<?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-3331115</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:01:45.759-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ceci n’est pas une blog.</title><subtitle type='html'>Lighten up, Francis.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>845</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107755876221711088</id><published>2004-02-23T11:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-23T11:54:42.640-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm not a big clapper. Never have been. I don't know why. I just feel silly doing it. Clapping. It's goofy. I mean I'm physically capable of clapping. I just don't like it. I'm self-conscious about it. Slapping my hands together.What a funny way to show appreciation. Making noise with your hands. I do get excited about stuff. I am capable of appreciating stuff. But I am rarely so excited that</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107755876221711088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107755876221711088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107755876221711088' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107755844035541040</id><published>2004-02-23T11:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-23T11:49:20.233-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>All cartoons being produced now are either educational or Japanese. My daughter can't watch a simple Saturday morning cartoon without either being taught how to count or seeing big-eyed, cheaply animated robotic dinosaurs attack each other, flying through the air and emitting speech that is unsynchronized with their mouths. All I want is to be able to turn on the TV and see a duck get hit in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107755844035541040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107755844035541040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107755844035541040' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107755491802509834</id><published>2004-02-23T10:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-23T10:50:37.840-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What a deal. A $90 boxed set of DVD's going for $6 on Amazon. Click here.Yeah, they're black and white public domain silent films, but Metropolis, Birth of a Nation,  and Buster Keaton's The General are definitely worth the six bucks.  It is possible that these won't be the cleaned-up versions available elsewhere, but I'm willing to take a chance.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107755491802509834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107755491802509834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107755491802509834' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107634787507342005</id><published>2004-02-09T11:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-09T11:44:44.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Based on a very complicated formula that I came up with, here is who I believe will put up the best offensive numbers this upcoming baseball season (no real suprises):1. Albert Pujols2. Barry Bonds3. Todd Helton4. Alex Rodriguez5. Vladamir Guerrero6. Gary Sheffield7. Carlos Beltran8. Brian Giles9. Manny Ramirez10. Luis GonzalezTop 10 most valuable starting pitchers:1. Curt </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107634787507342005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107634787507342005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107634787507342005' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107634734763267569</id><published>2004-02-09T11:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-09T11:24:13.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you ever catch yourself wondering whether it is a good idea to buy a two-year-old a kazoo...believe me, it isn't.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107634734763267569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107634734763267569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107634734763267569' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107634721425056802</id><published>2004-02-09T11:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-09T11:22:00.296-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I just noticed that all of the albums I listed below are about ten years old. What's THAT all about?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107634721425056802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107634721425056802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107634721425056802' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107582609177824739</id><published>2004-02-03T10:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-03T10:36:31.513-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You've got a five disc CD changer in your car and 300 miles to drive. Based on how you feel today, what do you put in there?Me?Everclear - Sparkle and FadeWeezer - you know, the blue oneLyle Lovett - Joshua Judges RuthMeatloaf - The first oneBetter Than Ezra - Deluxe</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107582609177824739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107582609177824739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107582609177824739' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107582580878153732</id><published>2004-02-03T10:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-03T10:31:48.576-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've often pondered the fact that everyone is pretty good at something, and I've thought about how for some reason I'm not good at anything. So I've always thought that I've just never gotten around to trying whatever it is that I have a God-given gift for. What if I could be a world champion steer wrestler and just don't know it because I've never done it? Somebody else is out there winning my</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107582580878153732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107582580878153732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107582580878153732' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107582465359752411</id><published>2004-02-03T10:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-02-03T10:12:33.640-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>So is everyone in the tax return preparation business now?Can you tell me who would actually take their tax forms to a used car dealership?"Yeah, uh. Looks like yer getting a tree-tousand dollar refund here. We have a very fine Buick wit low mileage for jus about that. Jus sign right here, we'll take care uh da rest."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107582465359752411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107582465359752411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107582465359752411' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107544439144171154</id><published>2004-01-30T00:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-30T00:34:46.780-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yesterday, my little girl uttered the words that every father longs to hear:"Daddy, can we go outside and play football?"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107544439144171154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107544439144171154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107544439144171154' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107544433170785272</id><published>2004-01-30T00:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-30T00:33:47.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Every night when I go to bed I hope that I wake up the next morning to find that the St. Louis Cardinals have made a big play to secure the services of Greg Maddux for the upcoming season.The Cards will be playing for third place in the NL Central, at best, without quality starters in the number three and four spot in the rotation this year. Barring serious injury to their respective pitching </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107544433170785272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107544433170785272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107544433170785272' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107530783165770671</id><published>2004-01-28T10:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T10:38:45.513-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Have you ever thought that maybe we could come up with better presidential candidates by just having everyone draw straws?