<?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-5074183112003466440</id><updated>2012-01-15T22:22:54.518-07:00</updated><category term='Help'/><category term='About Katrina'/><category term='New Years'/><category term='Goals'/><category term='Love'/><category term='life'/><category term='Resolutions'/><title type='text'>Life of that One Girl</title><subtitle type='html'>Nothing special here. Just random thoughts barfed out onto the screen. Enjoy!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-9006888714380858480</id><published>2012-01-15T22:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T22:22:54.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What does "Best Friend" really mean?</title><content type='html'>Fair warning.... this is a really long post just about my bitching. =^)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news..... I have crappy friends. We some of them seem to suck more so than the others. We really, one to be specific has really upset me and it seems she has no idea that she did, which makes it like ten time worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This friend is getting married in July of this year. Aside from what some may think, I am extremely happy for her. I am so happy that she found someone that loves her they way she needs to loved and makes her happy. Now, where the issue comes in is how the relationship started and how fast it has moved. But at this point in time I have accepted this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes her a crappy friend is the fact that we have been friends for about 18 years. Yes over those years we were constantly inseparable and we weren't the closest, but once we reconnected, you would have never known there was any time apart. Ever since she has started dating this guy, I never see her. When I do it's never just her, he is ALWAYS there. Which, whatever, I guess when you are couple you always want to be together if you can, I guess. That really isn't the point. What I am the most upset about is that me, her best friend, the one that has known her the longest, that knows all of her secrets, and almost everything about her... is not the Maid of Honor. Which again, okay whatever, it's your wedding you can chose whoever you want to be a part of it, but the least you can do is tell me. I really shouldn't have to hear it from all the other girls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In October, I think, we went to a bridal show to get ideas for her wedding. I asked if she was having a wedding party and she said just me and another one of our friends. No specific titles were stated. So I assumed that she wasn't having a Maid of Honor. I assumed that we were both kind of filling the role. But you know what assuming does..... So, a few days before Christmas the girls got together for dinner to exchange gifts. She, of course, flaked out. While we were all talking one friend, J,&amp;nbsp;mentioned that&amp;nbsp;BFF had told her that B (the friend that went to the bridal show with us) was the Maid of Honor. This not only was a surprise to me, but is was to B as well. She had no idea that this is what BFF wanted. So since this dinner BFF and I have hung out a few times and she has yet to mention it. I think that makes me this most irritated is that she doesn't have the balls to tell me that I really don't mean that much to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday we, BFF, B-MOH, J, and of course Hubs, had breakfast. We were suppose to go wedding dress shopping, but she decided to cancel at the last minute and just get breakfast instead. So while at breakfast, we were talking about the wedding. I, of course, have no idea what's going on because I haven't been included in the planning at all. Due to being left out completely of my best friends wedding plans, I was&amp;nbsp; a little upset. I was asked what was wrong and I really didn't want to get into it there so I said I was fine. After we left the restaurant, BFF had the guts to text me and ask if I was really okay. I responded with I've lost my best friend. Which she responded with, How? Really? You have to ask how? Hmmmmm maybe because I am not her MOH, maybe because I haven't been included in a damn thing with plans for the wedding, maybe because we NEVER talk anymore, maybe because we NEVER hang out anymore, maybe because she doesn't have the guts to be honest with me, this list could go on forever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I have no idea what to do. Do I approach her and call her out or do I just let her come around? I kind of just want to say eff you have a nice life, but it's hard to just toss 18 years friendship out the window. I just don't know. This Friday the three of us (me, BFF, and B) are suppose to get dinner and "talk". I assume they are going to officially tell me that I am not MOH. I really really don't want to go. I don't want to waste anymore energy on all of this. I just want to put it behind me and move on. Ahhhhhh!!!!! I don't know............................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading, if you made it this far. I will keep you posted on what happens. "As the world turns, these are the days of our lives...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-9006888714380858480?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/9006888714380858480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=9006888714380858480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/9006888714380858480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/9006888714380858480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2012/01/what-does-best-friend-really-mean.html' title='What does &quot;Best Friend&quot; really mean?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-7153317688118957048</id><published>2012-01-15T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T21:43:27.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2012 Is Happening Now</title><content type='html'>Well, the new year has begun and I never achieved anything I had set out to do last year. I don't consider myself a failure, it just means that I need to try harder this year. Yes, I am going to the steriotypical goals this year; live healthier (a.k.a. lose weight), get my finances in order, and maybe get some schooling in. Blah blah blah you know the rest of how all this goes. I will try and be better at keeping things updated around here too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-7153317688118957048?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/7153317688118957048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=7153317688118957048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/7153317688118957048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/7153317688118957048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2012/01/2012-is-happening-now.html' title='2012 Is Happening Now'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3679080375121108097</id><published>2011-11-26T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T19:45:58.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here Comes the Holidays</title><content type='html'>So I just typed this big long blah blah blah about how weird, yet great,&amp;nbsp;it was this Thanksgiving without my family and a lot more blah blah blah about all the issues that are going between us. I deleted it. Why did I delete you ask? Well.... because it's not worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a little turkey dinner here at home. We had Valory for the day so we went to the movies, made dinner, and played Monopoly on the Wii. It was a lot of fun and very relaxing change. I am excited to see what Christmas will bring. I have a ton of shopping to do still, but I have made a decent dent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been pretty good lately. I was able to buy a new car after the Sentra died. It has been a lot of fun! Money is really tight and stressful, but things are working out. I got a new position at work in the HR department, which came with an okay raise. It's been rough learning all new things and giving up the things I have been doing for the past four year. But all in all it will be great once I will get the hang of it all. This was a pretty lame update. I will try and do better next time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading! =-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3679080375121108097?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3679080375121108097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3679080375121108097' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3679080375121108097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3679080375121108097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/11/here-comes-holidays.html' title='Here Comes the Holidays'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-299924975240353339</id><published>2011-09-22T22:18:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T22:18:30.439-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Look Ma I'm Famous!</title><content type='html'>So, random thing happened today... A friend of mine knows Matt Gephardt from Channel 2 News. He posted something on Facebook&amp;nbsp; asking if anyone knew a Katrina in the Salt Lake Area. So my friend tagged me in her comment and asked if I wanted to help with a story. I commented with sure. Matt then messaged me and told me who he was doing a story about how wild fires and hurricanes are named. So he was wanting to interview a few people that have the same names and what comments they receive because of it. So as a result.... I will be interviewed tomorrow at 10:30am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am kind of freaking a little bit. What do I wear? I am a total goober! I am so nervous! Ahhhhhh!!!! Not to mention, I hope I don't get in trouble for them coming to my work. I will have to talk to my boss as soon as I get to work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will let you know how it all turns out. =^)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-299924975240353339?