okay," and she would be able to get through the rest of her day. It wasn't really working for her on a deeper level, but at least she was functioning, right? I realized this week that I have been resetting myself like a caged mouse abusing his pellet button. Every day it gets a little harder to hit the reset and by Monday, I felt as if I was reaching a melting point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S7OKDzgr0YI/AAAAAAAAAKw/U4pYQ3fbkcU/s1600/out_of_context.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454855371647340930" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S7OKDzgr0YI/AAAAAAAAAKw/U4pYQ3fbkcU/s320/out_of_context.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So Tuesday I decided to work from home. An option I have always had but have rarely taken advantage of. Why? Because work is done more efficiently in the office with all my resources at my fingertips. Thus, I never really allowed myself to work from home except in extreme situations. But yesterday was a work from home day. A day to take myself out of the context of my life and just be me with no one else around. No office politics. No forced conversations. No obnoxious co-workers shouting frustrations from the next cubicle over. Just me and my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did you know that you can actually hear yourself think when there isn't chaos drowning it out? Did you know there is life outside the rat race we attend every day? I felt so wonderful after having spent the morning doing work my way that I had to do it again today. Sigh. Work from home might not be as efficient as it would be if I was sitting next to the fax machine and file room, but life sure is a lot better. Taking yourself out of the context of the daily crap allows you to breathe again. It allows you to remember who you are and see beyond the next &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;appt&lt;/span&gt; to where you are in life. I'm more than the caseload I support; I have a life too. I just need to remember that every now and then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-3746461950503302364?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/3746461950503302364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=3746461950503302364' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3746461950503302364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3746461950503302364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/03/out-of-context.html' title='Out of Context'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S7OKDzgr0YI/AAAAAAAAAKw/U4pYQ3fbkcU/s72-c/out_of_context.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5297256986444164915</id><published>2010-02-04T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T18:20:55.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence is chocolate.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S2uAWXvoufI/AAAAAAAAAKo/7UlFlgO_vcg/s1600-h/ding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434578497171929586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S2uAWXvoufI/AAAAAAAAAKo/7UlFlgO_vcg/s320/ding.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On Tuesday I ate my afternoon ding dong as I worked in the office doing some documentation. It was my second to last ding dong as I had been working on the box for 3 weeks now. As I finished my post-lunch treat and tossed the foil into the trash, I realized my throat started to feel tight and my lungs felt as though they were coated with molasses. For the rest of the evening, I had to use my inhaler to breathe and had a nasty cough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wednesday morning proved to be much better. I awoke normal again and able to breathe. The morning went well as did lunch. However, chocolate tragedy would strike again. That afternoon as I drove to my last meeting of the day I again enjoyed an afternoon sweet, another ding dong, the last in the box. Before I could even crumple the wrapper, I again felt the tightness in my chest and felt as if I were breathing into a paper bag. This feeling continued for the rest of the evening. I didn't seem to be able to get enough air. Thursday morning was not as good as the previous and I awoke with my voice completely gone. Never mind that I was facilitating two meetings and presenting my first training at work that day and was unable to utter a word; was I allergic to chocolate, I wondered? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spoke with my mom about this concern and apparently it is something that runs on the maternal side of the family: my mom and her mom both tend to have an intolerance for "cheaper" chocolate, such as the kind that covers my cakey ding dong delight, to the point that it affects their asthma as well. What?? I couldn't believe it. How could it bother me now when I had been eating them for weeks? I don't know. I don't get it. Sigh... all I know is that Valentine's Day is around the corner and I just discovered I might allergic to chocolate. How depressing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5297256986444164915?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5297256986444164915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5297256986444164915' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5297256986444164915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5297256986444164915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/02/silence-is-chocolate.html' title='Silence is chocolate.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S2uAWXvoufI/AAAAAAAAAKo/7UlFlgO_vcg/s72-c/ding.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-152264551897513639</id><published>2010-01-19T15:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T15:29:55.784-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween... 3 months later.</title><content type='html'>I wanted to put up all the photos of Ben from Halloween. We bought the Buzz Lightyear costume but I made the wings out of posterboard and shoe laces. We went to our church the weekend before Halloween for a Trunk or Treat. Everyone backs their cars into the parking lot and hands out candy from their decorated trunks. We missed the chili cookoff but made it just in time for Ben to get candy from about 20 cars. He was definitely the most polite trick or treater there saying, "Please" and "Thank you" to anyone who handed him a piece of candy. On Halloween, we walked around the neighborhood till we reached my mom's house (she lives right behind us) where Ben saw his Uncle Jake. After seeing family, he didn't want to go to anymore houses and made Eddie carry him home. Good thing it was so close. We spent the rest of the evening handing out candy in front of our house. We even demanded that the teenagers who would merely shove their bags in our faces say, "Trick or Treat" real nice and pretty. I guess we are lucky they didn't come back and egg us... haha. Ben has since worn his Buzz costumes a few more times (a couple of times he just wants to wear the wings), but each time he dawns part or all of the costume he runs through the house yelling, "TO INFINITY AND BE-NONNNNNDDD!" &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAQSYNGuI/AAAAAAAAAKg/5OeI8mztJ3U/s1600-h/S4022905.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428597049397156578" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAQSYNGuI/AAAAAAAAAKg/5OeI8mztJ3U/s320/S4022905.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAP2yfFYI/AAAAAAAAAKY/rowuddITeAE/s1600-h/S4022914.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428597041991193986" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAP2yfFYI/AAAAAAAAAKY/rowuddITeAE/s320/S4022914.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAPdE7gSI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/k_GOnC8yB68/s1600-h/S4022913.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428597035089232162" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAPdE7gSI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/k_GOnC8yB68/s320/S4022913.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAPMxxWSI/AAAAAAAAAKI/ch-VLrBL7zk/s1600-h/S4022899.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428597030713907490" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAPMxxWSI/AAAAAAAAAKI/ch-VLrBL7zk/s320/S4022899.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAOrk_YQI/AAAAAAAAAKA/kTrFyzmfPjA/s1600-h/S4022912.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428597021801931010" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAOrk_YQI/AAAAAAAAAKA/kTrFyzmfPjA/s320/S4022912.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/1402778325950102241-152264551897513639?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/152264551897513639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=152264551897513639' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/152264551897513639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/152264551897513639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/01/halloween-3-months-later.html' title='Halloween... 3 months later.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S1ZAQSYNGuI/AAAAAAAAAKg/5OeI8mztJ3U/s72-c/S4022905.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-8615937889747035483</id><published>2010-01-12T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T19:32:52.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Array of Photos</title><content type='html'>I decided to just post a bunch of pictures from the past, um... 7 months or so. You know, the period of time we went MIA due to computer technical difficulties. There are some from our trip to San Diego, our wedding anniversary, Ben being silly, more silly Ben, and some other random stuff. Enjoy!!!!&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g1PxOZ2I/AAAAAAAAAJA/LnRCVlVaP5U/s1600-h/S4022778.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803281375422306" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g1PxOZ2I/AAAAAAAAAJA/LnRCVlVaP5U/s320/S4022778.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g2zZMI5I/AAAAAAAAAJg/wHfT0YNKxlM/s1600-h/S4022902.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803308118156178" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g2zZMI5I/AAAAAAAAAJg/wHfT0YNKxlM/s320/S4022902.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g2Zi50BI/AAAAAAAAAJY/HWHnEgiFUno/s1600-h/S4022891.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803301179576338" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g2Zi50BI/AAAAAAAAAJY/HWHnEgiFUno/s320/S4022891.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g2CexXvI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/dcQAIqHiffQ/s1600-h/S4022843.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803294988230386" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g2CexXvI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/dcQAIqHiffQ/s320/S4022843.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g1smAFuI/AAAAAAAAAJI/h1A3cXPLnqY/s1600-h/S4022833.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803289112975074" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g1smAFuI/AAAAAAAAAJI/h1A3cXPLnqY/s320/S4022833.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_hb9Rh-EI/AAAAAAAAAJw/fXzq2KJpZT8/s1600-h/S4022940.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803946425546818" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_hb9Rh-EI/AAAAAAAAAJw/fXzq2KJpZT8/s320/S4022940.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_hbdyVzbI/AAAAAAAAAJo/N3Cpl83t87Y/s1600-h/S4022919.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803937973226930" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_hbdyVzbI/AAAAAAAAAJo/N3Cpl83t87Y/s320/S4022919.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_hcEvkbwI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/iRJI_827b6Q/s1600-h/S4022997.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803948430585602" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_hcEvkbwI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/iRJI_827b6Q/s320/S4022997.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&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/1402778325950102241-8615937889747035483?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/8615937889747035483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=8615937889747035483' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8615937889747035483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8615937889747035483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/01/array-of-photos.html' title='Array of Photos'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0_g1PxOZ2I/AAAAAAAAAJA/LnRCVlVaP5U/s72-c/S4022778.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-866448015765599415</id><published>2010-01-04T19:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T17:29:05.462-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0K0FlC6XMI/AAAAAAAAAIw/rxQGOg2Tx1M/s1600-h/christmas2009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423094909244169410" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0K0FlC6XMI/AAAAAAAAAIw/rxQGOg2Tx1M/s320/christmas2009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I know this Christmas post in late but I figure better late than never, right? Christmas was mellow but really nice this year. Didn't the season seem to go by really fast this year though? Anyway, on Christmas Day, we three spent the whole day together (I'm not sure we ever changed out of our pajamas) just relaxing and using our new presents. Ben loved his new tool bench. He still runs around with his tools saying, "I'm like you, Daddy. Like you!" So cute. I made a lasanga and salad for dinner. Simple, but nice. Unfortunately, my morning sickness prevented me from eating much so Eddie was left with the task to eat all of it in the week ahead. He did not disappoint me. Eat it, he did. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0K0GMhFsQI/AAAAAAAAAI4/oYgYOqAvic8/s1600-h/Christmas2009ben.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423094919839723778" style="WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0K0GMhFsQI/AAAAAAAAAI4/oYgYOqAvic8/s320/Christmas2009ben.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-866448015765599415?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/866448015765599415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=866448015765599415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/866448015765599415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/866448015765599415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/01/holiday-time.html' title='Holiday Time...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0K0FlC6XMI/AAAAAAAAAIw/rxQGOg2Tx1M/s72-c/christmas2009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5081315283646326673</id><published>2010-01-04T19:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T19:26:46.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Been so long... will anyone read this?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0KxIaXpv9I/AAAAAAAAAIg/9rCpURl1V4o/s1600-h/computer+cartoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423091659383095250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0KxIaXpv9I/AAAAAAAAAIg/9rCpURl1V4o/s320/computer+cartoon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So it has been over six months since I have posted anything. Our computer didn't seem to handle the move very well and refused to do much of anything. It would take 15 minutes just to get to my hotmail account. Ridiculous. There were so many viruses and despite purchasing software to fix it, the computer seemed to be taking a turn for the worse. And so, we just avoided using the computer completely for the past 8 months only using it when absolutely necessary as we feared we would lose our documents and pics if we messed with it too much and... because of all the viruses deeply imbedded in the system, we didn't want to just back up our stuff thinking it might take the virus to our new computer... Thank heavens for Geek Squad. We took the computer in and they were able to back up all our information and check it all for bugs. Whew. Now we've been able to plug in the computer we purchased back in May and forever lay to rest the junk one without the fear that it will die taking our precious baby photos and what not with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5081315283646326673?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5081315283646326673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5081315283646326673' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5081315283646326673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5081315283646326673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2010/01/been-so-long-will-anyone-read-this.html' title='Been so long... will anyone read this?'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/S0KxIaXpv9I/AAAAAAAAAIg/9rCpURl1V4o/s72-c/computer+cartoon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2592146638129052269</id><published>2009-04-30T16:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T21:07:52.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Draw a line</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SjsO8aHA0pI/AAAAAAAAAIY/kwr_xpRZTLw/s1600-h/S4022758.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348885413396271762" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SjsO8aHA0pI/AAAAAAAAAIY/kwr_xpRZTLw/s320/S4022758.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Written April 2009: Last weekend, Eddie and I moved into our new house. I found myself driving our CR-V jam packed with cardboard boxes, photo frames, and miscellaneous knick-knacks. As I attempted to look in my rearview mirror in an effort to make sure Eddie was handling the 26 foot U-Haul ok, I glanced at the pile of accumulated personal items. It should be noted here that I tend to hoard personal items that have any sort of sentimental or memory evocative attachment. Why? If you know me well, you would know that I have a less than perfect memory. I suppose I collect things to remember what I so often forget. These items fill in the gaps for me when my brain cannot recall it. Imagine if you will, my memory as a blank connect-the-dot game. Sad, perhaps, but true. It was then that it dawned on me... how my life is a pathway lined with or connected by these items. My yearbooks, elementary school journals, pregnancy clothes, mission photos, stuffed animals, Ben's baby clothes, Eddie's soccer jerseys... They all mark the path of our lives seperately and together. It's funny how moving makes you so nostalgic and "trunky."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I am left with questions: Am I the sum of these boxes? Do they make me who I am? Or am I greater than these parts? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2592146638129052269?