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107530783165770671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107530783165770671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107530783165770671' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107530778493480653</id><published>2004-01-28T10:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T10:37:58.793-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Maybe we ought to tape American Idol and watch it after the toddler goes to bed.Last night she was hollering at her Care Bears, "YOU. CAN'T. SIIIIINNNGGGG".</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107530778493480653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107530778493480653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107530778493480653' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107530770008795078</id><published>2004-01-28T10:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-28T10:36:33.950-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What kind of guy locks his truck with the keys in the ignition and the engine running?You're looking at him, Lupe.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107530770008795078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107530770008795078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107530770008795078' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107474654090969406</id><published>2004-01-21T22:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-21T22:43:48.060-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I need someone who knows something about baseball, or someone who is a Braves fan (heh-heh), to tell me if they've heard or seen anything out of John Smoltz this off-season... Is he coming back? Do you think he'll be dominant again? Is he done for? What is your opinion on the future of John Smoltz?I need to know. Thank you.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107474654090969406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107474654090969406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107474654090969406' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107474429253775392</id><published>2004-01-21T22:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-22T08:10:55.030-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Okay. I'll admit it. I've watched the first three episodes of American Idol......and the gig is up. I see what they are doing. Ten thousand people show up to the auditions, but in each city only about a thousand make it in front of the panel of celebrity judges, (according to Paula Abdul's interview on Letterman last night.) What happens to the other nine thousand? It is obvious that they are</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107474429253775392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107474429253775392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107474429253775392' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107462657730319160</id><published>2004-01-20T13:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-20T13:24:23.343-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've come to the conclusion that Magna Doodles are amillenial.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107462657730319160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107462657730319160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107462657730319160' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107453244627739420</id><published>2004-01-19T11:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-19T11:25:57.560-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My biggest problem with television is that when I actually have time to watch something, there's nothing on. And don't tell me I need to get cable. Whenever we go to a hotel or stay with relatives who have it, I'm all like, "Wow. 78 channels!", and then I'm all like, "Okay... there's absolutely nothing on."But the local stations are just terrible. When did old reruns and "B" westerns get </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107453244627739420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107453244627739420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107453244627739420' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107428155852189179</id><published>2004-01-16T13:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-16T13:34:00.496-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Since some folks have posted a list of their reading for the previous year, I thought I would like to do the same, but not to illicit a “Hey look at him” sort of a response or even a “Wow. He sure reads some dumb stuff” response. I just thought it would be good to record what I’ve read and to know what year I read it, and this is as good a place as any to write it down.The side benefit is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107428155852189179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107428155852189179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107428155852189179' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107383196528153054</id><published>2004-01-11T08:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-11T08:40:42.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bring me the head of Mike Martz.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107383196528153054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107383196528153054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107383196528153054' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107366809118369626</id><published>2004-01-09T11:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-01-09T11:09:26.530-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wow.  So long since I’ve posted. My apologies.Christmas was great. Best ever. It is the first Christmas that my two year old actually knew what was going on and had the anticipation of opening presents. She was so good about not touching the presents under the tree that she even rebuked me when I was shaking something that Sarah had put under there for me. She ran across the room to me  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107366809118369626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107366809118369626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2004_01_01_archive.html#107366809118369626' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-107055900783349143</id><published>2003-12-04T11:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-12-04T11:31:17.576-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you are looking for something to get me for Christmas, how about the Knee Defender? It is a device that you can use on an airplane to prevent the person in front of you from using their seat like a La-Z-Boy. It slips down the arm of the tray table, rendering the recline option inoperable. This is something I could have used when I flew out to Maryland last week. Sarah and Bailey had left </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107055900783349143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/107055900783349143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107055900783349143' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106970243353515232</id><published>2003-11-24T13:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-12-04T09:38:10.013-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I believe that as good solid American Reformed Presbyterian folk we need to oppose this rising tide of liturgical sentiment and save our churches from what is a blatant attempt to get us to pray to Mary, kiss the pope's ring and put statues of saints in our sanctuary and on our lawns.I base my opposition on two thoughts. First, we have inherited a rich, full-bodied worship tradition from the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106970243353515232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106970243353515232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106970243353515232' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106912803215748301</id><published>2003-11-17T22:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-17T22:05:36.263-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm thinking about writing an essay titled "Yankee Hospitality: An Urban Apologetic" in order to dissect the myth that all Southerners and country folk are naturally hospitable and all Yankees and city dwellers are naturally jackasses and to argue that Reformed Christians ought to give more thought to living in cities than they do. Like I could title one section, "Why goats almost never respond</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106912803215748301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106912803215748301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106912803215748301' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106912768569622359</id><published>2003-11-17T21:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-17T21:55:09.