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/299924975240353339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=299924975240353339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/299924975240353339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/299924975240353339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/09/look-ma-im-famous.html' title='Look Ma I&apos;m Famous!'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-5774306166217246861</id><published>2011-08-20T00:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T00:11:39.991-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Life Changing..... Maybe</title><content type='html'>Boyfriend wants out of Utah as much as a fat kid wants chocolate cake. Last year he decided he was moving to Colorado when our lease was up. Luckily, for me, he started his business and didn't have the money to move. So, we re-signed the lease for another year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would love to find a house with a yard for the doggies to run around. We looked into buying one, but because I am a total idiot and I wouldn't be able to qualify on the loan. So as of right this moment we are stuck here, for the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the life changing possibly part. He recently went to a quick trip to Oregon and re-fell in love with the state. He wants to do everything he can to move there next June once our lease ends. The real questions, do I move with him? Does he really want me to go with him? If I do move will we be able to survive there? Will we be able to find a job? What about those that I am leaving behind?&amp;nbsp;I really don't know what to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes you really look into your relationship. There are endless amounts of questions to be asked and absolutely no one has the answers but you. You really have to do some soul searching and discovering those answers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish it was easier. I wish I could phone a friend and find out what I am suppose to do in life and who and where I am suppose to end up with. Life isn't that hard. No matter what you do it will continue to happen around you with or without you. Pick your path...... I HATE DECISION MAKING.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-5774306166217246861?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/5774306166217246861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=5774306166217246861' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/5774306166217246861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/5774306166217246861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/08/life-changing-maybe.html' title='Life Changing..... Maybe'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3924951330884514453</id><published>2011-06-18T16:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T16:02:36.396-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So much has been going on the last while, yet it seems like nothing. Just normal run of the mill daily life, but overall is has been very busy and almost overwhelming. Where to start….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about we go with friendship. My so called best friend has pretty much disowned me and would rather hang out with her married, yes he’s married, boyfriend than me. Which there is nothing I can do about, so there’s no sense in being upset about it; but I still am upset. It’s irritating that she blows off me all the time. Doesn’t bother letting me know she isn’t going to make it or eff off or anything. One of my biggest pet peeves, if you don’t want to do something or can’t make it, just be honest with me. Don’t just leave me high and dry and then text me an hour or so later with some dumb excuse. It’s total bs and makes me very irritated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WdbI_jdW8t8/Tf0gIDeKvgI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MyYw4VLeGDs/s1600/DSC04576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WdbI_jdW8t8/Tf0gIDeKvgI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MyYw4VLeGDs/s320/DSC04576.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay enough ranting about that. On a happier note about friendship…. Two of my very good friend married on another on Friday, June 10, 2011. Most people would look at our history and wonder how the heck we all can be friends. To be honest, I don’t know, but I do know that it’s just how it’s supposed to be. I wish them the best of the best and know they will have a terrific life together. I am kind of envious of what they have. Someday I&lt;br /&gt;will get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t talked to my parents or my step-sister since mid-March. My dad chose to post a not so awesome comment on Facebook and well, to keep it short, it blew up. As a result, it ruined my relationship with my family. Which overall, I am kind of okay with. I haven’t really felt part of the family in quit some time. They would always do their own thing and never include me. I know they would sum it up to me never wanting to go or me not being able to go, but why would I want to go somewhere when I know I am not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;wanted. I think the hardest part is I miss my niece and nephew the most. My nephew is just a baby, but I am missing out on all that fun baby stuff. My niece and I were really close. We spend a lot of time together when she was little. But it’s their choice to said they things they did and I don’t think anything will change until someone apologizes and well, I don’t think it’ll be me because I don’t think I did anything wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, blah blah blah. That's all at the moment. Well there is more, but not to share at this time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love ya'll!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3924951330884514453?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3924951330884514453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3924951330884514453' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3924951330884514453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3924951330884514453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/06/so-much-has-been-going-on-last-while.html' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WdbI_jdW8t8/Tf0gIDeKvgI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MyYw4VLeGDs/s72-c/DSC04576.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-8070549650316079645</id><published>2011-05-25T13:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T13:11:36.411-06:00</updated><title type='text'>formspring.me</title><content type='html'>Ask me anything &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333" target="_blank"&gt;http://formspring.me/katlong333&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-8070549650316079645?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/8070549650316079645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=8070549650316079645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/8070549650316079645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/8070549650316079645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/05/formspringme.html' title='formspring.me'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-2790699990025157900</id><published>2011-05-09T23:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T23:47:19.953-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Strut Your Mutt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.strutyourmutt.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&amp;amp;eventID=503&amp;amp;participantID=3484"&gt;Strut Your Mutt! Click here to donate!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help all those furry friends that need love and support! Animals mean a lot to me and I would be deeply grateful if you helped support me. Every small bit helps. Thank you so much in advance! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woDMbc7WzY8/TcjRQcvki9I/AAAAAAAAAFc/ZvG2X0_CJ-Q/s1600/l_2de8bec212ae4e85b9f3bbb11055c3d5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="256" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woDMbc7WzY8/TcjRQcvki9I/AAAAAAAAAFc/ZvG2X0_CJ-Q/s320/l_2de8bec212ae4e85b9f3bbb11055c3d5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-2790699990025157900?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/2790699990025157900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=2790699990025157900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/2790699990025157900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/2790699990025157900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/05/strut-your-mutt.html' title='Strut Your Mutt'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woDMbc7WzY8/TcjRQcvki9I/AAAAAAAAAFc/ZvG2X0_CJ-Q/s72-c/l_2de8bec212ae4e85b9f3bbb11055c3d5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-5904146967166262423</id><published>2011-04-13T17:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T17:40:05.065-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishes..... Maybe Just in Need of Motivation</title><content type='html'>So.... I have been thinking a lot about all the changes I wish would take place in my life. There are so many things I would like to do in my life. I feel like I doing life wrong. Hearing about and reading about all these other people's lives and I am so envious! I wish I had talent and creativity to create some of the things they create. I wish I had the money to be able to buy the things I need to have the life I dream about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know everyone will just say that my life can be whatever I want it to be and I just need to DO IT! Well, sadly it's so much easier said than done. I wish I had closer family and friends that shared my interests that could help do some of the things I want to do. I want more out life and I just can't seem to be able to find out how to get that more. I feel like I am stuck in this hole and have no tools to climb out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell if I am just making excuses for everything or if I am just not meant to have a full life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would love to take all kinds of pictures of everyone and everything. I can't because I can't afford a nice camera. I am not very creative and can't take pictures well. I don't have the money to buy a photo editing software, not to mention I don't have the first clue how to use it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wish I could cook better. I admire so many people for their creative cooking skills. It's so hard to cook for just two people without out having a million left overs and a lot of times I am actually cooking for just one because Travis works nights. I can't afford all the gizmos and gadgets that go along with cooking or the ingredients for the food. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would love to be thinner. Over the last 5 years I have gained a horrible amount a weight. I have all these ideas, but I never follow through with them. Back to the cooking, it's hard to cook healthy and eat better. I lack a massive amount of motivation. By the time I get off work I just want to relax. I don't want to go to the gym. I sit on my butt all day long in my office. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have a really awesome blog. Full of pictures and exciting things to say. I just don't know how.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Those are only a few. I could go on, but I think you get the point. So now that I think about it. I need help... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone have any motivating ideas? I will take anything you through at me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-5904146967166262423?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/5904146967166262423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=5904146967166262423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/5904146967166262423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/5904146967166262423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/04/wishes-maybe-just-in-need-of-motivation.html' title='Wishes..... Maybe Just in Need of Motivation'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-6844835613866613085</id><published>2011-03-28T22:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T22:10:07.828-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise Birthday Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;This year I turned the big 25!! It was kind of a weird concept to think about. I am a quarter century old!! I have moved into another age bracket. I don't know. I know I am just overreacting, but it was a hard one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;This year my birthday was on a Saturday. Went into the day with nothing planned. Found out Travis didn't work until 4:00 PM, so that was awesome! I ended up going to lunch with my Grandma, my aunts, and my cousin. It was fantastic! I love those gals so much. So, all and all it was a chill day. I don't really know what I was expecting, but it was just another day really. Relaxed all evening and then Travis came home around 11:00 PM. I kept wondering what he got me for my birthday. I didn't want to ask because that's just rude, so I just got to keep waiting. As the night went on, he says to me, "Sorry I didn't get you anything for your birthday." In which I reply, "You really didn't get me anything?" He says, "Nope, I didn't have time. Sorry!" I reply, "Ummm.... you had the last 364 days to get me something. What do you mean you didn't have time?" He just says, "Sorry!" So, I am a little ticked, but there's not point in getting all that upset. In the back of my mind I thought he might have somthing up his sleve. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now it is late Sunday night (03/13/11), We are wrapping up the night and he tells me I need to pack a bag for three days we are going on a trip. I&amp;nbsp;am shocked.&amp;nbsp;He wouldn't tell me where&amp;nbsp;we are going, just that we need to leave early in the morning and it'll be warm and pack a bathing suit. At this point I am freaking out because I am a planner.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;found out something about myself too,&amp;nbsp;I like being in control. I love surprises, but I really hate not&amp;nbsp;knowing what's going on. Yeah, I don't&amp;nbsp;get it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get up, pack up our bags.&amp;nbsp;Me, packing everything because I don't know what to expect. Load up the dogs and we&amp;nbsp;hit the road. Luckly though, he was&amp;nbsp;called into work for a couple hours, so that gave me some time to get some things that I thought we&amp;nbsp;might need. We dropped the&amp;nbsp;dogs off at his mom's grab lunch and around 1:30 PM hit the road&amp;nbsp;to I don't know where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed&amp;nbsp;South. I knew it wasn't Vegas because he said it wasn't anywhere I would guess.&amp;nbsp;We just kept driving...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sb1GAwHZ8RE/TY7Cgtr_XfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/st9r6Dm90DE/s1600/DSC01749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sb1GAwHZ8RE/TY7Cgtr_XfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/st9r6Dm90DE/s320/DSC01749.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CxVWGKiqBzw/TY7ClsvnXYI/AAAAAAAAAEs/yMUmHGt1jzg/s1600/DSC01750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CxVWGKiqBzw/TY7ClsvnXYI/AAAAAAAAAEs/yMUmHGt1jzg/s320/DSC01750.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;Travis, thrilled to be driving&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Me, excited to find out where we'll end up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0cP8ikLWeXA/TY7CrFRcKSI/AAAAAAAAAEw/kUDe2B17k8c/s1600/DSC01751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0cP8ikLWeXA/TY7CrFRcKSI/AAAAAAAAAEw/kUDe2B17k8c/s320/DSC01751.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;The scenery&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So, we just kept driving, and driving and driving. We stopped a few times, I drove a little. Still no clue where we are going.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QW3SItKMmFs/TY7DlQZ9UjI/AAAAAAAAAE0/3ZIrtmcmSbE/s1600/DSC01752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QW3SItKMmFs/TY7DlQZ9UjI/AAAAAAAAAE0/3ZIrtmcmSbE/s320/DSC01752.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nija Turtle Car.... too awesome not to take a piture of&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lcGitDrxIw4/TY7Dw229FXI/AAAAAAAAAE4/J9x450BgS74/s1600/DSC01753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lcGitDrxIw4/TY7Dw229FXI/AAAAAAAAAE4/J9x450BgS74/s320/DSC01753.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-am8a-iTbI_Q/TY7D6dfsPRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/MHRt7lSje_o/s1600/DSC01755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-am8a-iTbI_Q/TY7D6dfsPRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/MHRt7lSje_o/s320/DSC01755.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eediyI5DQQw/TY7EBXC7POI/AAAAAAAAAFA/iLnB51E8ZdQ/s1600/DSC01756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eediyI5DQQw/TY7EBXC7POI/AAAAAAAAAFA/iLnB51E8ZdQ/s320/DSC01756.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was a fun drive. We talked and listened to music. It was fun just to be together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I was driving and he told me to head to St. Geoge. Once we arrived in St. George we pulled off to stretch, potty, and switch drivers. We hit the road again. About an hour later, Travis says that he is going to pull off and use the bathroom again at the Casa Blanca. I respond with okay, but there is a Walmart across the street, why don't we go there. He just didn't want to. At this point I am getting a little suspicious. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We walk in and start wandering around trying to find the bathroom. I spot and let him know it's over here. He says no it's over here and dragged me towards the registration desk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Guess what? We checked in!!! We had so much fun! I didn't win any money at all, but we swam, for massages, relaxed in the spa, and went bowling. It was fantastic!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I love you Travis! Thank you for making it awesome!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-6844835613866613085?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/6844835613866613085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=6844835613866613085' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6844835613866613085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6844835613866613085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/03/surprise-birthday-trip.html' title='Surprise Birthday Trip'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sb1GAwHZ8RE/TY7Cgtr_XfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/st9r6Dm90DE/s72-c/DSC01749.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3634028417005555379</id><published>2011-03-23T20:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T21:01:01.044-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Slacker.....</title><content type='html'>So.... as for this whole new Katrina thing..... I have been a slacker. I haven't done a whole lot with it. But some reacent conversation have made me really motivated. Things are going to happen if it kills me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I joined a gym, I don't really have the money for it, but I know I need it. I am going to plan meals better and heathier. It's time to get serious! I am going to be my best to work out for at least 30 minutes every day, 2 hours max. I would love any company if you are up to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as of right now, the standings are about the same:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weight - 233 pounds&lt;br /&gt;Month Goal - Lose 10 pounds&lt;br /&gt;Life Goal - Weigh 135 pounds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3634028417005555379?