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2592146638129052269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2592146638129052269' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2592146638129052269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2592146638129052269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/04/draw-line.html' title='Draw a line'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SjsO8aHA0pI/AAAAAAAAAIY/kwr_xpRZTLw/s72-c/S4022758.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2011008512777624854</id><published>2009-03-21T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T12:11:05.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Triple threat, Baby... Yeah!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is from March 2009..... just thought I would post it anyway....&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVUUb93GDI/AAAAAAAAAIA/o8a8i2AH8b4/s1600-h/S4022734.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315747645262075954" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 189px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVUUb93GDI/AAAAAAAAAIA/o8a8i2AH8b4/s320/S4022734.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We have been celebrating birthdays for weeks now. It has been a blast, especially with all the cake around our apartment. It started with Eddie's birthday on Feb. 19th. It was the big 2-5. :) We had family over and I surprised him with a 30" pizza (something he has only dreamed about). Eddie, of course, got soccer gear including a new training jersey and shorts. Ben's birthday was next on March 3rd. That night Ed and I took him to Toys R Us to pick out his present. It was a little overwhelming for him and he ultimately left empty-handed. Ed and I did pick out what he seemed to like most and went back that weekend to get him his first big wheel, which he absolutely loves. Since our apartment has carpet, he just scoots it across the floor for now. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVTrEkTpAI/AAAAAAAAAH4/N8mtNVTXlBE/s1600-h/S4022748.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315746934606242818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 253px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVTrEkTpAI/AAAAAAAAAH4/N8mtNVTXlBE/s320/S4022748.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Once he can reach those petals though, look out! That Saturday we went to the park, came home to eat some pizza, and had tons of fun! Ben loved blowing out his own candle and made us do it over and over again. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVTqVtvDgI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Id-mCr2W1jI/s1600-h/S4022740.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315746922029321730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 247px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 173px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVTqVtvDgI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Id-mCr2W1jI/s320/S4022740.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My birthday was the last of the three, being March 22nd. My biggest present? Eddie planned the weekend for me so I didn't have to stress. What a great hubby I have! On Friday, Eddie took me to dinner at Black Angus with some friends, Mike and Katrina, where I was craving some steak! I enjoyed my filet mignon and virgin Pina Colada. Yum! The party continued to Sunday; we had family and some friends come over. Yay!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2011008512777624854?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2011008512777624854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2011008512777624854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2011008512777624854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2011008512777624854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/03/triple-threat-baby-yeah.html' title='Triple threat, Baby... Yeah!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ScVUUb93GDI/AAAAAAAAAIA/o8a8i2AH8b4/s72-c/S4022734.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1450394048251833532</id><published>2009-02-18T10:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T15:49:51.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to the Zoo...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ShsgESOCEMI/AAAAAAAAAII/rzcIEuZXWOM/s1600-h/S4022693.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339897041160114370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ShsgESOCEMI/AAAAAAAAAII/rzcIEuZXWOM/s320/S4022693.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At the end of February, we spent a day off going to the Phoenix Zoo. Yeah, I know that was forever ago, but I am now just getting to it. :) Too expensive, but still way fun. Ben had a blast looking at all the animals. We saw rhino butts, eating giraffes, boring elephants, lazy tigers, sleeping lions, angry monkeys, quacking ducks, and more, but I think he enjoyed the birds the most. Funny, huh? Oh, and he also got to hug a goat. :) The best part? Nana took Ben on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;carousel&lt;/span&gt;. When it was over, he clung to that pole and screamed until my mom ran over to the attendant and paid another dollar to ride the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;carousel&lt;/span&gt; again. He loved that ride so much! By mid-afternoon it was getting cold so we headed home. Ben was asleep within minutes of being in the car.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ShsgEt3Jt6I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/HQR3rpKj9Cg/s1600-h/S4022716.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339897048580339618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ShsgEt3Jt6I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/HQR3rpKj9Cg/s320/S4022716.JPG" 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/1402778325950102241-1450394048251833532?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1450394048251833532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1450394048251833532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1450394048251833532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1450394048251833532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/02/going-to-zoo.html' title='Going to the Zoo...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ShsgESOCEMI/AAAAAAAAAII/rzcIEuZXWOM/s72-c/S4022693.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-6823226320337962454</id><published>2009-02-16T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T08:24:27.404-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All You Need Is Love!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SZolSw0-kgI/AAAAAAAAAHI/azCQeqmIOag/s1600-h/S4022682.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303592515457159682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SZolSw0-kgI/AAAAAAAAAHI/azCQeqmIOag/s320/S4022682.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Valentine's Day was awesome this year. In the morning, I gave Eddie his present: a hilarious card, hand-made coupons, and a gift certificate for a massage. He went out and picked up the Edible &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bouquet&lt;/span&gt; that he had ordered me. Yum! I told him I wanted a healthy Valentine's Day since I am still battling holiday &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;repercussions&lt;/span&gt;. He also got me a card and flowers. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SZolTLKLdxI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9fGZZL9XnBw/s1600-h/S4022684.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since we figured no one would want to babysit for us on a Saturday V-Day, we made it a family day. We got Ben a present and took him to the park. We had a mini picnic and played soccer and volleyball. Later, we had dinner with Eddie's family and stopped by my mom's work to give her flowers. We headed home, rented a movie and curled up together for a romantic evening. Sounds simple? Yes. But I tell you what, it was absolutely perfect. I loved spending the day with my two favorite guys!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SZolTLKLdxI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9fGZZL9XnBw/s1600-h/S4022684.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303592522525406994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SZolTLKLdxI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9fGZZL9XnBw/s320/S4022684.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And it's not over yet! Valentine's Day has been extended! Friday night Eddie and I will go on our own romantic outing for dinner and a movie. I don't know where, but he promised me romance and a steak! :)&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/1402778325950102241-6823226320337962454?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/6823226320337962454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=6823226320337962454' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6823226320337962454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6823226320337962454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-you-need-is-love.html' title='All You Need Is Love!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SZolSw0-kgI/AAAAAAAAAHI/azCQeqmIOag/s72-c/S4022682.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-872005610012201273</id><published>2009-02-08T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T19:24:51.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BFFs Reunited!</title><content type='html'>This past weekend was a blast because I got to see lots of my gal pals that I haven't seen in forever. On Saturday afternoon I had lunch with Emily and Kierra. And then, surprise! Tiffany showed up. It was so great to hang out with all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, I had a triple date night with Heather &amp;amp; Brett and Jenny &amp;amp; JR at Glendale's annual Chocolate Affair. We ate chocolate and had lemonade till we got sick (well, at least my boys did that night :( Sad, huh?). We actually ran into Tiffany &amp;amp; Mark and Kierra &amp;amp; Rob while we were there. What a great time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad thing was that we were all so tired at the end of the evening and it wasn't even 10pm yet! Funny what marriage does to you, right? Kinda sucks the life out of you or something... :) J/k. Anyway, I didn't take any pictures because I am forgetful like that, but the other girls did so I will wait till they post and then nab those pics for me! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-872005610012201273?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/872005610012201273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=872005610012201273' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/872005610012201273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/872005610012201273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/02/bffs-reunited.html' title='BFFs Reunited!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-6691724248985956870</id><published>2009-01-30T10:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T14:42:31.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Only 60 more to go!</title><content type='html'>Thanks Jenny. I needed to post &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Out of the 99 things, I've highlighted what I've done in pink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Started your own blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Slept under the stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Played in a band&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Visited Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Watched a meteor shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Given more than you can afford to charity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Been to Disneyland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Climbed a mountain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.Held a praying mantis (yeah, right. those suckers are mean)&lt;br /&gt;10. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sang a solo (though I probably shouldn't have)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Bungee jumped&lt;br /&gt;12. Visited Paris&lt;br /&gt;13. Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;br /&gt;14.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Taught yourself an art from scratch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Adopted a child&lt;br /&gt;16. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Had food poisoning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Been to the Statue of Liberty&lt;br /&gt;18. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Grown your own vegetables (when we were kids)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France&lt;br /&gt;20.Slept on an overnight train (I havent been on any train)&lt;br /&gt;21.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Had a pillow fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Hitch hiked (it was in Alaska and that makes it ok)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Taken a sick day when you’re not ill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.Built a snow fort&lt;br /&gt;25.&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Held a lamb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Gone skinny dipping&lt;br /&gt;27. Run a Marathon&lt;br /&gt;28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice&lt;br /&gt;29. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Seen a total eclipse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Watched a sunrise or sunset&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Hit a home run&lt;br /&gt;32. Been on a cruise&lt;br /&gt;33. Seen Niagara Falls in person&lt;br /&gt;34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors&lt;br /&gt;35. Seen an Amish community&lt;br /&gt;36. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Taught yourself a new language&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied&lt;br /&gt;38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person&lt;br /&gt;39. Gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;40. Seen Michelangelo’s David&lt;br /&gt;41. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sung Karaoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt&lt;br /&gt;43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant (no, but that sounds nice)&lt;br /&gt;44. Visited Africa&lt;br /&gt;45. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Walked on a beach by moonlight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. Been transported in an ambulance&lt;br /&gt;47. Had your portrait painted&lt;br /&gt;48. Gone deep sea fishing&lt;br /&gt;49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person&lt;br /&gt;50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris&lt;br /&gt;51. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Gone scuba diving or snorkeling&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Kissed in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Played in the mud (MUD BALL!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Gone to a drive-in theater&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Been in a movie (It was a stake missionary video)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;57. Started a business&lt;br /&gt;58. Taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;59. Visited Russia (Where's the Visited Brazil question?)&lt;br /&gt;60. Served at a soup kitchen&lt;br /&gt;61. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Sold Girl Scout Cookies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62. Gone whale watching&lt;br /&gt;63. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Got flowers for no reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;64. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Donated blood, platelets or plasma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Gone sky diving&lt;br /&gt;66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp&lt;br /&gt;67. Bounced a check&lt;br /&gt;68. Flown in a helicopter&lt;br /&gt;69. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Saved a favorite childhood toy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial&lt;br /&gt;71. Eaten Caviar&lt;br /&gt;72. Pieced a quilt&lt;br /&gt;73. Stood in Times Square&lt;br /&gt;74. Toured the Everglades&lt;br /&gt;75. Been fired from a job&lt;br /&gt;76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London&lt;br /&gt;77. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Broken a bone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Been on a speeding motorcycle (Heck I was the one driving!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person (26 years in Az and nope, I havent)&lt;br /&gt;80. Published a book&lt;br /&gt;81. Visited the Vatican&lt;br /&gt;82. Bought a brand new car&lt;br /&gt;83. Walked in Jerusalem&lt;br /&gt;84. Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;br /&gt;85. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Read the entire Bible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;86. Visited the White House&lt;br /&gt;87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;br /&gt;88. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Had chickenpox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Saved someone’s life (Missions count! Those are &lt;em&gt;spiritual &lt;/em&gt;lives!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Sat on a jury&lt;br /&gt;91. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Met someone famous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. Joined a book club (They wouldnt let me)&lt;br /&gt;93. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Lost a loved one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Had a baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95. Seen the Alamo in person (No, though Eddie talks so much about it, I feel like I have)&lt;br /&gt;96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake&lt;br /&gt;97. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Been involved in a law suit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;98. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Owned a cell phone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Been stung by a bee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-6691724248985956870?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/6691724248985956870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=6691724248985956870' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6691724248985956870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6691724248985956870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/01/only-to-60-more-to-go.html' title='Only 60 more to go!