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've had a cough since September. He's been around so long that I thought I'd give him a name. Charlie.I'm addicted to cough drops. It's not that I hold any ill will for Charlie, it's just that I don't like him speaking up in the middle of my sentences. Or in the middle of other peoples sentences. And I don't like it when he talks for like five minutes straight. It's annoying. Come to think</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106912768569622359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106912768569622359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106912768569622359' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106912730143411006</id><published>2003-11-17T21:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-17T21:49:27.250-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know that "extreme" no longer means "extreme" when it is used to describe tater tots.Yeah. Sonic is advertising EXTREME Tater Tots. They're like regular tater tots. Only they are somehow more extreme.I'm curious about Sonic. What is their key demographic? Who are they aiming for? Do you eat there?For some reason I never have a desire to go sit around and eat in my car, and I'm wondering</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106912730143411006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106912730143411006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106912730143411006' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106857972808009897</id><published>2003-11-11T13:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-11T13:42:05.400-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I saw some cows in a pasture chewing grass right next to a billboard that read, "Beef: It's what's for dinner."It is as if the cows were saying,  "(munch munch) Wonder what that sign says? (munch munch)"</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106857972808009897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106857972808009897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106857972808009897' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106857961381841607</id><published>2003-11-11T13:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-11T13:40:11.150-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I want to walk into a McDonald's with no shirt and no shoes and say, "Hey, I'm just trying to keep my end of the bargain."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106857961381841607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106857961381841607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106857961381841607' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106857958599565376</id><published>2003-11-11T13:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-11T13:39:43.323-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Church sign in Bastrop, LA - "Download your worries and get online with God!"Huh?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106857958599565376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106857958599565376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106857958599565376' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106818366050848126</id><published>2003-11-06T23:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-06T23:44:27.980-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Our parents and our grandparents moved away from the city to the suburbs and to the country. And they bought televisions.  Many of them prohibited smoking and drinking while they encouraged the liberal use of the situation comedy and police drama. The implicit invitation was to drink the prime time offering to its dregs. Laugh right along with the laugh track. If you have anything to say, wait </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106818366050848126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106818366050848126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106818366050848126' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106804961669619550</id><published>2003-11-05T10:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-05T10:37:49.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I keep seeing articles like this one from the Boston Globe where TV execs are complaining about low ratings. Jason Garrett had some pretty good comments on this yesterday, and Jon Barlow asked about Letterman's recent ratings drop.Well, I don’t know why everyone else has stopped watching, but I know why I haven’t followed a single TV series since “Seinfeld” went off the air five years ago. It’s</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106804961669619550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106804961669619550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106804961669619550' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106804573690491282</id><published>2003-11-05T09:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-05T09:22:50.686-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hey look! The University of Louisiana at Monroe made it onto the ESPN college football poll!Of course they are ranked in the bottom ten.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106804573690491282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106804573690491282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106804573690491282' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106796167169401570</id><published>2003-11-04T10:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-11-04T10:19:04.296-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Here is a really cool quiz testing your knowledge of 80's pop music lyrics. Let me know how well you scored.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106796167169401570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106796167169401570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106796167169401570' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106761489487261428</id><published>2003-10-31T09:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-31T09:41:33.530-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you grew up in a trick or treating house.... what was the worse thing you ever got in your bag?Remember those peanut butter things wrapped in the black and orange wax paper? Those were pretty bad. There were always plenty of those left over way into January.Or what about those strawberry candies that old ladies keep on their coffee tables... the ones wrapped in cellophane that looked like </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106761489487261428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106761489487261428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106761489487261428' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106746738159136777</id><published>2003-10-29T16:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T16:43:53.323-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know the kid who throws the free community newspaper in your front yard? I wonder if there is any way that I can convince him to throw it directly into the garbage can for me?There is very little difference between tossing free community newspapers in yards and littering.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106746738159136777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106746738159136777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106746738159136777' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106745353642619942</id><published>2003-10-29T12:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T12:52:15.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've noticed that down here in Louisiana the phrase "that's fine" doesn't mean the same thing that it means in the Midwest. For instance, if a waitress in Louisiana asks if you would like a refill and you say, "That's fine.", she will most likely just walk away. If a checker asks if you would like a bag for some small item, and you say, "That's fine.", he will give you the item sans bag.In </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106745353642619942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106745353642619942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106745353642619942' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106745002829271482</id><published>2003-10-29T11:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T11:57:14.323-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Have you ever had the experience of repeatedly running across a particular word in your reading, where every time you pick up a book or a journal or a magazine or a paper, you see that same word?I keep running across the word qua. It's everywhere. Evidently it is no longer chic to use the word "as".So, in keeping with this trend, I ought to say that I am going to be Duane qua Duane for </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106745002829271482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106745002829271482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106745002829271482' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106740142286496545</id><published>2003-10-28T22:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-28T22:23:42.060-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Remember those old vinyl Halloween costumes with the plastic mask? I remember thinking those were so cool. At my school Halloween party every year, it seemed like all of the coolest kids had those, but now thinking about them, they were so lame and unimaginative.The vinyl vest usually wasn't a costume in the strictest sense of the word at all. It was more or less a billboard for the cartoon or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106740142286496545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106740142286496545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106740142286496545' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106734948941822688</id><published>2003-10-28T07:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-28T07:58:08.193-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Okay Florida, you can go back to not caring about baseball.