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3634028417005555379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3634028417005555379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3634028417005555379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3634028417005555379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/03/slacker.html' title='Slacker.....'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-6898293024492647621</id><published>2011-03-04T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-04T21:21:25.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Katrina in the Works</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;A few days ago I was getting ready for work one morning. I just gotten out of the shower and was in my bedroom getting dressed. I walked over to my closet to grab my slacks and top. I happen to glanced over at the full length mirror that's near the closet. I was in my bra and undies...... all I could see what a whole lot of nasty! I was astonished at what my reflection in the mirror. I have really let myself go. That was a moment I decided I really need to do something. I get back to where I should be. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;So I thought what a better motivation than to embarrass myself to the whole world as motivation. I am going to post weekly updates on where I am at and how I am doing. As of now, it's started off slow. I did work out on the Wii Fit for and hour and fifteen mintues. I know that's not a lot, but it's a start. I have been working on eating heathier and cutting back soda. That's my biggest problem. Devil soda!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;So here is what I look like now: Currently weighing 233 pounds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Tqtnfu5p9Po/TXG5hwqirJI/AAAAAAAAAEA/W-UH7w6c7c4/s1600/DSC04481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Tqtnfu5p9Po/TXG5hwqirJI/AAAAAAAAAEA/W-UH7w6c7c4/s320/DSC04481.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zZ2WebMbP-I/TXG5lt670WI/AAAAAAAAAEE/GZCHcrrAZCc/s1600/DSC04482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zZ2WebMbP-I/TXG5lt670WI/AAAAAAAAAEE/GZCHcrrAZCc/s320/DSC04482.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Idea goal weight is 140 pounds. That won't happen for some time. So short term goal is to be 220 pounds on April 1, 2011. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Wish me luck!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-6898293024492647621?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/6898293024492647621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=6898293024492647621' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6898293024492647621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6898293024492647621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-katrina-in-works.html' title='New Katrina in the Works'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Tqtnfu5p9Po/TXG5hwqirJI/AAAAAAAAAEA/W-UH7w6c7c4/s72-c/DSC04481.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3700821459040491977</id><published>2011-02-23T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T20:56:59.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship</title><content type='html'>Friendship - the relationship between people that call themselves......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have recently come to find that I really don't have friends any more. It seems they have all drifted away to be obsorbed into their own lives. Call me selfish, but it really makes me sad. You should be able to manage time between all that need your time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a friend means being there when I need you. Being a friend means hanging out with each other. Being a friend means being honest with one another. Being a friend means not flaking out when you make plans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the old relationships I had with certain people. Yes, don't get me wrong, I have friends, but I lost my best friends. I don't know what happened. I guess life did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3700821459040491977?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3700821459040491977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3700821459040491977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3700821459040491977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3700821459040491977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/02/friendship.html' title='Friendship'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3790716469226469094</id><published>2011-02-05T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T21:46:16.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 12 The Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;So after a few skipped over details later here we are. Travis and I moved in together June 8, 2009. We have a wonderful cozy town home in South Salt Lake. We live with our two dogs and Valory comes to visit ever so often. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;As of right now, I have no idea where this will lead. Every day is a new adventure that I look forward to living. ;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Putting a brief on right now, I work at UPS, he works at Famous Dave's and runs his own business. The dogs, well they are dogs and don't do much. That's about all that is happen in the present. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Now that everyone is all caught up on my life I can blog about the random garbage that happens in my day to day life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Thank you all for listening and&amp;nbsp;never be afraid to ask me any questions about anything.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Let the randomness begin..........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3790716469226469094?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3790716469226469094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3790716469226469094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3790716469226469094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3790716469226469094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/02/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-12-now.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 12 The Now'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-7833257081907589052</id><published>2011-01-28T22:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T21:32:34.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 11 The Girlfriend Ring</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;I am not sure on the exact day, but I would say sometime the beginning of April we were wandering around Fashion Place Mall. We stop at a kiosk and look at the jewelry. I was looking at the different rings and he asks me which one do I like. I tell him and he asks the lady working if we can look at them. So we are looking at them and I am trying them on and I fall in love with a silver ring with flowers on it. He asks if it fits, I say yes, but it's only on my left ring finger (you know the one that the wedding ring eventually goes on). He says I don't mind if you wear it on that finger.&amp;nbsp;I am just looking at him in awe. My head is spinning and I am trying to figure out what is going on. So he tells the lady he would like to buy it. I get all giddy. She takes it and shines it up and hands it back to me. He rips it out of my hand and says that's my ring. I was shocked and didn't know what to say, so I just let it go. We left the mall after that and never spoke of it again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;April 25, 2008, it was a Friday. I had made plans to go over to Travis's house and hang out. I get off work and had to run home and get somethings. I tried to get a hold of him to make sure that he was home and remembered we had plans, but he wasn't answering me. I was kind of irritated. I decided to just head up there any way and hope he remembered. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;At the time I was living in Murray and he was living in Bountiful. Under normal conditions it's about a 30 minute drive from my house to his. On this rather warm April evening I jump in my not air conditioned because it's broken black car and head up there. So this time of day is rush hour, so traffic is backed up and moving very slowly. I still can't get a hold of Travis and I am thinking if I drive all the way up there and he isn't there I am gonna be so pissed. And I am really hot due to the black non-air conditioned car. Grrrrr.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TU4kMe6g5nI/AAAAAAAAAD8/nv28ZoNQE74/s1600/Kat+and+trav.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TU4kMe6g5nI/AAAAAAAAAD8/nv28ZoNQE74/s320/Kat+and+trav.bmp" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;About an hour later I pull into the driveway. I was happy to see his car, but irritated beyond belief about everything else. So I get out and pound on his door. No answer. I pound harder. Buddy, his dog is barking. He finally come to the door, half asleep. I am mad. I storm in and plop on the couch and watch TV and try and calm down. He hollers from the other room to come here, I respond no you come here. He hollers again, I respond no. He finally comes in and grabs my hand and pulls me off the couch. I grouchily say What! He then gets down on one knee, (my heart races and my head spins) and says, "So, you make real happy and stuff. Will you be my Girlfriend?" I am speechless. It was so adorable. I smile every time I think about it. I said "YES!" He stands up and gives me a kiss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Twitterppated!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-7833257081907589052?