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5237831771059276706</id><published>2009-01-03T17:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T17:29:18.889-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Boo Year!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-660f034fe73716ea" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D660f034fe73716ea%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330077601%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D80B5BCAC1CA88A09ED9113965ADCACD8C8A6C99E.7E56160973F70293D431CE441A55C4FF01B46CB8%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D660f034fe73716ea%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dgtn25esM82BZIeFwfQMX6KndnRs&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D660f034fe73716ea%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330077601%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D80B5BCAC1CA88A09ED9113965ADCACD8C8A6C99E.7E56160973F70293D431CE441A55C4FF01B46CB8%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D660f034fe73716ea%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dgtn25esM82BZIeFwfQMX6KndnRs&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SWAPaYulWBI/AAAAAAAAAG4/6CFMnLjB6vg/s1600-h/S4022673.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287242908521814034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 276px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SWAPaYulWBI/AAAAAAAAAG4/6CFMnLjB6vg/s320/S4022673.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Because Ben and I were getting over the flu, we all decided to stay in for a quiet family New Year's celebration. Eddie and I agreed that Ben could take a late nap and then stay up as late as he could. And let me tell you, that little trooper stayed up till midnight and then some! He was having so much fun that he didn't even want to go to bed. He busily played with his toys till midnight, talking on his toy car, which I guess he deemed his new cell phone, to his girlfriend Abby and his grandma, Nana. It was adorable. All you could understand was ".....[baby talk, baby talk, baby talk]... Hi, Abby!....[baby talk, baby talk, baby talk]... Hi, Nana!....'Kay, bye!" After the countdown, Eddie got out some of those party poppers. We were a little weary as whether we should even pop them since we didn't know how Ben would react. Eddie gave it a try and much to our suprise, Ben wasn't scared. In fact, he loved them. He cracked up and threw himself on the floor laughing at the n&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SWAPZ0sKZII/AAAAAAAAAGw/kB_ckz9xm4A/s1600-h/S4022671.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287242898847982722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SWAPZ0sKZII/AAAAAAAAAGw/kB_ckz9xm4A/s320/S4022671.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;oise and the streamers going everywhere. I'm sure it helped that he was tired and a little slap-happy, ya know? I think we all were. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;P.S. The title is Happy Boo Year, because Boo is one of Ben's many many nicknames. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.P.S. New Year's resolutions? Yeah, we don't do that I guess. Eddie doesn't believe in them and I am too busy to think about more goals to set up for myself. Not satisfied? Hmm, how about our hopes for 2009? We hope we can have a safe and great year, go to the temple more, and have another baby. :)&lt;/p&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/1402778325950102241-5237831771059276706?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=660f034fe73716ea&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5237831771059276706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5237831771059276706' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5237831771059276706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5237831771059276706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-boo-year.html' title='Happy Boo Year!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SWAPaYulWBI/AAAAAAAAAG4/6CFMnLjB6vg/s72-c/S4022673.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5165665185815386663</id><published>2008-12-10T07:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T08:57:45.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All about the Eddie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ST_00TxoFCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/1SJGfDyCUDw/s1600-h/us.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278206467800306722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 289px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ST_00TxoFCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/1SJGfDyCUDw/s320/us.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ALL YOU'VE EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT EDDIE:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is your husband's name? Edward G. Moure (c'mon, ask me what the G stands for...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How long have you been married? 2 1/2 years. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How long did you date? We dated for 6 months before my mission. Our relationship was "on hold" during that year and a half. So much so that we were engaged 4 days after I returned. We were married 6 weeks later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When did you meet? First in high school, then years later at a mutual friend's get-together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What were your first thoughts? "He is so cute... doh! I have a boyfriend."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What/where was your first date? It wasn't an official date. He took me to do rock-wall climbing and then we went to play vball with everyone at church and then went to Denny's at 11pm with Little Heather.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How old were both of you? I was 21 and he was 20.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When did he/she meet your family? Um, I'm not sure. I think we all played Apples to Apples together and he won my dad over with racial self-deprecating jokes. Haha. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How old is he? 11 months younger than me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who is taller? He is by about 4 inches. He still doesn't like it when I wear my stilettos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who can sing best? Eddie can and it's not just because all my Brazilian companions called him a Backstreet Boy... hehe...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who is smarter? Depends on the subject matter. He is excellent with history, government, politics, etc. I excel in English, math and the arts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who does laundry? Just me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who does the dishes? I put them in the dishwasher and Eddie puts them away. Teamwork!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who pays the bills? He does. I can't bring myself to do it. Really, I can't. I'm in charge of one bill a month and I still don't like to pay it. Is there a disorder for that? Pretty sure it's called Financial Phobia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who mows the lawn? What lawn?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who cooks dinner? I would say 50-50. We love breakfast foods and tacos; he makes yummy chorizo w/ eggs, over-cheesys, Mr. Miyagis and taco meat. However, I have been cooking more lately... in fact, I made some super yummy meatball subs on Sunday!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? Usually Eddie, but I am trying to be better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who kissed who first? I say that I did. He disagrees. I really did kiss him first though. He took too long to do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who wears the pants? Hmmm, I think Eddie lets me think that I do (he calls it "choosing his battles") but I really do believe that he is the patriarch of the family and I respect that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5165665185815386663?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5165665185815386663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5165665185815386663' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5165665185815386663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5165665185815386663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/12/all-about-eddie.html' title='All about the Eddie'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/ST_00TxoFCI/AAAAAAAAAGo/1SJGfDyCUDw/s72-c/us.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-6633727548905489493</id><published>2008-12-03T07:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T12:22:57.687-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adaptation of the Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275661697606520418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/STbqXMD4jmI/AAAAAAAAAGg/F92VJ13W2Io/s320/bum.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Yesterday as I was driving home from work with Benjamin, I thought to myself: "Nikki, you and Ben should plan a day to go to the park." Well, at second glance at this thought, something struck me. I had to &lt;em&gt;plan&lt;/em&gt; to go to the park? Ok, ok. I like to plan things, alright? That part I knew. But &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/STbqPOxD9dI/AAAAAAAAAGY/CMkJ6fC1_uQ/s1600-h/Sonoran_Mountain_Ranch4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275661560893928914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/STbqPOxD9dI/AAAAAAAAAGY/CMkJ6fC1_uQ/s320/Sonoran_Mountain_Ranch4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;was this helping me get more done? You know, it was then that I realized that my constant desire to have things planned out was actually &lt;em&gt;keeping&lt;/em&gt; me from getting things done. Huh. By demanding that it all be planned out, I was constantly pushing activities out of today and into tomorrow. It was then that I decided. "I don't need a reason to go to the park. It takes a reason not to go and I don't have one of those. We're going to the park, Ben." And go to the park we did. :) The End.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-6633727548905489493?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/6633727548905489493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=6633727548905489493' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6633727548905489493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6633727548905489493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/12/adaptation-of-mind.html' title='Adaptation of the Mind'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/STbqXMD4jmI/AAAAAAAAAGg/F92VJ13W2Io/s72-c/bum.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-4347793379557805638</id><published>2008-12-01T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T09:46:28.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I survived Black Friday!</title><content type='html'>The whole week of Thanksgiving I was sick. Heck, I didn't even get out of bed on Wednesday. However, I had promised myself that I was going to participate in Black Friday and get up early to do some shopping no matter how many DayQuils I had to take. :) I forgot to buy Nyquil that night and consequently didn't fall asleep until about 12:30am. My alarm clock promptly woke me up at 3:30am. Amazingly, I was able to fall out of bed, shower, and head out the door by 4:15am. I picked up my friend, Tiffany, and together we waited in line at Target for an hour before they opened at 6am. Good thing we got there when we did; about 100+ people arrived shortly after we did tripling the length of the line. The time was passed by chatting about perspective deals amongst ourselves and our fellow linewaiters. I have to admit I was scared as we were let into the store; some people had a vicious killer look in their eye as they ran toward the special deals of the day. Aside from the lady who repeated rammed my ankles with her cart while complaining that I needed to "push my way through" the 50-something carts that were blocking in the aisle, I had a good time. We successfully shopped Target and Walmart. I have to admit though that I was exhausted by the end of it. Of course, that didn't stop me from going to the outlet mall later with Eddie. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, not a bad experience. My secret? Stay away from the stores anywhere close to the mall. We went to the recently built Target and Walmart out on Lake Pleasant Pkwy and I think that is what saved us. Smart thinking, Nikki.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-4347793379557805638?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/4347793379557805638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=4347793379557805638' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/4347793379557805638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/4347793379557805638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-survived-black-friday.html' title='I survived Black Friday!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-7885365221423400932</id><published>2008-11-25T10:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T10:25:08.411-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"I don't feel so good."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSxCnVmIE5I/AAAAAAAAAGI/qfzwW0Pcyio/s1600-h/sick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272662507323397010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 59px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSxCnVmIE5I/AAAAAAAAAGI/qfzwW0Pcyio/s320/sick.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This whole past week I felt like I was coming down with something and the funny thing is I watched it happen to Ben at the same time. We both started out with runny noses, stuffiness, aching, and now yucky coughs and an overall crappy feeling. Just in time for Thanksgiving! Yay. Last night, I was up with him at about one in the morning. He would cough so hard that you could hear it scratch and strain his throat muscles. He would put his hand on his neck, look at me with sad, sad eyes that were full of tears, and whimper a dejected: "Oooh..." Broke my heart. I don't even think I care anymore if I am sick; I just want my baby to feel better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-7885365221423400932?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/7885365221423400932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=7885365221423400932' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/7885365221423400932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/7885365221423400932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-dont-feel-so-good.html' title='&quot;I don&apos;t feel so good.&quot;'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSxCnVmIE5I/AAAAAAAAAGI/qfzwW0Pcyio/s72-c/sick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-6832929466496312358</id><published>2008-11-19T08:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T10:09:11.468-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's my opus?</title><content type='html'>This morning I drove to work alone. I normally carpool with Eddie and Benjamin, but today is Eddie's day off so the boys stayed home. That meant that I could listen to whatever music I wanted. This would typically consist of Christmas music (you know, I had a nightmare last night that they stopped playing Christmas music? Talk about &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU01Wmq0I/AAAAAAAAAFw/Nf0Psh17pPo/s1600-h/yan.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270430730582141762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 90px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 90px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU01Wmq0I/AAAAAAAAAFw/Nf0Psh17pPo/s200/yan.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;scary!), but since they were on commercial, I popped in my Ultimate Yanni CD. Yeah, ok, I'm lame, but I like it, ok? As I was grooving to my Yanni music, my mind began to wander and tangentilize (real word?). Ever have that happen? It happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I thought about what it took to compose such beautiful music and what a gift that would be to hear a song in your head and be able to express it on paper in notes and sheet music and then create it with a 50+ piece orchestra. How amazing would that feel? I don't know if any of you have directed an orchestra or choir, but I had the opportunity to do that in Brazil for a Christmas concert we put on at the local mall. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU4jdJXmI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DjHI4E72uWQ/s1600-h/mr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270430794497220194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 90px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 90px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU4jdJXmI/AAAAAAAAAGA/DjHI4E72uWQ/s200/mr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There were hundreds of people watching and I was able to direct a missionary choir that I had helped organize and put together. I remember the feeling of standing up in front of all these people. I felt so accomplished. Then I thought of Mr. Holland's Opus and August Rush and how with their music, every piece of their life brought something different and something unique to their life's work: their Magnum Opus (Charlotte's Web fans, you know this phrase). How many people can say that their whole life culminated to one encompassing masterpiece? Can you imagine?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So this morning, I decided that I want a Magnum Opus. I guess I still have some years to determine what it will be exactly. Will it be through music, words, or art? Maybe it will be through my children or my patients I will see when I'm a counselor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What will yours be? What part of your life can you make your greatest masterpiece? What is your Magnum Opus?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU0x9ZzWI/AAAAAAAAAF4/r4YA0XzN0W0/s1600-h/opus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270430729671134562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU0x9ZzWI/AAAAAAAAAF4/r4YA0XzN0W0/s200/opus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;magnum opus n. A great work, especially a literary or artistic masterpiece. The greatest single work of an artist, writer, or composer.&lt;/span&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/1402778325950102241-6832929466496312358?