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106734948941822688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106734948941822688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106734948941822688' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106734943669286565</id><published>2003-10-28T07:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-28T07:57:15.490-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There are three kinds of people in this world... those who can count and those who can't.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106734943669286565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106734943669286565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106734943669286565' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106729978566630847</id><published>2003-10-27T18:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-27T18:10:49.593-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>For Hallowee ERRRRR Reformation Day, my two year old is going as Blue. The puppy. From Blues Clues. Any idea of where I can get a green horizontally-striped shirt on short notice?Yeah. I think I'm more of a Steve than a Joe.Here's a question for discussion. Joe... spazz, geek or dweeb?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106729978566630847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106729978566630847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106729978566630847' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106729952707759080</id><published>2003-10-27T18:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-10-27T18:05:26.926-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Just finished "Ideas Have Consequences" by Richard Weaver.He had some good insights, secularist that he was. For instance:"The whole tendency of modern thought, one might say its whole moral impulse, is to keep the individual busy with endless induction. Since the time of Bacon, the world has been running away from, rather than toward, first principles, so that, on the verbal level, we see "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106729952707759080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106729952707759080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106729952707759080' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106691981618393015</id><published>2003-10-23T09:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-23T09:36:55.840-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>One thing I've learned about small jobs around the house is that they always turn into big jobs around the house.A few weeks ago the litte drain stopper in our bathroom sink stopped working. It would go down, but wouldn't pull back up. Turns out the plastic piece that holds it in place was broken, so I just pulled it straight out and said, "I'll get around to it." Of course that left a big </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106691981618393015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106691981618393015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106691981618393015' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106691905832814462</id><published>2003-10-23T09:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-23T09:24:18.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Even though everybody would have been way more interested in a World Series involving either of those Boston or Chicago teams, if I think outside of my Yankee-hatred for a moment, I really believe that we have the two most solid, most well-rounded teams in baseball right now playing the Series. It has been suprisingly exciting so far. Both teams are so evenly matched. Who would have thought </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106691905832814462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106691905832814462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106691905832814462' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106674737281543452</id><published>2003-10-21T09:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-21T09:42:52.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Aw. Poor Iraqis don't have the equipment to play kickball.Here's the perfect opportunity for someone to go in and teach them baseball like Americans did with Japan after World War II. The reason that they are languishing in ignorance, poverty and depravity is because they have a terrible game. Teach them a better game, a more highly developed game, and within generations their culture will </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106674737281543452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106674737281543452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106674737281543452' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-10666736619050433</id><published>2003-10-20T13:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-20T14:28:05.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Oswald the Octapus is awesome. If you haven't seen him, and you have a toddler, you need to check him out. There are no bad guys in the stories. The only conflict comes in the relationships he has with his friends and the misunderstandings they have between them when someone is selfish or inconsiderate. Oswald, the main character, is always self-sacrificing, always giving, always happy to put his</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/10666736619050433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/10666736619050433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#10666736619050433' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106667319903715621</id><published>2003-10-20T13:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-20T13:06:39.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know those gas pumps that have three buttons for three different grades of fuel, but just one nozzle? How stupid do they think we are? All the buttons do is let you pick your price. Did they really think we'd fall for that?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106667319903715621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106667319903715621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106667319903715621' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106636807445150251</id><published>2003-10-17T00:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-17T00:22:22.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I want to say something abou this but I give up. I'm sure I voted wrong somewhere along the way. I need to vote better in the future.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106636807445150251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106636807445150251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106636807445150251' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106636703185863672</id><published>2003-10-17T00:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-17T00:03:51.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Here we go. Another World Series that no one outside of New York cares about. You think Miami cares? They had more people at the three NLCS games against the Cubs than they had in the entire months of June, July and August. Combined. And I'm guessing that it was only because they were playing the Cubs.This is just a brief amusement for Florida. They have very few real fans. Win or lose, the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106636703185863672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106636703185863672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106636703185863672' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106636673153340409</id><published>2003-10-16T23:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-16T23:58:51.