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/7833257081907589052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=7833257081907589052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/7833257081907589052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/7833257081907589052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/01/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-11.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 11 The Girlfriend Ring'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TU4kMe6g5nI/AAAAAAAAAD8/nv28ZoNQE74/s72-c/Kat+and+trav.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-2262159904841794054</id><published>2011-01-28T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T21:49:06.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 10</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;So... now what happens? Well Travis texted me and we chatted for a while. We decided to meet up at Chili's to get some food and catch up. It was a busy Friday night and there I sat at the table.... alone. He was late, but didn't stand me up. We shared a Sampler and talked about what has happened in our lives and what we are doing now. We then finished eating and decided to go over to Hollywood Connection and that just down the street. We had an absolute blast!!!! We played mini golf and dumb arcade games. We laughed and ate Ice cream. It was awesome. I still have the pen (that doesn't write) that he got me with his tickets. So what started as just hang out and catch up turned into a date. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Food + an activity = a date. And there is where it began....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;We kept chatting here and there. We went on another date to the old bowling alley on&amp;nbsp;State Street.&amp;nbsp;We had a ton of fun then too. That was the first time I got to see a&amp;nbsp;bit of the real&amp;nbsp;kooky Travis. We were goofing off and drinking beer, laughing and&amp;nbsp;just enjoying each other.&amp;nbsp;We kept bribing each other to&amp;nbsp;get a strike. He told me he would&amp;nbsp;kiss me if I got one. I got one and kissed my hand,&amp;nbsp;then the&amp;nbsp;cheek, and I was doing the same with him.&amp;nbsp;We&amp;nbsp;never made it to the lips..... until we were in the parking&amp;nbsp;lot saying&amp;nbsp;goodbye.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;After that&amp;nbsp;I was looking at his MySpace page and thought, "Wow, he has a lot of hussies on here. He is just a player. I don't really want to play games." So, I&amp;nbsp;didn't talk to him as much and kinda killed to relationship.&amp;nbsp;About a week or so later and realized I kind of missed him. I didn't really have anything else going so I decided what the hell. I am young and I am going to have some&amp;nbsp;fun and just date.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;don't need to "with" someone to have a good time. So I started texting him again. We decided to meet up and get Ice Cream.&amp;nbsp;Once we were done we&amp;nbsp;walked over to Barns and Noble and looked around, then went over to Best Buy and pretended to buy appliances for&amp;nbsp;our new house. It was so funny.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Over&amp;nbsp;the next couple months we&amp;nbsp;hung out a lot. I would go up to his house in Bountiful and we would just hang out. As time when&amp;nbsp;on it seemed we were only hanging out with each other and no one else.&amp;nbsp;So much for the just&amp;nbsp;dating&amp;nbsp;thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Courier New;"&gt;Next up... The Girlfriend Ring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-2262159904841794054?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/2262159904841794054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=2262159904841794054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/2262159904841794054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/2262159904841794054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2011/01/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-10.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 10'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1018854035551697488</id><published>2010-11-26T22:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T23:44:16.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 9 The Story of Travis</title><content type='html'>I know there is a lot I rushed through and didn't go into a whole lot of detail about. The main reason for that is that I have a feeling I am boring you all and you would rather eat broken glass than read more, but if you have an interest in a certain part, questions, and/or comments about anything, don't hesitate to ask. I am an open book or rather an open blog. =^)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we are now in mid-January 2008. One of my dear best friends, Bonnie,&amp;nbsp;were hanging out one night. I had taken her home and we were sitting in my car talking. We were talking about girl stuff and whatever else. She mentions that she was talking to an old friend of ours Travis.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the story with Travis:&lt;br /&gt;Summer between 7th and 8th grade (1999). My best friend at the time, Jenn, was "going out" with this guy Travis who was 2 years older than her. He came over and hung out with a few times and then they broke up. For some reason he kept in touch with me. We would talk on the phone all the time and the for whatever reason he decided he like me and "asked me out". You as much as two Jr. High kids can "go out". In all honesty I really didn't like him. He was super skinny and kinda goofy looking, but it was exciting because he was older. So, we would talk on and off on the phone. He rode is bike down to my house one day. Which is kind of a hefty ride. He brought his friend Derek over too. So we just kinda hung out and talked, Shari was there with us. Then when they were about to leave, he pushed Shari and Derek outside and closed the door, pushed me against it and gave me a nice romantic kiss. It was in fact my FIRST kiss. And is was pretty awesome for a first kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after that we didn't ever see each other, due to being so young and not having cars. We would talk on the phone every now and again, but eventually we just drifted apart and pretty much called is quites. But over the next few years we would talk on the phone occasionally and we would run into one another randomly. It was kind of strange how we always ended up popping into one another's life one way or another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few years later, I would guess my Junior year of High School, Travis and I were talking. He was single and was asking if I had any single friends he might be interested in. (At the time I was seeing Richard. Which reminds me, I don't know know why I skipped over him. He played a big part in my life too. I guess it was because he was in the middle of the drama at home. Sorry Richard!) Anyway, the only person I could think of was my best friend Bonnie. So I hooked them up and they dated for quite some time. I am not sure what happened between them or why it ended but as you can see it did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that pretty much brings us back to where I started. Bonnie was telling me that she had been talking to Travis not to long ago. I, being single at the time, asked is he was single and that she should give him my number. She said she would, and that's how we started.... again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really kind of strange how someone can pop in and out of your life for so long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1018854035551697488?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1018854035551697488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1018854035551697488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1018854035551697488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1018854035551697488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/11/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-9-story.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 9 The Story of Travis'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-6980649123860809300</id><published>2010-11-24T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T19:29:35.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 8</title><content type='html'>Wow... That has taken a lot longer than I expected it too. Sorry for all of those of you that I have bored. Hopefully I can get to the present and not go on and on about the past. I don't know what made me want to tell you about my life. I guess I just wanted it to get out there and for kind of a journal. I am sorry there aren't any pictures. I promise future posts will include pictures. Thank you all for taking the time to read my babble. Love you all. So, here goes......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point in my life it was June-ish 2007. I am currently single with no dates in mind. (I don't really know how to "date"), living in my very own apartment, and working as a Universal agent at the UPS Customer Service Center; a.k.a. UPS's phone center. What I was doing wasn't horrible, but it wasn't my favorite. But the end of the June my career at UPS to a turn for the awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put in for a position that I had no idea about, but an old supervisor told me I should put in for it. I did the interview and hoped for the best. A day or two later I was told I got the job! I was so excited yet terrified all in one. I would be off the phones, but then I had no idea what I would be doing. I would be in an office, with people I have no idea who they were. But as I looked back at my life I see that I never took chances, so I said "What the hell! Let's do this!" I become a Site Quality Admin on June 28, 2007. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out I LOVE my job! I have learned so much in that office. So much about computers and programs. Currently, I am still in that same position and love every day of it. What my day consists of is running a few reports about how the site's quality is doing and information the the Quality Measurement Group sends us. I also create communications and post them on our internal web site. Who knew I had a create bug? I really love my job and couldn't be happier doing what I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with any job, we have changes and management moves. In the three and a half years I have been in that office I have had 4 different supervisors. The first, Todd. He was a good guy. He was my first supervisor when I started at UPS. I didn't know him very well and sadly he was only there for a couple months. Next I had Dave. I had never met him before, and my fellow co-workers didn't know much about him. I honestly don't remember a good day with him.... I did my best to see the good in him, but for some reason we just couldn't get a long. He came in a changed everything we knew on how to do our jobs. He knit picked everything and just made you feel like garbage. I know a lot of hostility came from a girl that worked in my office, Amy. She was a very strong willed person and I couldn't help follow. Sadly, I didn't love my job so much. I dreaded coming to work everyday. I was constantly in&amp;nbsp;trouble for on thing or another. I felt like&amp;nbsp;I had to walk on egg shells because I had no idea what I was going to do wrong&amp;nbsp;next. He hated me and well, I hated him. Still to this day I know he doesn't like me. Which makes sad because I look back on a lot of things now and think I shouldn't have been such a stubborn brat. Something he did had meaning, but I was too much of a booger to allow him to be right. (Yes, I am using a lot nicer words that deserved).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to put up with him for about two and half years. On the bright side, there was some light in the dark world......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are getting closer to the present! Are you excited?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-6980649123860809300?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/6980649123860809300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=6980649123860809300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6980649123860809300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6980649123860809300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/11/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-8.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 8'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-2664376039679174845</id><published>2010-10-26T22:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T22:31:57.188-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 7</title><content type='html'>I am going to off on a tangent here about Mike because he has had a major impact on my life. I truly and completely loved that man. Everything about him was perfect. He knew just what I wanted to hear, he did everything I could ever hope for. He was in fact the man of my dreams with just a couple of flaws. He smoked, which I absolutely HATED. It's nasty. And the whole being married thing. They were in fact separated and working towards a divorce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really hard to explain the true feelings I had for this man. He was my everything, everything I ever dreamed about. We would talk and talk for hours and hours about anything and everything. He was an excellent listener as well as an advice giver. He could cook like you couldn't believe. So yummy!!! He opened my eyes to some amazing music that I love so much. I still listen to everything to this day. He was a romantic, I think that was my favorite part. He took my on a scavenger hunt around the whole city. Just about everywhere we had a memorable moment together we put one of those little heart valentine's chocolate boxes. For my 21st birthday he kidnapped and drove me to Wendover. I had no idea where we were going. I am such a sucker for romance. He was so smart and funny and just plain out amazing. But, as we all know. All good things have come to an end. As time went on things were all fluffy and fun. He started acting very cold and secretive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 2007 mine and Sean's lease was up in our apartment. Mike and I talked about moving in together, but never was sure about it. So I had to move in with my brother because I couldn't find a place in time. I lived with them for 2 months. June 1, 2007 was one of the best days of my life. To start work that day was really good, customer's weren't horrific, I had gotten my annual raise at work, which was a really really good one, I was able to get off work early, and best of all is I signed a lease to my very own apartment. It was such an amazing feeling. I felt so grown up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this point Mike and I weren't doing well at all. He rarely had time to see me. If he wasn't working then he was spending time with his kids. Which is totally understandable, but It would have been&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="background-color: white;"&gt;nice &lt;/span&gt;of him to make time for me too. Call me selfish. A few weeks into June, he sends me a text on his way to work asking me to come over when he gets off, we needed to talk. "We need to talk" is never ever a good sign. So of course I was freaking out all day long. To make a long story short, he did what every married man does. He went back to his wife. Well he told me he wanted to go home, back to his kids. Which is code for, "I am dumping you for my wife." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that was the&amp;nbsp;end of that. Little while later he moved back home. We still talk once in a great while, but not often. The list of thing he taught me is a long one, but I think the biggest one is always go with your instinct. It's usually always right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-2664376039679174845?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/2664376039679174845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=2664376039679174845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/2664376039679174845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/2664376039679174845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-7.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 7'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-6516371834390834081</id><published>2010-10-26T22:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T21:25:57.111-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 6</title><content type='html'>So what happens now? Well before we get into all that, I would like everyone to know that She isn't the most horrible person that ever walked the earth. She did do a lot of great things and gave me a lot of things I normally wouldn't have had. I would like to thank her for that much. I know her intentions were there, but for whatever reason she is just mean. I don't know why, all I can do is deal with it the best I can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now this put us living with Sean, dating Thomas, and working at Marie Callendar's. Life was good. For the most part not to many complaints. I guess this would be where Mike came into play. Mike was a manager that was transferred to the West Valley Marie&amp;nbsp;Callendar's. I don't remember exactly when it was, I want to say towards the end of the summer. Well, actually the more I think about it was before I moved out that he was transferred. I honestly don't remember. But I guess it doesn't matter a whole lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike and I clicked instantly. We could talk about anything and everything and we got a long really well. We would spend hours and hours after work sitting there talking because neither of us wanted to go home.&amp;nbsp;(I was still living at my parents at the time). He was married with 2 kids. It wasn't the strongest marriage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as time when on, I realized I was miserable with Thomas. He cared more about is stupid computer games than he did about me. Mike's relationship with his wife was worse and worse. She finally kicked him out. He had no where to go, so Sean told him he could stay at our place until he found a place (which was about maybe two weeks later). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After several night of us staying up really late talking, listening to music and laughing, I realized I wasn't happy with Thomas. It was really really hard, but I had to do it. Now I don't want this to sound like Mike is the reason I broke up with Thomas. It was solely 100% because he would rather play his dumb games than spend time with me. It was really hard because I really did care about him and he took it really hard. I still feel bad to this day, but I know it was the right thing. I know we are a lot happier now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as many of you can guess, yes, Mike and I did become a couple, but it wasn't until several weeks later. We still would spend a lot of time together doing silly things and hanging out. We still worked together, but everything was always 100% professional. We never did anything remotely close to what a dating couple would do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One very boring Sunday afternoon at work, we were sitting there looking through the newspaper and chatting. We were looking through the classified trying to find new jobs. He came across one about a customer service rep for UPS. He told me I would be perfect for that job and I had to apply. Well the ad wanted me to fax a resume to them. I don't know where I would fax it. He told me he could fax it from our work's fax machine. It sounded so wrong, but I was really tired of Marie Callendar's (I was also working at Target at the time. That only lasted a few months because the wanted me to work 30+ hours on top of my 50+ hours at Marie's. Yeah I about died). So once we closed the store I ran home and grabbed my resume, brought it back and he faxed it that night. A day or two later, they emailed we info for an interview. As of September 28, 2010 I have&amp;nbsp;been working there for&amp;nbsp; 4 years. Around that same time, Mike found another job managing another restaurant also. So we both left Marie's. And a while after that is when we got together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-6516371834390834081?