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/6832929466496312358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=6832929466496312358' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6832929466496312358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6832929466496312358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/11/wheres-my-opus.html' title='Where&apos;s my opus?'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SSRU01Wmq0I/AAAAAAAAAFw/Nf0Psh17pPo/s72-c/yan.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-8746904976078136510</id><published>2008-11-12T07:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T08:31:36.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey through the desert, to the Promised Land</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsC0Nwq4eI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Fuba06aO3hI/s1600-h/ruidoso6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267807285210178018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsC0Nwq4eI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Fuba06aO3hI/s200/ruidoso6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This past weekend, Eddie, Ben, and I traveled across the mind-numbingly boring highway through New Mexico to visit Eddie's dad's side of the family in beautiful Ruidoso. It was well worth the vast emptiness that is southern New Mexico. I had prepared for the trip by printing out MapQuest instructions and three maps. We followed the directions to a T and found ourselves offroading in the middle of a forest. Our vehicle, a Honda CRV, may look like an SUV, but it is, in fact, not. It is just a taller version of a Honda Civic. So there we are, stuck in the middle of the woods trying to follow these directions in an area where the dirt, uneven roads have no signs and it was beginning to get dark. I started to feel very uneasy and urged Eddie to &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCBc4CU6I/AAAAAAAAAFA/4BYhY2WjDvk/s1600-h/ruidoso2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267806413094278050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCBc4CU6I/AAAAAAAAAFA/4BYhY2WjDvk/s320/ruidoso2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;turn around. It took awhile since the roads were so narrow and we didn't want to end up stuck in a ditch or anything. We finally got back to the main road and called the condo/lodge. They proceded to tell us that &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCgcnp-qI/AAAAAAAAAFg/N4fRjG_daf8/s1600-h/ruidoso3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267806945601518242" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCgcnp-qI/AAAAAAAAAFg/N4fRjG_daf8/s200/ruidoso3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;we had taken the back way to the condos and that it was probably a good thing we turned around since not many vehicles can get through that area. With new instructions, we were able to find the condos, but not without greeting many a wildlife creature on our way up the mountain. My reaction?&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCgPz2R-I/AAAAAAAAAFY/R8u9KwqjVco/s1600-h/Ruidoso1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267806942162995170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCgPz2R-I/AAAAAAAAAFY/R8u9KwqjVco/s200/Ruidoso1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "Holy crap! There's a deer! It's a real flippin' deer!!" Yeah, ok, maybe I hadn't been out of the city for a while. We probably saw 30 something deer while up there and the whole time I could only think of how yummy they would taste (Thanks a lot, Heather and Brett!). The condos we stayed at were located up in &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCBeHUXpI/AAAAAAAAAFI/a35pTSWVyOs/s1600-h/ruidoso7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267806413426810514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsCBeHUXpI/AAAAAAAAAFI/a35pTSWVyOs/s320/ruidoso7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;the mountains and offered a fantastic view of the scenery and local lake. We spent time with the Texas side of the family and had a great time eating home-cooked &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsBUDo0-aI/AAAAAAAAAEw/_tkNyvRZ1A8/s1600-h/ruidoso7.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;meals, painting Fernie's fingernails whilst he slept, and playing Rummikib and Catch Phrase. Seriously, I had not laughed that hard and that long for a while. Good times. Unfortunately, we only had time for a three-day weekend and it seemed that we had to leave almost as soon as we got there. :( It was still oh-so-nice to see the family again and hopefully it won't be so long till we see them again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-8746904976078136510?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/8746904976078136510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=8746904976078136510' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8746904976078136510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8746904976078136510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/11/journey-through-desert-to-promised-land.html' title='Journey through the desert, to the Promised Land'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRsC0Nwq4eI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Fuba06aO3hI/s72-c/ruidoso6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1679787567399497720</id><published>2008-11-05T06:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T09:48:46.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If you give a Democrat a cookie...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRG3uvcKTfI/AAAAAAAAAD4/SQiaxs0NjwI/s1600-h/mouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265191453009268210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 287px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRG3uvcKTfI/AAAAAAAAAD4/SQiaxs0NjwI/s320/mouse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6633ff;"&gt;This morning I woke up and got ready like any other day. Halfway through my shower, I remembered last night's events. A wave of sadness swept over me. I never felt any anger. Just disappointment. Disappointment in the fact that I guess I really thought that more people felt like me. I thought more people valued the family structure, supported the life of an unborn child, and had integrity when it came to personal work ethic. I had suffered from what psychologists call faulty consensus bias.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#6633ff;"&gt;I'm really hoping that what Bruce Jacobs and head of the Arizona Republican party said on KFYI this morning is true: that a big portion of those who voted for Obama did so because they were tired of a Republican leader, not because of his ideas and beliefs. That makes sense since many of his followers were not very familiar with his campaign stance. Jacobs asserted that perhaps this blind support might change now that the Democrats have control and that many of Obama's supporters won't allow him to run crazy with his socialistic and liberal extremist policies. If that's the case, then I am fine. I wasn't worried about having Obama as President; I was worried about what he might do. So if his fellow Democrats are willing to disagree with him occasionally and stop this country from becoming socialistic, then I think we might be ok. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#6633ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#6633ff;"&gt;Here is something to uplift those who feel like I do: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"To all who suffer—to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely—I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in. Never surrender. Never allow despair to overcome your spirit. Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart." (President Uchtdorf)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1679787567399497720?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1679787567399497720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1679787567399497720' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1679787567399497720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1679787567399497720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/11/if-you-give-democrat-cookie.html' title='If you give a Democrat a cookie...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRG3uvcKTfI/AAAAAAAAAD4/SQiaxs0NjwI/s72-c/mouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2727804110798802621</id><published>2008-11-04T10:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T10:55:09.457-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok, now that's funny!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCag4CEKjI/AAAAAAAAADw/69fclZbn8QU/s1600-h/obama3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264877853983648306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCag4CEKjI/AAAAAAAAADw/69fclZbn8QU/s400/obama3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCagxF52VI/AAAAAAAAADo/cdXJO5SQ0L4/s1600-h/obama2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264877852120701266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCagxF52VI/AAAAAAAAADo/cdXJO5SQ0L4/s400/obama2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCagSolaiI/AAAAAAAAADg/y-ZqBah2vEs/s1600-h/obama1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264877843944663586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCagSolaiI/AAAAAAAAADg/y-ZqBah2vEs/s400/obama1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCagalHAiI/AAAAAAAAADY/51MlV5X26QA/s1600-h/Obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264877846077571618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCagalHAiI/AAAAAAAAADY/51MlV5X26QA/s400/Obama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/1402778325950102241-2727804110798802621?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2727804110798802621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2727804110798802621' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2727804110798802621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2727804110798802621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/11/ok-now-thats-funny.html' title='Ok, now that&apos;s funny!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRCag4CEKjI/AAAAAAAAADw/69fclZbn8QU/s72-c/obama3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-3780522979867308290</id><published>2008-11-04T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T07:11:41.820-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Make it count!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRBlgXhLNdI/AAAAAAAAADQ/mFaS5X5tepI/s1600-h/header6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264819571139491282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 79px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRBlgXhLNdI/AAAAAAAAADQ/mFaS5X5tepI/s400/header6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Today is the day to vote. Do it. I've heard so many people say, "Well, the polls show this and that... It doesn't matter." Whatever happened to making a difference? I've also heard people complain about the predicted long lines. Well, if you are willing to stand in line at Disneyland for over an hour to ride Space Mountain for 2 minutes, then you should be willing to exercise your duty as a citizen to vote once every 4 years. Oh, and if you don't vote, you are not allowed to say anything when the election is over. No complaining or whining. Only voters can do that. So get off your duff, go stand in super long lines, and cast your vote for the candidate of your choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/1402778325950102241-3780522979867308290?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/3780522979867308290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=3780522979867308290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3780522979867308290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3780522979867308290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/11/make-it-count.html' title='Make it count!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SRBlgXhLNdI/AAAAAAAAADQ/mFaS5X5tepI/s72-c/header6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5696457404947182138</id><published>2008-10-31T13:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T14:22:47.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween= Nothing to do</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;So Halloween is a good and fun holiday, but it makes it very difficult for me to get work done. Here at an elementary school, kids do not do any work. This means that I cannot help them with their work and therefore have nothing to do. I'm so bored. And hungry... but that is another story. Here is a Halloween survey since I can't get onto my myspace page on my work computer:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What are you going to be for Halloween this year? Undecided... either Joe the Plumber or Sarah Palin... doing what I can to help people remember to vote.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Will you be making your costume yourself? Why, yes, I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What was your best Halloween costume? Two years ago, I was Miss Conception since I was preggo and everything. I remember dressing up as Ernie when I was a kid and I totally loved that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What was your worst Halloween costume? Probably the ones that I can't remember. They must have been that lame.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Will you be having a Halloween party this year? I wish. No room at our inn. That's ok, we have other plans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;How many houses will you trick or treat at? None! Yay for Trunk or Treating. It's good for us lazy and paranoid parents who don't want or like to go house to house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What is the best thing you have received when trick or treating? Full size candy bars. Gotta love those rich neighborhoods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What is the worst thing you have received when trick or treating? Those stupid candies wrapped in orange or black paper. They are always hard as a rock. I couldn't even tell you what they were supposed to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Have you ever performed a trick for not getting a treat? Well, does TP-ing count?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Have you ever watched scary movies at Halloween? Of course. It wouldn't be Halloween if we didn't. But nothing too scary, I'm kind of a baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Do you get afraid during Halloween night? No, should I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What was your best Halloween memory? My mom and dad used to decorate for Halloween and that was always special. Also, I remember when we were in junior high and Valerie ratted her hair out, hairsprayed the heck out of it, and colored it (green, I think). I remember we were all running for some reason and she fell and killed a bug with her hair alone. It was pretty great.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What was your worst Halloween memory? I think I remember getting teased by older kids. That always sucked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Do you decorate your house for Halloween? No, I am too busy getting ready for Christmas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;How much candy do you buy to give out at Halloween? A bag. Maybe two.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;What is your favorite Halloween monster? "Igor." "No, it's pronounced 'eye-gor.'" "But they told me it was 'ee-gor'." "Well, they were wrong then, weren't they?"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5696457404947182138?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5696457404947182138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5696457404947182138' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5696457404947182138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5696457404947182138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween-nothing-to-fo.html' title='Halloween= Nothing to do'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5869172749937289141</id><published>2008-10-31T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T10:56:29.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Prayer for Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#3333ff;"&gt;In light of the election and economical issues, Billy Graham has offered the following prayer: 'Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance.  We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,'  but that is exactly what we have done.  We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.  We have killed our unborn and called it choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.  We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem.  We have abused power and called it politics. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.  We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.   We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.  Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and Set us free. Amen!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5869172749937289141?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5869172749937289141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5869172749937289141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5869172749937289141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5869172749937289141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/prayer-for-today.html' title='A Prayer for Today'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5008608856140226077</id><published>2008-10-30T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T12:37:04.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Define Femininity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQoMjNKPXtI/AAAAAAAAAC4/8-BDsIIv7zE/s1600-h/mom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263032913503411922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQoMjNKPXtI/AAAAAAAAAC4/8-BDsIIv7zE/s320/mom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;In the talk, The Joy of Womanhood, Margaret D. Nadauld, a previous Young Women General President, says:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;President Faust observed that femininity “is the divine adornment of humanity. It finds expression in your … capacity to love, your spirituality, delicacy, radiance, sensitivity, creativity, charm, graciousness, gentleness, dignity, and quiet strength. It is manifest differently in each girl or woman, but each … possesses it. Femininity is part of your inner beauty.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/1402778325950102241-5008608856140226077?