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Someone needs to come up with a better imprecation for the New York Yankees. "Damned" just isn't sufficient anymore. We need one of those nice big fat cuss words that makes little old ladies dab their forehead with a handkerchief when they hear it.Of course you would never actually say it in front of an old woman. One ought not ever use the word "Yankees" in mixed company. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106636673153340409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106636673153340409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106636673153340409' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106628235368842706</id><published>2003-10-16T00:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-16T00:37:32.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>When I was a boy they were my pride and joyBut now they only bring fatigueTo the land of the free, the home of the braveAnd the doormat of the National LeagueI heard that a long time ago. I can't remember where. It was the refrain of a song which lamented the futility of the Cubs, and it has stuck with me. When I was a boy, I was a Cub fan. Even though I long ago put my immature </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106628235368842706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106628235368842706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106628235368842706' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106623186048130910</id><published>2003-10-15T10:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T10:31:00.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Remember that one kid in school who always wanted to run the projector? The kid that got to turn the knob everytime the record or cassette went "ding"? I hated that kid.Remember that other kid who always wanted to turn the lights off when it was time for a movie? He didn't have as much ambition as the projector kid, but he was still out there, doing his thing, working the light switch. I hated </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106623186048130910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106623186048130910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106623186048130910' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106623107172862429</id><published>2003-10-15T10:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-16T00:38:26.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've got it figured out. Cub fan does not want his team to go to the World Series. Because if the Cubs go to the World Series, they have an outside chance of winning the World Series, and then what? Cub fan loses all of his mystique and aura as the one true fan left in the world of sports. No, he doesn't cheer for a successful franchise. He cheers for the team with the longest history and the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106623107172862429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106623107172862429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106623107172862429' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106607799179031308</id><published>2003-10-13T15:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-13T15:46:31.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I had an educational weekend. Here is what I learned:Gasoline really does get rid of ants.It doesn't matter how impenetrable your boots look, ants can still get inside them and bite your feet a number of times.Flipping the breaker back and forth repeatedly does nothing to jumpstart a dead air conditioning unit.Certain Viking explorers might have been Christians. (But that in no way </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106607799179031308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106607799179031308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106607799179031308' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106607684486610201</id><published>2003-10-13T15:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-13T15:46:59.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I bet one thing that kids in Venice really get hollered at for is going across the street right after they've eaten.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106607684486610201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106607684486610201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106607684486610201' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106580828470834396</id><published>2003-10-10T12:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T12:51:24.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I can't eat vanilla ice cream by itself. It seems as if vanilla ice cream was invented for the purpose of going with something else.  When you are eating a brownie or a piece of apple pie, vanilla ice cream is the only way to go. I wouldn't use anything else. However, if all you have is vanilla ice cream, you really don't have anything at all, unless you at least have some sort of chocolate syrup</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106580828470834396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106580828470834396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106580828470834396' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106576405281507164</id><published>2003-10-10T00:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T09:42:07.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The other day we finally got around to visiting the Beidenharn museum... which if you've never been to Monroe, it is this house turned into a Beidenharn museum. Yeah. I didn't know what one was either until I went.Evidently there was this family that first got the idea to put Coke into bottles and made some money off the idea, so now their house is a museum. So whatever.We get to the part of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106576405281507164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106576405281507164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106576405281507164' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106576366650107178</id><published>2003-10-10T00:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T00:27:46.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tomorrow morning I'm giving a lecture in my history class on the French Revolution and Napoleon.I still can't determine at exactly what point Napoleon was ultimately and finally vanquished. What was his proverbial "Waterloo", so to speak? It all seems so subjective. So tough to sort out.I do know that Napoleon ice cream is about the best that there is out there. I mean who was it that came up</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106576366650107178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106576366650107178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106576366650107178' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106564276179047569</id><published>2003-10-08T14:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-08T14:52:41.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Question: What kind of Barbie doll has four teeth, a mono-brow, smells like stewed goat, is an illiterate sycophant and bows toward Mecca three times a day?Answer  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106564276179047569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106564276179047569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106564276179047569' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106562417245814471</id><published>2003-10-08T09:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-08T09:42:52.180-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Did I mention that my daughter in really into the Care Bears?(I can already hear the response... and I'll just go ahead and answer it. Yes, she's also really into memorizing the Children's Catechism, the Lord's Prayer, the Nicene Creed, and a few hymns. She just says or sings them with a Care Bear tucked under her arm, or after having just watched a Care Bear cartoon.)So we can't escape the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106562417245814471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106562417245814471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106562417245814471' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106554232721522751</id><published>2003-10-07T10:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-07T11:00:23.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The other day my two year old daughter asked me, "Can I have your Mar-Mart?" (That's how she says "Wal-Mart".)"You want my Wal-Mart?""Yeah, Daddy, I want your Mar-Mart.""I don't know what you are talking about, baby."