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/6516371834390834081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=6516371834390834081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6516371834390834081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6516371834390834081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-6.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 6'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-972696010573347859</id><published>2010-10-16T21:41:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T21:41:35.679-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Where do you go when you have no where to go? The boyfriend's house of course. Thomas was kind enough to let me stay at his house for the next 18 days until I was able to move into my apartment. I didn't speak to my dad or Her for several days. I really had no idea what was going to happen. I had no idea if I was going to get any of my personal stuff or if I would have to start over from scratch. I expected her to keep everything because that's just the type of person she is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While checking my email one day She had sent me something that was cute, so I decided to go out on a limb and tell her thanks for sending it. That is what opened the door to us speaking again. She asked if I needed anything and if I was okay. She blamed it all on my dad and my dad not wanting to talk to me and him being mad. (As you will find out along the way, everything is my dad's fault and decision.) She brought a few things I needed into my work. We didn't say much, but it seemed things were looking a little brighter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next little while we kind of mended things and when April 1st rolled around I was able to come get my things. We moved my whole room in life 4 hours with her right there "helping" also known as going through all my things to make sure I'm not taking her stuff. Later I found out that she actually took several things that were mine, but of course she would never admit that. And that was that. I was finally free of the Hell Home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side notes:&lt;br /&gt;I still owed her around $700 because she helped pay for my trip to China. I gave her $1000 check a little after we started talking again. That was an adventure. First time I ever stood up to her and let me tell you it was a rush!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also told me that I needed to pay to repair the Rodeo because it was my sister's car and I should have known I shouldn't drive it to take her to and from work because it wasn't working properly. So I got an estimate from their mechanic and gave her $2300 in cash to fix it. Needless to say to this very day it's sitting in the driveway dead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't tell me that I'm not responsible. Everyone told me that I shouldn't give her a dime, but sometimes it's easier just to pay them off so you don't have to hear them bitch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best feeling in the world was a few weeks after I moved out I came over for a visit. She started screaming and yelling about who knows what and I turned to my dad and said well, that's my cue to leave. And I walked out without saying a word to her. It was so amazing to have that freedom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-972696010573347859?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/972696010573347859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=972696010573347859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/972696010573347859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/972696010573347859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-5.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 5'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-9004848707053967731</id><published>2010-09-21T17:51:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T17:51:20.294-06:00</updated><title type='text'>When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;I have always wanted to be a teacher. I'm not entirely sure why or what I want to teach, but I still would like to do it someday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333?utm_medium=social&amp;utm_source=blogger&amp;utm_campaign=shareanswer"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-9004848707053967731?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/9004848707053967731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=9004848707053967731' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/9004848707053967731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/9004848707053967731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/09/when-you-were-kid-what-did-you-want-to.html' title='When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-5723366124514287833</id><published>2010-09-15T22:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T22:56:15.045-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 4</title><content type='html'>So, they read the note right before I was leaving for work. It was ugly and I was glad I had to go to work just then. I didn't want to come home that night. I wanted to be anywhere other than with them in that house.&amp;nbsp;But time goes on and I had to return home. When I did, it was everything I didn't want it to be. Dad didn't say a whole lot, he never does. She on the other hand really laid into me. Every night for the next week or so we were up until 3:00am or 4:00am, with her lecturing me on what a horrible, trashy, disrepectetful, ignorant, and many more person I was. She would tell me how I would&amp;nbsp;never make it on my own. I didn't know how the real world worked.&amp;nbsp;I would just sit there for hour on end allowing her to scream and yell and verbally abuse me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, March 12, 2006, my birthday, turned out to be a pretty good day... so I thought. We had dinner and cake and ice cream. Shari got me an awesome gift. It was a laundry basket full of stuff I would need for my new apartment. It was awesome! I really thought everything was going to be okay. After everyone left, I was cleaning up thinking, "Wow, this might be the first night I get a break." But, I thought too soon. It started again. Same lecturing, same insults, but this time my dad was in on it too. He called me a slut and tossed condoms in my lap. He couldn't believe I was moving in with a boy. Remind you, Sean and I had no relationship whatsoever other that friends. Like I said before, he was almost like a brother to me. But apparently they chose not believe that even though I had a boyfriend who they hated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after a few hours of the awefulness, she switched gear. She was being nice. She offered work out a budget with me so I would be finantually secure and was offering other ideas. But not a half an instant later it was right back to where we just had been. Finally, I want to say around 3:30am or so, she told me that she didn't want me in her house when she wasn't home. When she got up for work I would have to leave when she did and when she came home I was allowed back in. Now she is often full of empty threats. I assumed this was one of them and just let it go. She finally lets me go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now 7:30am or so rolls around and she yells downstairs that she is about ready to leave and I need to get me stuff together. So this wasn't an empty threat. So I get my work clothes and make up and start heading for the door. Keep in mind, I don't have a car. She stops me when I hit the door and begin lecturing me again. Then tells me that I don't have to leave, but I need to behave. (Empty threat&amp;nbsp;really is empty!) Then it switched gears to Thomas, (my boyfriend at the time, who they really hated). She was off about what a piece he was and then went into his family. She can bash me all she wants, but when you start bashing someone I care about a lot and someone you don't even know, there are problems. I screamed back and told her she had no business talking about them, she didn't even know them. But she would let up about it, so I turned and walked out the door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea where I was going, what was going to happen, all I knew what that I had to get out of there and never go back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-5723366124514287833?