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5008608856140226077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5008608856140226077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5008608856140226077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5008608856140226077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/define-femininity.html' title='Define Femininity'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQoMjNKPXtI/AAAAAAAAAC4/8-BDsIIv7zE/s72-c/mom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-8832124996936895334</id><published>2008-10-29T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T10:51:44.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections of Christ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQihb7VLRHI/AAAAAAAAACw/vgjT0Kpm_FY/s1600-h/rc_test01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262633665737475186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQihb7VLRHI/AAAAAAAAACw/vgjT0Kpm_FY/s320/rc_test01.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I had to share this slideshow. I know several of you have already seen it, but I had to display it so others could have the chance to see it as well. These are beautiful photographs depicting Christ's life. They are already available to purchase at deseretbooks.com on DVD, CD, and text.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Mesa Arizona LDS Temple's &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;visitor center is currently displaying a beautiful collection of images created by Mark Mabry entitled &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.reflectionsofchrist.org/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Reflections of Christ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. With daily visitor counts as high as 1,000 people, the exhibit is attracting a lot of attention. Mabry's images brilliantly capture both the humanity and grandeur of Jesus and His ministry. The following slideshow, created by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.camerontrejofilms.com/Home.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Cameron Trejo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;, includes every image in the exhibit along with a beautiful arrangement of &lt;em&gt;Come Thou Fount&lt;/em&gt; performed by Clyde Bawden and Freddie Ashby."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't already seen it, go to the website to see the slideshow which is under the heading &lt;em&gt;Video&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://76.163.100.54/index.html"&gt;http://76.163.100.54/index.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-8832124996936895334?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/8832124996936895334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=8832124996936895334' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8832124996936895334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8832124996936895334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/reflections-of-christ.html' title='Reflections of Christ'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQihb7VLRHI/AAAAAAAAACw/vgjT0Kpm_FY/s72-c/rc_test01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-8806665133481759703</id><published>2008-10-27T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T10:03:33.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's the most wonderful time of the year.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQXyknwGQtI/AAAAAAAAACg/6ngnM2IYTzk/s1600-h/multiholiday.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261878450612224722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQXyknwGQtI/AAAAAAAAACg/6ngnM2IYTzk/s320/multiholiday.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;With this week being the week of Halloween and the beginning of November, I begin to prepare myself for the most anticipated holiday, Christmas! Like I mentioned earlier, Eddie has decided to allow me to get out my holiday decorations early this year (mostly because he probably doesn't want to hear me whine anymore). Now as I am getting my holiday decor out and primed, I wish we had the space for a large Christmas party. The past couple of years Eddie's work had provided a beautiful semi-formal Christmas party and I just thought it was the greatest thing. This year Eddie is at a new job that employs over 3000 people so a company Christmas party is out of the question. So lame. How do I get my holiday party fix? Our apartment is too small for the party I have envisioned. So sad and so lame. Well, I guess it'll just have to wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-8806665133481759703?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/8806665133481759703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=8806665133481759703' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8806665133481759703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8806665133481759703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-most-wonderful-time-of-year.html' title='It&apos;s the most wonderful time of the year.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQXyknwGQtI/AAAAAAAAACg/6ngnM2IYTzk/s72-c/multiholiday.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-894615246664319120</id><published>2008-10-24T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T08:07:14.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQHjshvbpbI/AAAAAAAAACY/h982bcWV59Y/s1600-h/Obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260736193856513458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQHjshvbpbI/AAAAAAAAACY/h982bcWV59Y/s320/Obama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Remember kids, if Obama were in charge of Halloween, he would take the candy you worked hard for and give to the kids who stayed home and did nothing. Scary, eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-894615246664319120?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/894615246664319120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=894615246664319120' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/894615246664319120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/894615246664319120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween!'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SQHjshvbpbI/AAAAAAAAACY/h982bcWV59Y/s72-c/Obama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-6172318831767915448</id><published>2008-10-22T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T08:08:21.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These are the days.</title><content type='html'>Wow. So Benjamin is now almost 20 months old. He's almost at that age when I'm not supposed to count it by months. Eh, maybe I will just keep doing it anyway. "Hi, yeah, this is my son... he's 49 &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_PbWdGkdI/AAAAAAAAACQ/UuewqXgn-Fw/s1600-h/S4022606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260150958583091666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_PbWdGkdI/AAAAAAAAACQ/UuewqXgn-Fw/s200/S4022606.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;months old..."  Ok, maybe not. He is just so much fun these days. Yeah, he's got an attitude on him, but it's really only when it comes to food which he takes very, very seriously. I think he gets that from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, Benjamin has hit a growth spurt in his personality. He makes jokes all the time that only he understands and cracks up at them. He is always smiling and laughing. He loves to smile for the camera too. He gives sweet kisses and super tight hugs where he sees how tight he can squeeze you. He loves his stuffed animals and will hug them and rock them in his arms. His new thing is that Eddie and I have to give his Pup-pup (stuffed animal puppy) and/or his teddy bear kisses goodnight. I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being a mom and it has taken our new working situation to make me realize how precious every day is. I just can't get enough of my kid. I look forward to the prospect of staying home and watching my son along with a couple of other kids. Though it might be difficult, it would definitely worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260150954896193330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_PbIuE9zI/AAAAAAAAACI/AI-1m__w0vs/s200/S4022621.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;President Joseph F. Smith said on one occasion: “After all, to do well those things which God ordained to be the common lot of all man-kind, is the truest greatness. To be a successful father or a successful mother is greater than to be a successful general or a successful statesman. One is universal and eternal greatness, the other is ephemeral” (Gospel Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1939, p. 285).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The above picture shows Ben sitting in his old baby carseat which he now deems as his recliner. He likes to sit in it and watch Disney movies, something we don't get to do much anymore. The second picture shows Ben doing what Ben does best: EATING. C'mon. That is a seriously happy face. All it took was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Simple pleasures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-6172318831767915448?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/6172318831767915448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=6172318831767915448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6172318831767915448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6172318831767915448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/these-are-days.html' title='These are the days.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_PbWdGkdI/AAAAAAAAACQ/UuewqXgn-Fw/s72-c/S4022606.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2950811804056692890</id><published>2008-10-22T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T18:16:08.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"If you want to destroy my sweater..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_NcVSMQxI/AAAAAAAAABo/s1OwMbGh28I/s1600-h/S4022613.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260148776425505554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_NcVSMQxI/AAAAAAAAABo/s1OwMbGh28I/s200/S4022613.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Last Saturday, Eddie and I went on our first date in months. Between our combined two jobs, school, soccer games, and callings, we are barely able to make enough time for our little family. This means that we hardly &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; get time for ourselves. Anyway, we were able to go to the Arizona State Fair and see a concert: Angels &amp;amp; Airwaves and Weezer. I was more excited&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_OFkSmjmI/AAAAAAAAACA/KgK8fPTldT0/s1600-h/S4022615.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260149484828397154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_OFkSmjmI/AAAAAAAAACA/KgK8fPTldT0/s200/S4022615.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; about Weezer so after an hour of Angels and Airwaves, I was pretty bored. Weezer finally came on though and totally rocked! I hadn't seen them since 2001. While the show was rather simple, being a state fair and all, the lights, the deep booming bass that shakes your core, the thumping of the drums, the hilarious dancing, matching jogging suits, and the oh-so catchy tunes that I know and love made it all worth it! Oh and P.S. The lead singer? Totally going bald. Our vantage point gave us the perfect view of it. Anyway, since the show had started so late, we waited around just long enough to hear our favs: The Sweater Song, So It Ain't So, Hash Pipe, Troublemaker, and Eddie's fav, Pork &amp;amp; Beans. Aft&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_NcgddsKI/AAAAAAAAABw/7-fl_HaioH0/s1600-h/S4022612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260148779425575074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_NcgddsKI/AAAAAAAAABw/7-fl_HaioH0/s200/S4022612.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;er that, we cruised the fair and took advantage of the best feature of the state fair: disgustingly greasy fair food. We had fresh lemonade, a corn dog the size of my arm, and deep-fried oreo cookies covered in powdered sugar and chocolate sauce. Yeah, I know. That last one doesn't sound so good... and you know what? It wasn't. Hanging out with Eddie was fun though. So much so that I didn't even mind when I was up sick all night because of the questionable food we ate. Seriously though, all in all, I had fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2950811804056692890?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2950811804056692890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2950811804056692890' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2950811804056692890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2950811804056692890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/if-you-want-to-destroy-my-sweater.html' title='&quot;If you want to destroy my sweater...&quot;'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SP_NcVSMQxI/AAAAAAAAABo/s1OwMbGh28I/s72-c/S4022613.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5931622954238309987</id><published>2008-10-20T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T07:49:57.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Animals vs. People (Many have made their choice)</title><content type='html'>So last night, Eddie and I watched an episode of Trading Spouses. Not something we usually do. We were intrigued by one of the wives who was a devout vegan, meaning that she does not use any part of any animal in everything she does. IE She does not eat meat, drink milk or any other dairy product, eat eggs or fish. She also refuses to wear leather, fur, or use any other product or byproduct of animals. This includes her household cleaning materials, home furniture, etc. She was so adament about health and taking care of your body and loving your environment and all animals to the extent that she was intolerant to other people's viewpoints and beliefs. She was rude and mean. Ironically enough, she smoked, drank, was borderline verbally abusive to her "new" family, as well as her own family, and practically beat her "new" family's dog. Interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night, I read a post from someone I know that is pro-abortion. The whole bulletin talked about how McCain doesn't know women because he called abortion extreme. It got me thinking. There are a good number of Democratics who are environmentalists ("take care of our world"), vegetarians or vegans ("take care of our animals"), anti-gun ("don't hurt anyone"), and/or animal-rights activists (again with the "take care of animals"). What I can't understand is how these people who profess to &lt;em&gt;love all these things&lt;/em&gt; are still able to say that it is ok to kill an unborn child, or as Obama called it, "a punishment?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, how can this belief, to be pro-choice, be considered a part of feminism, when it negates the very core of what it means to be a woman? That is to be kind, gentle, self-less, strong and responsible, and, above all else, to be a mother? Such a belief deadens motherly instincts to love and protect. I'm sorry, but I am disgusted by the fact that so many people would rather chain themselves to a tree or refuse to eat a cow than to protect another human life. How can this be? What is happening? Where are our values? What happened to the sancity of home, family, and love before selfishness, trends, and pride?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5931622954238309987?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5931622954238309987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5931622954238309987' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5931622954238309987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5931622954238309987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/animals-vs-people-many-have-made-their.html' title='Animals vs. People (Many have made their choice)'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2007520745802956569</id><published>2008-10-15T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T10:24:49.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Gotta Love Abe... Lincoln, that is.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SPYklBS9Q2I/AAAAAAAAABg/xs_qsgBNpts/s1600-h/Bumper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257429833423340386" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SPYklBS9Q2I/AAAAAAAAABg/xs_qsgBNpts/s200/Bumper.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; As we drove to work yesterday morning, Eddie and I listened to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;KFYI&lt;/span&gt;, much like we always do. If you don't know what station that is, all you need to know is that Rush is on it. :) Anyway, Sean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Hannity&lt;/span&gt; read the following quote by Lincoln and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Boetcker&lt;/span&gt; and how it applied to liberal views:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.&lt;br /&gt;You cannot help small men by tearing down big men. &lt;div&gt;You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot lift the wage-earner by pulling down the wage-payer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot help the poor man by destroying the rich. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot establish security on borrowed money. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot build character and courage by taking away men's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;initiative and&lt;/span&gt; independence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they could and should do for themselves."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only are those quotes relevant to everyday society, but politically speaking, I can think of an instance involving a Democrat or Democratic legislature for every one of those quotes. I hope you all are registered to vote. Remember your values and not just passing trends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/1402778325950102241-2007520745802956569?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2007520745802956569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2007520745802956569' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2007520745802956569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2007520745802956569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/you-gotta-love-abe-lincoln-that-is.html' title='You Gotta Love Abe... Lincoln, that is.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SPYklBS9Q2I/AAAAAAAAABg/xs_qsgBNpts/s72-c/Bumper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5521049805211515725</id><published>2008-10-10T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T11:24:11.