(She points to my pants.)I say, "You want to GO to Wal-Mart?""No, I want your Mar-Mart.""Show me what you are talking about, baby." She tries to dig my wallet out of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554232721522751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554232721522751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106554232721522751' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106554192773191895</id><published>2003-10-07T10:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-07T10:52:07.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I love youA bushel and a peckA bushel and a peckand a hug around the neckA hug around the neckand a barrel and a heapA barrel and a heap and I'm talkin in my sleep About YOU!About who?About YOU!- My two-year old's favorite song to sing</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554192773191895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554192773191895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106554192773191895' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106554182466564308</id><published>2003-10-07T10:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-07T10:50:24.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There are a number of good methods of disciplining house pets. For example, if your cat acts up, you spray it with water. When your puppy makes a mistake, you rub his nose in the dooky. But there just is no good way to discipline fish. Until now. I've found that it makes a really big impact on them if you play a recorded toilet flushing sound really close to the aquarium glass. Let me tell you, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554182466564308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554182466564308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106554182466564308' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106554170145591195</id><published>2003-10-07T10:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-07T10:48:21.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you cannot shove a guy down the stairs without expecting him to try to whack you with something.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554170145591195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554170145591195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106554170145591195' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106554160507170558</id><published>2003-10-07T10:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-07T11:10:26.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm getting a lot of comments by email, but not all of them are showing up on this page. I just wanted to let you know that I haven't been deleting them or anything. They just aren't popping up.I did delete one anonymous comment over the weekend, but the absence of the rest of the comments must mean that I need those necessary updates to Sensus Plenior. However, I do not want to aggravate the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554160507170558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106554160507170558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106554160507170558' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106541773363687060</id><published>2003-10-06T00:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-06T00:22:13.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Okay, look. There's no such thing as "half a sandwich". Just because you have half a piece of bread folded in two, or if you cut a sub roll in half, it does not make it half a sandwich. It is still a sandwich. It may be smaller than a regular sandwich, but it is just as much a sandwich. A sandwich is two pieces of bread with something in between. Maybe a half a sandwich is just one piece of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106541773363687060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106541773363687060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106541773363687060' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106541741021645072</id><published>2003-10-06T00:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-06T00:16:50.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've noticed that just about everybody who keeps a web log has been interviewing each other. I've thought about asking to be included, but I haven't for fear of getting a question that I don't want to answer. There are some questions that I would really love the opportunity to answer, but no one has ever asked them.So, rather than asking for someone else to interview me, I'll just interview my </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106541741021645072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106541741021645072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106541741021645072' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106532989737629159</id><published>2003-10-04T23:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-04T23:59:02.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think that an antique store is just a yard sale that is trying to become a legitimate business.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106532989737629159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106532989737629159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106532989737629159' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106532768346055164</id><published>2003-10-04T23:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-04T23:21:23.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The way I see it, the weather ain't never gonna be right until we take them rocks back up there to that moon.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106532768346055164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106532768346055164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106532768346055164' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106532765682370091</id><published>2003-10-04T23:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-04T23:20:56.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Wow and wow.I wonder who will be the first blogger to get his panties wadded up.Hilarious.Good thing I don't have a blog.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106532765682370091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106532765682370091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106532765682370091' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106521449220429225</id><published>2003-10-03T15:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-03T16:11:34.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I promised y'all a few words on Patrick Fairbairn's "Typology of Scripture". Well here they are.An Incomplete, Unbalanced and Quickly Thrown-together ReviewI imagine that Patrick Fairbairn’s definition of the usefulness of symbolism and typology in his mammoth two-volume work “Typology of Scripture” will seem narrow and stiff to most of those who have benefitted from the work of James Jordan,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106521449220429225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106521449220429225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106521449220429225' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106519319159432654</id><published>2003-10-03T09:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-03T10:00:52.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Female action figures... Did you ever have them? Did you like them?I had a Princess Leia and the GI Joe girl... Lady Jaye? Something like that. Anyway. I never did much with them. What could you do? Where is the honor in even a bad guy getting his butt kicked by a girl? And where is the honor in even a bad guy killing a girl? I made sure that even my bad guys followed civilized rules of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106519319159432654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106519319159432654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106519319159432654' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106510832107165871</id><published>2003-10-02T10:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-02T10:45:36.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Top ten best action figures ever...10. Battle Damage Skeletor9. The Atomic Man8. The M.U.S.C.L.E. guy with a hex-bolt for a head7. Destro6. Luke in the X-Wing pilot uniform5. Man-at-Arms 4. The original Storm Shadow3. Lando disguised as one of Jabba the Hutt's henchmen2. Gung-Ho with the grenade launcher1. Boba Fett</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106510832107165871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106510832107165871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106510832107165871' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106510762253384948</id><published>2003-10-02T10:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-02T10:15:25.660-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Saturday is election day around here, so there are placards, posters, billboards everywhere you look. Every flat surface in Louisiana has some candidate's name stapled to it. Not to mention that regular broadcast programming is frequently interrupted in order to air the latest response to the latest attack ad. So I feel compelled, even obligated to bring you my picks for the upcoming election.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106510762253384948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106510762253384948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106510762253384948' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106507030589510003</id><published>2003-10-01T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T23:51:45.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Limbaugh should know better than to use the word "black" in public.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106507030589510003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106507030589510003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106507030589510003' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106507019632164359</id><published>2003-10-01T23:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-04T23:53:59.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Yankees fans. They shoulda got sent home.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106507019632164359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106507019632164359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106507019632164359' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106504176813459405</id><published>2003-10-01T15:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T15:57:23.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>There are some days when I  just want to be able to forget the mistakes of my past, and move on with my life.  But how am I supposed to do that when the FBI is out back digging up my yard?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106504176813459405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106504176813459405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106504176813459405' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106502711051753869</id><published>2003-10-01T11:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T15:51:23.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Some people are like a bottle of fine wine.There are days when you just want to go ahead and shove a corkscrew into them, but then you decide to make yourself wait for that special occasion.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502711051753869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502711051753869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106502711051753869' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106502530686434494</id><published>2003-10-01T11:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T11:25:18.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>In case you are wondering, I'm pulling for...CubsRed SoxMarlins TwinsIn that order.I'm apathetic about the A's.I want the following teams to go out very early... Yankees BravesGiants </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502530686434494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502530686434494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106502530686434494' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106502296177214497</id><published>2003-10-01T10:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T10:42:41.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If you give a mouse a cookie, you feed him for a day.If you teach a mouse to make cookies, you never have to read that blessed book again.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502296177214497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502296177214497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106502296177214497' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106502277325930363</id><published>2003-10-01T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T23:29:01.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I've been accused of not liking any movie, of criticizing everything that I see and hating it all. Well, to be clear, I'm not attracted to pure spectacle, I am really put-off by wooden acting and retarded dialogue and even the most remote whiff of manipulative cinematography or story-telling causes me to never ever want to come near anything the guilty writer or director produces ever again. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502277325930363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106502277325930363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106502277325930363' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-106493715611449094</id><published>2003-09-30T10:52:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T10:41:44.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm here. Some folks say I should start writing again. Okay. But I'm not blogging. This is not a blog. I want to be clear about that. I'll write stuff and you can comment on it, but it ain't a blog. I've always hated that word. Blog. Whatever this is, it isn't a blog.Maybe I'll update my links someday. Maybe I won't.Maybe I'll add some color. Maybe I won't.Maybe I'll write every other day</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106493715611449094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/106493715611449094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106493715611449094' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-94769250</id><published>2003-05-22T22:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T10:41:08.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/94769250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/94769250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94769250' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93924991</id><published>2003-05-07T08:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-05-07T13:07:08.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do you remember back when I coined the term "going Garver"?Well now I'm coining a new one. "Going Garner." Maybe you can consolidate it into "going Gar*er".Anyway. I am pretty tired of me, and this blog has more of me than any reasonable person should be subjected to.I love you. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93924991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93924991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93924991' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93731565</id><published>2003-05-03T22:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-05-03T22:26:12.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I affirm: Fountain CokeI deny: Styrofoam cupsI affirm: PieI deny: Plastic forksI affirm: Baseball on the radioI deny: Cable TVI affirm: The Anglo-Genevan PsalterI deny: ChantingI affirm: BachI deny: HaydnI affirm: The knuckleballI deny: The home runI affirm:Lynard SkynardI deny: Barry ManilowI affirm: Really cold beerI deny: Tea with anything in it other than sugar </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93731565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93731565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93731565' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93688479</id><published>2003-05-02T23:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-05-02T23:05:59.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Here is an interesting article about psycho pamphleteer Jack Chick.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93688479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93688479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93688479' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93664246</id><published>2003-05-02T13:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-05-02T13:14:44.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Top 10 fun activities in Monroe:10. Go to Brookshire's and buy something small... tube of toothpaste, box of Kleenex. Ask that the bagger help you to your car. Park at the farthest end of the lot.9. Drive by my house seventeen times each evening blasting 50 Cent from your car stereo.8. Go to Enoch's. Get "translated".7. Appraise the value of real estate.6. Drive around the parking lot </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93664246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93664246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93664246' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93262444</id><published>2003-04-25T16:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-25T16:13:08.