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So much to do, so little time</title><content type='html'>I was thinking the other day about old school assignments that I have had. I guess that is what comes from working at an elementary school; I always found myself reminisncing about books I read, projects I made, tests I took, and papers I wrote. Heck, I still remember that in 1st grade we took a spelling test and I spelled the word "Washington" incorrectly. It made me mad because the teacher pronounced it "Washing&lt;em&gt;ten&lt;/em&gt;," not "Washing&lt;em&gt;ton&lt;/em&gt;." Anyway, one assignment in particular cross my mind yesterday. The teacher asked the students to make a list of things they wanted to accomplish in their lifetime. I still remember some of mine. I really wanted to be on Jeopardy. Anyway, here is a list of 25 things I want to accomplish that I just compiled at age 25:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I want to do all the genealogy that I can.&lt;br /&gt;2. I want to dance with my husband in the pouring rain.&lt;br /&gt;3. I want to put my feet on European soil.&lt;br /&gt;4. I want to write a book (publishing is optional).&lt;br /&gt;5. I want to mother at least 3 children.&lt;br /&gt;6. I would like to get my doctorate. I want people to call me Dr. Moure.&lt;br /&gt;7. I want to serve another mission, but this time with Eddie.&lt;br /&gt;8. I want to see Brazil again.&lt;br /&gt;9. I want to take a cruise. Anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;10. I want to successfully develop a musical talent.&lt;br /&gt;11. I want be a motivational speaker and go on a public speaking circuit for the church.&lt;br /&gt;12. I still want to appear on a game show.&lt;br /&gt;13. I want to visit 50 different temples. I have already visited 5. Whew, 45 to go.&lt;br /&gt;14. Go to at least one concert a year (it's Weezer this year, baby! Az State Fair... wanna come?).&lt;br /&gt;15. I want to take a last minute vacation and just go!&lt;br /&gt;16. I want to see New York at Christmas time.&lt;br /&gt;17. I wanna visit Machu Piccu. Thanks, Travel channel!&lt;br /&gt;18. I want to buy a house with at least 3-4 acres. Not too big, not too small.&lt;br /&gt;19. I want to drive to Alaska just one more time!&lt;br /&gt;20. I want to give out at least one Book of Mormon a year with my testimony inside.&lt;br /&gt;21. I want to visit all 50 states. I've already seen 13.&lt;br /&gt;22. I want to do a 10K marathon.&lt;br /&gt;23. Be friends again, or at least speaking terms, with everyone I have lost touch with.&lt;br /&gt;24. Own a motorcycle again.&lt;br /&gt;25. Be a foster mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5521049805211515725?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5521049805211515725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5521049805211515725' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5521049805211515725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5521049805211515725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/so-much-to-do-so-little-time.html' title='So much to do, so little time'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1272430899526374599</id><published>2008-10-08T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T08:07:58.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm makin' a list... checkin' it twice.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SOzMq7KPLsI/AAAAAAAAABY/CVJ-3auz2YY/s1600-h/hollyornament.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254799903041728194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SOzMq7KPLsI/AAAAAAAAABY/CVJ-3auz2YY/s200/hollyornament.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So Christmas is just around the corner. Of course, I have been saying that since this past July. With only 80 something days left, one thought has plagued my mind ... decorating for Christmas! I have been begging Eddie to let me put up some lights, a little garland, and perhaps even a Christmas tree, but to no avail. Eddie says that the Christmas season does not begin until after Thanksgiving. I explained to him that that is the official start, but the preseason begins now when department stores and grocery stores start making room for their holiday merchandise. I think I am slowing wearing him down. I have already begun to buy Christmas decorations, but am not allowed to display them until the first week of November. Sigh. Perhaps it would help if I start playing Christmas carols in our home. Heehee.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1272430899526374599?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1272430899526374599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1272430899526374599' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1272430899526374599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1272430899526374599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-makin-list-checkin-it-twice.html' title='I&apos;m makin&apos; a list... checkin&apos; it twice.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SOzMq7KPLsI/AAAAAAAAABY/CVJ-3auz2YY/s72-c/hollyornament.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-4584573414289111286</id><published>2008-10-07T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T08:02:35.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All good things... go to Alabama???</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so I recently found out that my great day care provider is moving away to Alabama. :( At least she is staying until the week of Thanksgiving, but after that, Eddie and I have no idea what we are gonna do. Can we find someone else to watch Ben? Should I stay home and end up watching my friends' kids? Regular day care is way too expensive; our day care provider gave us a ridiculously good rate. Anyone know someone nearby that might wanna watch my kid?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-4584573414289111286?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/4584573414289111286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=4584573414289111286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/4584573414289111286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/4584573414289111286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/10/all-good-things-go-to-alabama.html' title='All good things... go to Alabama???'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1508363980234136626</id><published>2008-09-30T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T08:09:10.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Temptation Too Great...</title><content type='html'>So I just found out that my blog is one of the few websites at work that is NOT blocked!! Yay! I am going to have to be careful and not have too much fun with this. Well, today, I just wanted to talk about how awesome I think cognitive therapy is! I am currently taking Counseling Theories at Argosy (my first class in my first semester in my Master's in Mental Health Counseling program at Argosy [wow, that's a lot of prepositions]) and we recently covered behavioral therapy and cognitive therapy (which I have studied in the past on my own). Honestly, it is truly amazing how becoming aware of one's thoughts (especially your automatic thoughts) and how they affect your reactions and behavior can change you. For example, Albert Ellis, the grandfather of cognitive therapy, believed in the ABC model, as seen below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A. Something happens.&lt;br /&gt;B. You have a belief about the situation.&lt;br /&gt;C. You have an emotional reaction to the belief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. Your employer falsely accuses you of taking money from her purse and threatens to fire you.&lt;br /&gt;B. You believe, “She has no right to accuse me. She's a horrible person!”&lt;br /&gt;C. You feel angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you had held a different belief, your emotional response would have been different: A. Your employer falsely accuses you of taking money from her purse and threatens to fire you.&lt;br /&gt;B. You believe, “I must not lose my job. That would be unbearable.”&lt;br /&gt;C. You feel anxious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ABC model shows that A does not cause C. It is B that causes C. In the first example, it is not your employer's false accusation and threat that make you angry; it is your belief that she has no right to accuse you, and that she is a witch. In the second example, it is not her accusation and threat that make you anxious; it is the belief that you must not lose your job, and that losing your job would be unbearable.&lt;/blockquote&gt;The core of this therapy is to increase self-awareness and self-monitoring. By recognizing irrational thoughts and changing them ("Maybe my boss isn't a horrible person; I don't know what she is thinking; maybe she really thinks I stole something. I need to address this situation head on."), our emotions and, consequently, our actions will be more appropriate and effective. Anyway, I have already begun implementing this therapy in my own life. It's so cool to see how quickly it works. I am definitely choosing cognitive therapy as my theoretical orientation. Definitely. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1508363980234136626?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1508363980234136626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1508363980234136626' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1508363980234136626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1508363980234136626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/09/temptation-too-great.html' title='A Temptation Too Great...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-3019101903058875680</id><published>2008-09-07T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T13:10:49.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Job, More Time, &amp; Rediscovered Blessing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SMQ1NYAj07I/AAAAAAAAABQ/TIPsR-yS-i0/s1600-h/Cheyenne.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243374370065470386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SMQ1NYAj07I/AAAAAAAAABQ/TIPsR-yS-i0/s200/Cheyenne.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This past week I began my new job at Cheyenne Elementary School. Every day I visit several ELL students in their classroom and assist them with their assignments and clarify English language concepts for them. I LOVE IT! I see about 20-25 students a day ranging from fourth grade to eighth grade. I have my own little office off of the school library and work 8-3 everyday. I have even already begun to volunteer with the school's new At Risk program to help students who, due to economic, personal, or other circumstances, are deemed "at risk" by the school's intervention specialist. I just love being in a school. It's just the perfect environment for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, because of my schedule, I get to spend every afternoon an&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SMQ0fY4eGtI/AAAAAAAAABI/S5OVZSo1fKs/s1600-h/S4022600.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243373580025993938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SMQ0fY4eGtI/AAAAAAAAABI/S5OVZSo1fKs/s320/S4022600.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;d evening with Eddie and Ben. Having the weekends off together is also a big bonus. I get to enjoy hanging out with my boys now and have already noticed how much Ben has grown over the past few weeks. He is saying new words every day. He understands so much, but is also learning to test his limits and our patience! He is becoming bolder in his actions, though he still listens to our admonition, and I attribute it to his growing confidence. Every time I look at him, I see a little boy who is so loving, sensitive, and special and I find myself amazed that Heavenly Father has blessed us with such a wonderful child. Sometimes I wonder if I am learning more from him than perhaps he is learning from us. Funny how oft times our children teach us the attributes that we had planned to teach them. &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/1402778325950102241-3019101903058875680?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/3019101903058875680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=3019101903058875680' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3019101903058875680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3019101903058875680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-job-more-time-rediscovered-blessing.html' title='New Job, More Time, &amp; Rediscovered Blessing'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SMQ1NYAj07I/AAAAAAAAABQ/TIPsR-yS-i0/s72-c/Cheyenne.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-8708585142080492572</id><published>2008-08-27T08:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T08:23:31.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Beginning to an End and other Beginnings</title><content type='html'>Well, yesterday I told my boss that I was planning to go back to school and about my other job offer. We spoke for a while about whether I could cut back some hours at Buckle and maybe work off commission there. In the end though, I told him thanks but no thanks. He even offered to have me come back around Christmas for some extra hours. Surprisingly nice. So I have three more days at Buckle and then will begin working at PUSD (Peoria Unified School District) next Tuesday. I also will be meeting with the financial aid guy at Argosy to see if we can handle me going back for my MA in Counseling this Fall. I hadn't even planned to go back to school; it came up so unexpectedly and oddly enough, it was because of a girl I met at Buckle. Things seem to be rapidly falling into place. Amazing how that happens, isn't it? As I think back to what has gotten me through these past several weeks, I am reminded of Bednar's talk on the tender mercies of the Lord and how He is always mindful of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"...The Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized&lt;br /&gt;blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses,&lt;br /&gt;consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of&lt;br /&gt;and through the Lord Jesus Christ. Truly, the Lord suits “his mercies according&lt;br /&gt;to the conditions of the children of men” (&lt;a class="scriptureRef" onclick="newWindow('http://scriptures.lds.org/dc/46//15#15')" href="http://scriptures.lds.org/dc/46/15#15" target="contentWindow"&gt;D&amp;amp;C&lt;br /&gt;46:15&lt;/a&gt;)."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-8708585142080492572?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/8708585142080492572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=8708585142080492572' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8708585142080492572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8708585142080492572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/08/beginning-to-end-and-other-beginnings.html' title='A Beginning to an End and other Beginnings'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1798845227750248711</id><published>2008-08-24T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T20:12:45.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bitter-- I mean, Better Week</title><content type='html'>My boss drove me absolutely crazy this week. His rude remarks and snappiness are on my last nerve. You know, I can't even write about it without getting upset so I will just leave it at that. Fortunately, Friday brought good news: I was offered a job as an ELL (English Language Learner) Assistant at Cheyanne Elementary School. This will free up my evenings and weekends whilst I do something I might actually enjoy! YAY!!! I just gotta let my boss know tomorrow. Dun-dun-dun... He might just shoot me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who knows, maybe once I settle in at a job, I can start blogging about happy things like my husband and my baby boy and my new calling and such. Let's just hope. I'm sure you would like to hear about something else too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS Thanks Jenny Mae for being a great reference!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1798845227750248711?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1798845227750248711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1798845227750248711' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1798845227750248711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1798845227750248711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/08/bitter-i-mean-better-week.html' title='A Bitter-- I mean, Better Week'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-5910825595915168155</id><published>2008-08-18T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T22:33:17.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold your breath...</title><content type='html'>This past weekend was crazy. My job is unstable. My boss is crazy. My options are dwindling. Let's just say I spent Saturday night and Sunday morning crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sunday afternoon brought new hope, along with a couple of new doors beginning to open... I thought to myself, "Perhaps, this is my long-awaited miracle," and the Spirit truly made me feel like it was. Though have already said it before and want to avoid sounding trite, &lt;em&gt;this would be the greatest opportunity I could dream of at this point in my career. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only hold my breath and think, "Please. Maybe? Is it? Could this be the answer? Please, oh, please, let this work out." This would make everything I've gone through the past 6 weeks worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. So here I go... deep breath and... hold.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-5910825595915168155?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/5910825595915168155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=5910825595915168155' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5910825595915168155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/5910825595915168155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/08/hold-your-breathe.html' title='Hold your breath...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-8387723396699032096</id><published>2008-08-04T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T21:58:33.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Santa...</title><content type='html'>Ok, this is what I want. I don't want to do Manager Development program any more. I want to take the position that was originally offered to me as Assistant Mgr and just take it from there. I don't want to do homeowork, review chapters, or make personal plans on Outlook calendars. I am married with a child and really don't have time for any of that. I want a 9-5 job where I can work my butt off and then come home and forget about it for the night. I don't want to eat sleep and breathe Buckle. I just want a job. So, Santa, if you could take care of that for me, you know, sometime before Christmas, I would really appreciate it. Thanks so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Pal,&lt;br /&gt;Nikki&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-8387723396699032096?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/8387723396699032096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=8387723396699032096' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8387723396699032096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/8387723396699032096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/08/dear-santa.html' title='Dear Santa...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-3202460382659017916</id><published>2008-08-01T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T09:33:07.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Week Four: 'Shush. What can you see?'</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SJM6hvex_WI/AAAAAAAAABA/sl2lWo-3grs/s1600-h/life_sucks_get_a_helmet_bumpersticker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229587943662943586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SJM6hvex_WI/AAAAAAAAABA/sl2lWo-3grs/s320/life_sucks_get_a_helmet_bumpersticker.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not expecting to write much of the substance of what happened this week. Suffice it to say that it included some crappy days and some rays of hope with more time with my bosses to work on my development. What I wanted to touch on is the epiphany I woke up with this morning. For four weeks now, I've wondered why I have been having a hard time with work... is it because I am away from my family? Probably. Is it because I am physically exhausted by the end of the day? Sure. But I have been away from my family for school during the week but I didn't end up with the same feeling that I have when I return from work now. There is definitely something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My difficulty is twofold. It lies with the fact that I cannot see 'the bigger picture' while I am at work and that's mostly because they won't teach it to me. 90% of the time I try to learn something I am told, "Eh, you don't need to know that yet. You'll figure it out later." I tried to explain to a fellow manager-in-training yesterday that it helps me to know all of our policies and procedures beforehand so I don't make silly mistakes later on that could be avoided. "Don't worry about it" was what I was told. Thing is, I need that bigger picture. That is how I learn best. I need to see everything so later on I know where and how the little things fit into context. What I wouldn't give to see the bigger picture. Why won't anyone teach it to me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The second part of my difficulty at work probably was something to do with my pride. I'm not gonna lie, I am not good at what I do right now at work. I have to work my butt off and I am still not very good at it. At this job, I am not using any of my hard-earner, sharply-made, fined-tuned skills. None. I come home at the end of the day thinking how I suck at my job when deep down I know I have amazing skills that just aren't being used. My intelligence, my research skills, my writing ability, my analytical skills, my ability to retain lots of information are all collecting dust on my hypothalamus. Instead, the people at work are seeing my worst skills in action: my sales inability, my lack of people skills, my inability to hear anything over that loud music. I feel so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;awkward&lt;/span&gt; at work. I know that comes through in part of what I do too. So now what? I know that this job isn't getting the best out of me. Do I give up or work through it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I'll go read my patriarchal blessing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-3202460382659017916?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/3202460382659017916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=3202460382659017916' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3202460382659017916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3202460382659017916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/08/week-four-shush-what-can-you-see.html' title='Week Four: &apos;Shush. What can you see?&apos;'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SJM6hvex_WI/AAAAAAAAABA/sl2lWo-3grs/s72-c/life_sucks_get_a_helmet_bumpersticker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1547470270631615950</id><published>2008-07-27T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T21:51:09.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Third Week of Work: 'Be of Good Comfort'</title><content type='html'>As my work has progressed, I feel that I am beginning to become more accustomed to the life of a working mom. I think I will need more time still to feel that I am in any sort of rhythm or balance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In regards to the story of 'Stink Eye' girl, things have dramatically improved; that is, of course, after they had gone horribly wrong. Our relationship had gotten to the point where we completely ignored each other for the duration of our shifts together. This was also based on the advice of two managers at the store. However, the store manager wanted me to confront her and if that meant a brawl in the store, so be it. He wanted me to throw down with her and make sure she knew who was boss. He also informed me that her job was in jeopardy anyway and that she needed to either shape up or be shipped out. That gave me the courage to try to do some managing. I went up to her and another girl who were standing around when the store was slow and asked them to pick something from the list of to-do items and work on it until things picked up. She subsequently laughed in my face and walked away. Nice, eh? I didn't deal with her then, but informed my manager who "reviewed the heck out of her." That basically means that she got a serious verbal warning. She since has had several hour-long talks with the managers and is now trying to be my best friend. We've actually had sentence-long conversations. Wow. I don't know if she is trying to save her job or what, but I appreciate her effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been several times in the past few weeks that I have wondered what the heck it was that I was doing all day. Was this really what I was supposed to be doing right now? Seriously? Last Sunday in Sacrament meeting, someone gave a talk on patience and read &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mosiah&lt;/span&gt; 24 where the people were placed in bondage and were even forbidden to pray so instead they prayed constantly in their hearts. This was the result of their prayers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="13"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;13 And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their&lt;br /&gt;afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of&lt;br /&gt;the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a name="14"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a&lt;br /&gt;surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a name="15"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; &lt;strong&gt;yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a name="16"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;  16 And it came to pass that so great was their faith and their patience that the voice of the Lord came unto them again, saying: Be of good comfort, for on the morrow I will deliver you out of bondage.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/blockquote&gt;Maybe it sounds silly, but that's what I did this past week. I prayed a lot in my heart during my day for help to do the job better and for strength to be get through this time where I need to be working, this "time of affliction" for me. And I can honestly say that I truly feel that my burdens have been lifted. If this is what the Lord wants for me right now, then I will work through it. I will be patient and I will submit cheerfully as difficult as it may be. I just hope that I can demonstrate great faith and patience so that the Lord, when the time is right, can deliver me out of this bondage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1547470270631615950?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1547470270631615950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1547470270631615950' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1547470270631615950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1547470270631615950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/07/third-week-of-work-be-of-good-comfort.html' title='Third Week of Work: &apos;Be of Good Comfort&apos;'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1447269151169923532</id><published>2008-07-11T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T23:11:43.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Account of the First Week at Work: The Tale of 'Stink Eye' and More</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6666cc;"&gt;So, I started working this week and let me tell you: It has been a long, roller-coaster ride of emotions, a test of my physical stamina, and a trial of humility. Dropping Benjamin off at Shari's house was difficult. I was proud thought that I didn't start crying until after I left; I'm glad Ben didn't see me get upset. My first day seemed so long. At least I was able to watch videos in the beginning so I wasn't on my feet the whole day. I was able to meet many of the staff and, toward the end of the day, get to know the product, which included trying on every pair of jeans in the store. Haha, it's fun to get paid to try on cute clothes. Everyone was super nice save it be one girl. She hardly greeted me and gave me the stink eye the rest of the day. I honestly racked my brain that night trying to think of something I might have said or done to upset her. &gt;shoulder shrug&lt; That night I cried and cried because I felt so guilty for being away from my son all day just to help people try on jeans and what not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6666cc;"&gt;"Was it worth it?" I kept asking myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6666cc;"&gt;The next day was a little easier. Ben was excited to go to day care, which made the goodbye ok. I had fun at work and got to know the other employees better. 'Stink Eye' girl wasn't there so...yay! My sales were great considering it was my second day and I felt pumped for the rest of the week. My back hurt even more and my feet felt like stones. And again, I ended up crying the whole night because I felt guilty. But this time it was because I felt guilty for enjoying my work while my son was at day care. I also felt guilty because I'm not allowed to call Eddie during the day. It's strange to go from talking to him every hour or two to nothing at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Again, I asked myself, "Was it worth it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;My third day seemed to be my introduction to the unfolding drama in the store. I was initiated in with stories of good and bad bosses (almost like Michael Scott-stuff from &lt;em&gt;The Office&lt;/em&gt;), the partying, and the explanation of 'Stink Eye' girl. Apparently, when she and her BFF at the store heard that there was going to be a new Manager Trainee (me), they decided to treat me like crap to "put [me] in [my] place." They told everyone that if I tried to boss them around, they were going to "make [my] life a living hell." Nice, huh? I was even warned by other girls in the store to not bother being nice to her because that will just piss her off more. So... I found myself pitying 'Stink Eye' girl and her friend; they always seem so bitter and upset. How horrible would it be to live your life in such hatred and negativity? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;I also found myself taking the humble route when it came to speaking with her. I asked her for her opinion when I was working on a presentation (sale), thanked her for her input, and encouraged her to let me know what I should be doing to keep busy. I know that technically I am her supervisor but for now, I want her to know that I am not a threat to her or her position. It seems to be working. I've received less stink eye than the previous day. I plan to speak with her within a week or so and explain to her that I don't plan to boss her around, because she knows what she is doing more than I do but that I need her help and support to get to know the product and the way the store handles and would love and welcome her input. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;Well, that brings us to today: my day off. I still have to go into work though and speak with my boss, the store manager. I am so glad that I get to spend my day with Benjamin. It's nice. We had pancakes together and watched Curious Buddies. It's been a long week and I am glad it is coming to an end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;So... is it worth it? I don't know. I do feel myself growing and learning a lot. My son is learning a lot too from being with other kids during the day. He is talking more and seems more confident. When I prayed about finding a job, I found myself asking for Heavenly Father to place me in a job where I could be of help to someone and maybe even share the gospel with them. This is the place where I am supposed to be. It will be wonderful to see who it is that I can help. Who knows, it may even just be me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6666cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1447269151169923532?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1447269151169923532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1447269151169923532' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1447269151169923532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1447269151169923532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/07/account-of-first-week-at-work-tale-of.html' title='An Account of the First Week at Work: The Tale of &apos;Stink Eye&apos; and More'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2054483866942005457</id><published>2008-07-01T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T17:55:09.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SGrRV9iaGFI/AAAAAAAAAA4/El_WYjrXqfY/s1600-h/mary.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218213293488478290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SGrRV9iaGFI/AAAAAAAAAA4/El_WYjrXqfY/s320/mary.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays. But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come. No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;--Joseph B. Wirthlin, "Sunday Will Come", Ensign, Nov. 2006, 28 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2054483866942005457?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2054483866942005457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2054483866942005457' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2054483866942005457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2054483866942005457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/07/each-of-us-will-have-our-own.html' title=''/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SGrRV9iaGFI/AAAAAAAAAA4/El_WYjrXqfY/s72-c/mary.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2117716400724878086</id><published>2008-07-01T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T17:23:59.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's over.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SGrIkrbrJVI/AAAAAAAAAAw/I7LmIFHkcSQ/s1600-h/buckle.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218203650721785170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SGrIkrbrJVI/AAAAAAAAAAw/I7LmIFHkcSQ/s320/buckle.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;So I just got the phone call that confirmed an offer from Buckle for the Manager in training position. After months of going crazy with online applications, assessments, resumes, false hope and utter despair, I guess my job hunt is over. Not that I am going to miss it, but do I feel ready for the new chapter that is just beginning? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I have to admit that I am a little scared. This job offer is amazing and if I work my butt off, I can have my own store within a year. This could be what relocates our little happy butts to Texas. But despite my joy, my heart is heavy; I'm going to be a working mom. My baby won't be my daily priority anymore and much of my time and energy will be put into something that's outside of my home. Is that ok? I don't know. Maybe it is. Maybe if this is what our family needs right now, it is ok. This will allow Eddie to go back to school and finish his degree and then land a job that can be his career. So maybe it is. &gt;Sigh&lt;   I guess I just hope that this sacrifice is worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2117716400724878086?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2117716400724878086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2117716400724878086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2117716400724878086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2117716400724878086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/07/its-over.html' title='It&apos;s over.'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SGrIkrbrJVI/AAAAAAAAAAw/I7LmIFHkcSQ/s72-c/buckle.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1328179374470475976</id><published>2008-06-28T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T10:15:09.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a continuation of what Stacey said in the blog regarding friendships...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I know what you mean! Friendships now are not like they were in high school and I miss it too. Everyone is so far away and justifiably busy. It seems like the last real friendship I made (meaning I told that person everything about me) was just after high school and I dont even talk to that person any more. I just asked Eddie about it and he said he thinks its bc in high school, you spend all day with friends and then socialize with them outside of school and talk with them on the phone when you aren't with them, but now we don't have that time or luxury. But quality time doesn't equal friends, does it? Don't get me wrong; I have lots of great friends that I have made recently, but they aren't the same as the ones back in high school. I hardly get to see most of them and there isn't enough time to gab on the phone like we used to. It's like it's hard to keep most friends close after you get married. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To quote another's blog about the transition from having friends to being settled in your marriage:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"You have your group of friends. You do everything together. You meet a guy, date the guy, fall in love with the guy. You stop doing everything with your friends and instead split the time between the two. Your friends are fine with this because they have their own boyfriends. And those who don't have boyfriends might resent you some but they would never say it openly. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then that guy becomes "the guy". You get married, settle down and decide to start a family. During the pregnancy your friends organize a baby shower. You're happy and content. Then the big day comes and baby arrives. Your friends visit you in the hospital and you go home after. Thus begins the transition into Mommydom. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But then, it happens. You are invited to a girls night out but you have to decline, the baby is sick. Then you are asked to a shopping spree with the girls. Trouble is you're saving for Christmas and you know they will expect to eat out. So you tell them you can go but have to leave after the shopping is done. You go and they push you to go eat, you need to "catch up". You explain money is tight and you simply cannot but thank them and go home. Then a few weeks later you and the hubs have plans for a dinner out. Your friends call a few days before and ask you out and you explain you have a date with the husband. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When it's all said and done, it is just you and your spouse. Some of the friendships continue but only in the form of going out once in a blue moon to lunch or random phone calls. Otherwise it's just you and him and your children. You fall into a habit and the times you leave the house are always spent together. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Does this sound familiar to any of you? I'm sure certain details might be different but overall? I've been thinking about how friendships change after someone gets married or starts having children. I can attest to the fact that many friends move along as soon as they realize you're lifestyle and value systems have changed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So tell me, is it just me? Or has this happened to you? Did alot of your friendships come to an end once you married? How about your husbands? or your wives?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Let me know what you all think.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1328179374470475976?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1328179374470475976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1328179374470475976' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1328179374470475976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1328179374470475976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/06/just-continuation-of-what-stacey-said.html' title='Just a continuation of what Stacey said in the blog regarding friendships...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-6523068179228202327</id><published>2008-06-26T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T20:21:02.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Weeks and Seven Years</title><content type='html'>So earlier this week I had my third interview with BCBG, a great clothing company, for a Shop Manager position at Arrowhead mall. BCBG rents a space inside of the Dillard's store at Arrowhead and several other malls here in the Valley. The interview was successful and I was told that I would be contacted soon to begin training. GREAT! Then this morning, I got a call from the current mgr at BCBG Arrowhead. She wanted my SSN to run it through the Dillard's computer to make sure I am hireable. CRAP! See, I told you this story to tell you another story: Seven years ago I worked in the Men's Department at Dillard's selling sportswear and plaid golf shorts. I was then offered a great office job with better pay and a consistent schedule. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to put in my two weeks notice because this company needed me to begin training immediately for the girl I was to replace was getting married within a few weeks. FYI: When you do not give two weeks notice at Dillard's, you are black-balled for life. You can never, ever work for Dillard's again. Ever. So back to the original story, BCBG checked my status and saw that I was "non-hireable" at Dillard's so I ended up losing the job I never got to start. The end. Life sucks. And I am still unemployed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-6523068179228202327?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/6523068179228202327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=6523068179228202327' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6523068179228202327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/6523068179228202327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/06/two-weeks-and-seven-years.html' title='Two Weeks and Seven Years'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2437305309998659625</id><published>2008-06-19T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T16:09:54.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SFrleNDjPsI/AAAAAAAAAAg/c4eKJ4Ct020/s1600-h/S4022589.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213731825698160322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SFrleNDjPsI/AAAAAAAAAAg/c4eKJ4Ct020/s320/S4022589.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So these past few weeks have been riddled with self-doubt and endless questioning about whether I would ever get a job. In essence, job hunting sucks. At least I had some good interviews this week that should lead to some offers by early next week. Let's keep those fingers crossed!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As much as I want a job though, I am gonna miss my little baby 'Boo.' I mean, look at that tushy. How can you not love that!? Don't worry. We don't allow him to around naked or anything; he was just protesting bathtime that day. Eddie's just glad we didn't have to clean up any "accidents." :O Anyway, I can't believe I am gonna have to miss seeing so many of the funny, cute things that he does every day. I mean, is anyone really qualified to raise my kid besides me? Ugh. At least it's temporary. I am gonna need lots of support these next couple of months. I am gonna have flippin'-awful Benjamin withdrawl symptoms. It's gonna be sad.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2437305309998659625?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2437305309998659625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2437305309998659625' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2437305309998659625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2437305309998659625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/06/so-these-past-few-weeks-have-been.html' title=''/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SFrleNDjPsI/AAAAAAAAAAg/c4eKJ4Ct020/s72-c/S4022589.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-536075073070768091</id><published>2008-06-18T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T19:52:19.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Friend Indeed</title><content type='html'>I was just reflecting this past week about seasoned friends and how so many seem to disappear as time goes on. A lot of times, it is distance that forces these friendships to fade. Other times, it is as innocent as forgetfulness or lives that are too filled with other priorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke with an old friend last week; a friend who I could have sworn would have been there for me for the rest of my life. It's true that since both of us have gotten married, we have spoken less. Yet, this did not seem to affect the actual friendship. I looked forward to seeing her. Our friendship had been through a lot since our high school days. And then something happened. At first, I didn't know if she had changed or if I had never noticed it, but this friend's negativism and self-doubt surfaced in horribly sarcastic and mean comments meant to cut and hurt me. At that moment, I realized that I didn't ever want to be around person again. I was shocked at my callous reaction. She had been a friend for so long. Yet now, as I reminisce about our friendship, I noticed that this particular behavior &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; been a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;recurrent&lt;/span&gt; part of her personality. She had always found ways to put me down and I guess I used to ignore it. So maybe it is I who have changed. I never thought I would be the one to withdraw from this friendship. I can't blame time or other factors. I will be the one to force this friend away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How sad is that? I keep wondering: Is it a good thing that I do not want to be around this negative person? And what do you say to a person who's condescending attitude is finally just too much to handle? How do you say goodbye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, maybe I will take a passive backseat... stop contacting her... and allow time to do the dirty work for me. It would have happened eventually anyway, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-536075073070768091?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/536075073070768091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=536075073070768091' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/536075073070768091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/536075073070768091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/06/friend-indeed.html' title='A Friend Indeed'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-4897840861017996704</id><published>2008-06-02T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T11:41:02.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Jobs and Kids</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SEQ7-z96dII/AAAAAAAAAAY/rPVnjChwM0c/s1600-h/S4022548.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207353019434955906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SEQ7-z96dII/AAAAAAAAAAY/rPVnjChwM0c/s320/S4022548.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, yeah, my kid is the cutest thing ever. I can't believe he will be 15 months tomorrow. I think that means I am supposed to refer to him as a toddler and not "my little itty-bitty baby with a cutey-utey tushy." Heck, he already flirts with the little girls at church (of course, his flirting consists of a nice caress of his hand on her head and circling her about 20 times while smiling). Too bad I won't let him get married till he's 30. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I can't wait to give Benjamin a little brother or sister. I think I have baby fever because I can't stop thinking about it! It's amazing how the Spirit tells you when you are ready. Eddie and I planned to wait at least 3-4 years until the next baby just because we were waiting till he finished school. Then last week, we come home from church and both say (practically in unison) how we don't want to wait that long and we want to have another as soon as possible. Funny how your plans change when you know it's right. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, now, I just have to get a job. Once I am working for a few months, we can start trying to have our second.  That way I will get decent maternity leave. So yeah, unemployment is keeping me from having a baby. You can imagine how anxious that makes me feel. I have sent my resume out to at least 40 different companies within the past 2 weeks. Other than several rejection emails and one job offer in Tempe (which I obviously couldn't take), I have received nothing. I guess I should just keep praying, right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-4897840861017996704?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/4897840861017996704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=4897840861017996704' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/4897840861017996704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/4897840861017996704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/06/of-jobs-and-kids.html' title='Of Jobs and Kids'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SEQ7-z96dII/AAAAAAAAAAY/rPVnjChwM0c/s72-c/S4022548.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-3707895412242382171</id><published>2008-05-16T12:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T12:54:24.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sinto saudades de 'homework'</title><content type='html'>I didn't think I would miss school this much, but I totally do. I miss assignments and homework and class discussions on psychology terms and theories. I miss the conversations with my classmates. Even though I did not know any of them on any sort of personal level, the connection between us as students and our passion for psychology made me feel like they were kindred spirits. I do have wonderful friends to talk with and Eddie has always humored my psycho babble, but I know he believes most of it to be "fake Freudian stuff" and several of my friends have made the same comment. If there are any psychology lovers out there, please find me. I need the interaction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-3707895412242382171?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/3707895412242382171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=3707895412242382171' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3707895412242382171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/3707895412242382171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/05/sinto-saudades-de-homework.html' title='Sinto saudades de &apos;homework&apos;'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-1916752504119319037</id><published>2008-05-14T12:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T12:40:22.448-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Standard of Truth</title><content type='html'>Last Thursday, I was at my husband's soccer game, as usual, and I encountered several individuals whom were not among the regulars. These guys, who were about my age, were cheering on a friend of theirs who also plays on Ed's team. At first, their cheers were happy and excited, but it appears that they soon got bored with that and they began to yell more obscene comments, jokes, inuendos, and cursings. These shoutings became worse as the night went on. My friends that I usually sit with rolled their eyes and quietly stated how annoying it was. During the last 15 minutes of the last game, I realized I couldn't stand listening to it anymore; my son was listening to it as were other families that were sitting nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned to the group and said, "Im sorry, but some of us really don't appreciate your perverse comments  and swearing. Please stop." They immediately denied saying anything wrong, but were silent for several minutes after my rebuke. Then the mocking began: "Hey, kick their &lt;em&gt;heiney&lt;/em&gt;... oh, can we say that? Oh it might be a &lt;em&gt;bad &lt;/em&gt;word.""Can we say butt?""No, that's &lt;em&gt;oh-ffen-sive&lt;/em&gt;...haha...""People are such prudes." It continued the remainder of the game. I was so flustered and upset by that point that I couldn't even say anything and left immediately following the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so surprised by their audaciousness. How can they be that disrespectful? There were families there; one of yellers had his son with him. I guess what surprised me the most was that no one else said anything. No one agreed with me or supported me. No one said anything while they mocked me for 15 minutes straight. Not even my friends. No one. I felt so alone that night though I was surrounded by people I sit with every week. How can that be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-1916752504119319037?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/1916752504119319037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=1916752504119319037' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1916752504119319037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/1916752504119319037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/05/standard-of-truth.html' title='A Standard of Truth'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1402778325950102241.post-2344054309014813971</id><published>2008-05-13T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T11:11:10.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To move or not to move...</title><content type='html'>Eddie and I have been debating for a year and a half now whether or not we should move to Texas or not. We had planned to leave last December, but situational circumstances prohibited our departure. Now we are faced again with the choice: Do we move? I have just graduated and can get a job that will support the family while Eddie goes back to school to finish his degree. The question is: do I get a job here or in Texas? While speaking to my in-laws the other day about "the signs of the time," I realized that our 25 year plan might not happen the way we have planned it. Do we have that much time? They advised us to seriously pray about where we should relocate our family for such a decision could have giant effects. I know that I do not want to stay here. I do not feel that Phoenix is the place for our family to grow. But is Texas the right one?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1402778325950102241-2344054309014813971?l=themouresrule.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/feeds/2344054309014813971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1402778325950102241&amp;postID=2344054309014813971' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2344054309014813971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1402778325950102241/posts/default/2344054309014813971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themouresrule.blogspot.com/2008/05/to-move-or-not-to-move.html' title='To move or not to move...'/><author><name>Nikki and Edward Moure</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05085724588750422231</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_w2O1zoZOHAk/SCnWJMROznI/AAAAAAAAAAM/6_s0VtKG2d4/S220/257.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