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Did I mention that I'm thankful for:People who are generous enough to boil heaps of crawfish and patient enough to teach a midwesterner how to eat them, and then hospitible enough not to comment on how the midwesterner ate his weight in them.Guys who can turn a wrench a couple of times and fix a vehicle problem that would have taken me all afternoon, or would have cost me lots of money to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93262444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93262444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93262444' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93201078</id><published>2003-04-24T16:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-24T16:33:53.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Remember the first Adam Sandler album? Remember the bit with the kid playing right field?That's the way I feel when I play outfield.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93201078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93201078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93201078' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-93199285</id><published>2003-04-24T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-24T16:00:25.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A list of some of my favorite words:DiscretionUnderstatementPropriety</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93199285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/93199285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93199285' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-92405079</id><published>2003-04-10T22:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-10T22:51:34.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I think I'm going to go down to the ULM campus Friday evening at 6:30 to watch some college baseball. Anybody else care to go?Sarah has something else going on, so I'm going to have Bailey with me... that means I might get stay the whole game, I might stay five innings. I just have a real need to see some guys standing around on some grass.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92405079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92405079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92405079' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-92266797</id><published>2003-04-08T22:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-08T22:53:44.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>You know those really ugly dogs you see locked in cars when you are walking through a parking lot?Are they ugly because they get left in cars? Or do they get left in cars because they're ugly?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92266797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92266797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92266797' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-92194733</id><published>2003-04-07T22:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-07T22:13:28.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quick, go turn on your TV.Iraqi Information Minister Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf is on CNN claiming that his country's forces are still in control of the Eastern seaboard, EuroDisney and most of Rohan.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92194733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92194733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92194733' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-92117803</id><published>2003-04-06T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-07T22:29:14.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm a breakfast cereal addict with a three-box-a-week habit. I'm also trying to cut budget corners everywhere I can... which has lead me to start buying the bagged cereals. Have you tried the bagged cereals? There's no toy inside the package, and the well-known cereal mascot like Toucan Sam or Cap'n Crunch is replaced by a cut-rate giraffe driving a bus or monkey with sunglasses, but overall </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92117803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/92117803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92117803' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-91991884</id><published>2003-04-04T11:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-04-04T11:10:52.483-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This guy has posted pictures of the prizes that came in cereal boxes in the 60's and 70's. If you ate as much Fruity Pebbles as I did, you might remember this and this.I carried my lunch money in my Dino coin purse forever. The Fruity Pebbles smell was deeply imbedded in the plastic, so whenever I needed a Pebbles fix I would just hold it close to my nose and inhale. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91991884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91991884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91991884' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-91960098</id><published>2003-04-03T22:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-04-03T22:27:22.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I don't know if the radio stations in your area do this, but the stations here bleep the word "cocaine" in the Kid Rock / Cheryl Crow duet. So the whole song is about fornication, but for some reason cocaine is the thematic element that is so taboo that it gets axed. That said, I can't get the tune out of my head.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91960098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91960098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91960098' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-91959141</id><published>2003-04-03T22:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-04-03T22:11:03.950-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Quiet Riot played Monroe tonight. Time to throw in the towel, boys.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91959141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91959141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91959141' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-91959113</id><published>2003-04-03T22:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-04-03T22:21:51.000-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A few days back Capezza posted a question about who would play him if they made a movie about his life. My comment ended up getting lost when he switched blog formats, so I'll repeat my incredible dead-on answer to that question here... Oliver Platt.You know I'm right. Here are some other actors I think could do a good job of playing some of you. Click on the name to find the actor.BoothAmos</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91959113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91959113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91959113' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-91890641</id><published>2003-04-02T22:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-04-02T22:22:23.903-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Jon Amos wants to hear the milk story.Not really a story is it? Nothing to it really.Somebody mentioned that it was near impossible to consume a gallon of whole milk in an hour. I took exception to that statement, knowing that I really like milk, and that I have a pretty large abdomen, I thought that it would be wise to test that theory. I drank maybe three quarters of it before feeling like </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91890641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91890641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91890641' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3331115.post-91890227</id><published>2003-04-02T22:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2003-04-02T22:15:11.436-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I put in a full day of work today. It's good to return to the ranks of the gainfully employed. Made about fifty cold calls today and only got thrown out of one office.All I'm going to be doing for several weeks is cold-canvassing businesses. If you think about me in the next few days, pray that the businesses I contact will be receptive and listen to what I have to offer them. I can only save </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91890227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3331115/posts/default/91890227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amberbach.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91890227' title=''/><author><name>Sarah G.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16417006638905350977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