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/5723366124514287833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=5723366124514287833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/5723366124514287833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/5723366124514287833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-4.html' title='How I Got Where I am Today.... Part 4'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-8190291519899557941</id><published>2010-09-01T21:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T21:46:33.197-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How I got where I am today... Part 3</title><content type='html'>When Mom died, life sure took a turn for the worse. I took over the roll of the mom and did my best to take care of my dad and brother. I was 13 year old, I was in 7th grade,&amp;nbsp;I had no idea what I was doing or what was going to happen. I think I might have blocked a lot of this time out. I remember going back to school that Monday and pretending nothing happened. I didn't know how to act. I didn't tell anyone what happened. I didn't know how to bring it up. It's not like you can just say, "Hey so, my mom died. Did you study for your history test?" I did the only think I knew how to do, I acted normal. I acted like I did the week before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad pulled me out early on Monday to make arrangements for the funeral. When he was waiting for me to meet him in the office, he informed my school counselor what had happened. My counselor then told all of my teachers and then everyone started finding out. School kind of was weird for a while. Strangers would come up and tell me they were sorry for my loss and blah blah blah. I really didn't know how to react. So I was polite and thanked them. As time when on life seemed to be getting back in to a groove. I remember laughing with my friends and thinking.... Should I be laughing? I am supposed to be sad. I felt kind of guilty. But soon I realized that my mom wouldn't want me to be this way. She would want me to&amp;nbsp;make the most of my life and do everything I can to have the best life possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where life changed again.... many ups and downs, goods and bads. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Summer on 1999, happened in a blur. There is much bad that happened throughout the next 7 years that I would like to skip over it for now. I imagine I will go back to it someday, because it has&amp;nbsp;a lot to do with who I am today. Let's just say for the most part my life was hell. Now don't get me wrong, not everything was horrible. I would say a good 90% was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will give you a quick briefing of those 7 years. Neighbor lady, Cheryl (who had a daughter, Shari, that I was friends with), came down, as she puts it, check on my brother and I. She live across the street and up 2 houses.&amp;nbsp;Her and my dad started talking and became friends. Long story short, 9 months later that's January1, 2000 Dad married Cheryl. I was heartbroken. I know the only reason he did it was because he couldn't be alone. She refused to live in our house because she thought it would be weird for us to see all her stuff where my mom's stuff used to be. So we began to pack up out things and move them up the street. Her house has 3 bedrooms, she had one, Shari had one and the other was empty. There was a debate over who would get the spare bedroom and who would have&amp;nbsp;a makeshift room out of the living room. I said I should get the room because Richard was almost 18 and would be moving out soon, but they disagreed. I got the makeshift room with a Styrofoam wall and he got the bedroom. Life went from going and doing whatever we wanted to hardcore rules. Richard didn't have the easiest time with that, so shortly after we moved in, his stuff was put in garbage bags and put on the front lawn. He moved in with my Grandma Miller (Mom's mom). A normal person would have me move into the bedroom and turn the makeshift room back into a living, but not in this house. That bedroom was turned into the spare room a.k.a. Dad's room. Yup they didn't always sleep in the same room. So, those next years, I lived in a really tiny room, rarely got to talk or see my brother or my Mom's side of the family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, finally bringing me to the begining of March 2006. My friend Sean, who I worked with at Marie Callendar's, decided to find an apartment together. No, we were not a couple, we were no more than friends. We found a cozy 2 bedroom apartment we could afford and we set at date for move in. I was terrified to tell my parents. I had no idea how to it, they were scary people. So I wrote them a note. I express best with text. Well, needless to say, I was right, they didn't take it well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned! Part 4 next&lt;br /&gt;(Wonder how many parts this is gonna make. LOL!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-8190291519899557941?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/8190291519899557941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=8190291519899557941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/8190291519899557941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/8190291519899557941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-3.html' title='How I got where I am today... Part 3'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-7743860287833866050</id><published>2010-08-06T22:59:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T19:28:04.860-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How I got where I am today... Part 2 - Quick story of my mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Here is Part 2...Quick story of my mom:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGx_aLiCvcI/AAAAAAAAAC4/AIuFBCr4YJk/s1600/img016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGx_aLiCvcI/AAAAAAAAAC4/AIuFBCr4YJk/s320/img016.jpg" width="306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGx_oeoI92I/AAAAAAAAAC8/FCuQzcgMM_k/s1600/img097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="226" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGx_oeoI92I/AAAAAAAAAC8/FCuQzcgMM_k/s320/img097.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGyIOJ0O9dI/AAAAAAAAADI/iu175M_k-hU/s1600/Mom+and+me!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="226" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGyIOJ0O9dI/AAAAAAAAADI/iu175M_k-hU/s320/Mom+and+me!.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;My mom was my best friend. She was such an amazing person. She always knew the right things to say and how to make me laugh and feel better no matter the situation. She had an alcohol problem. She drank... a lot. I was still rather young and really didn't understand everything.Almost every Christmas she would drink herself sick because she couldn't handle the stress. My dad had to take to the emergency room just about every year. I don't understand it, nor do I think I ever will. Needless to say all of her drinking caught up to her. She developed a cist on her pancrese. Doctors drained it. She developed Diabetes. I was her little nurse. I was constantly taking care of her. She was my mommy and I had to help her because I needed her. About a year later the cist came back. (Now, I don't know how true this information is, but this is what I remeber what happened. Honetstly, I have no idea really. I don't have too many people willing to talk about it that really knows what happened. So here is my version.) The doctors decided to go in and remove it rather than drain it. From my understanding, the surgery went just fine, it was in recovery where it got rough. She had the surgery on Monday. While in recovery, she was having trouble breathing and they had to put her on oxygen, she developed pnenouma. Thurday night we went up there to see her. I really hat myself for this, but I spend the entire evening sitting on the empty bed in her room watching TV. I thought it was so awesome because they had cable. We left, I gave her a hug and a kiss and told her I loved her and we went home. Friday, I went to school like normal. I remember standing in line for lunch and from some reason had a random thought and asked myself, "What would life be like if Mom wasn't around?" Then I thought well that's a stupid question, why am I thinking that. So I went about my day and when I got home, I walked in the house and somethin didn't feel right. I checked the messages and there were a few from my aunt Lori and a few from my uncle Stanton asking us to call the hospital when we got home. My brother was still at school,&amp;nbsp;I got earlier on Fridays. I got a hold of my aunt, she told me she was coming to get me. She picked my up and we picked my brother up from the High School and headed to the hospital. The whole time there was something erie about everthing, but no one was really saying anything. We got into the elevator and went up, the doors opened, my dad was standing there. We started walking down the hall. My dad was telling us what had happened that day with Mom. "She was struggling to breathe, they tried to everyhing they could to help her. I told her it wasn't in her cards today to leave. But it wasn't enough. She didn't make it." I crumpled to the floor sobbing. My mommy had died on Friday, May 7, 1999 around 12:30pm. From that very moment on, my life would never ever be remotely close to the same. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGyINx7w87I/AAAAAAAAADE/wHgiPoOvKwQ/s1600/Mom's+Obt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGyINx7w87I/AAAAAAAAADE/wHgiPoOvKwQ/s320/Mom's+Obt.jpg" width="224" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Part 3 coming up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-7743860287833866050?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/7743860287833866050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=7743860287833866050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/7743860287833866050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/7743860287833866050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/08/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-2-quick.html' title='How I got where I am today... Part 2 - Quick story of my mom'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/TGx_aLiCvcI/AAAAAAAAAC4/AIuFBCr4YJk/s72-c/img016.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1437557682017277855</id><published>2010-08-06T22:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T22:47:30.551-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How I got where I am today... Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;For those of you that may or may not know me too well, I figure I would briefly tell you how I have seen my life thus far. Be warned, it will be very long. Some area will be detailed more than other, but I will do my best. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;I was born on Wednesday, March 12, 1986 in the Sweet Water County Hospital in Rock Springs Wyoming. My parents are&amp;nbsp;Keith and Selena&amp;nbsp;and my brother is Richard.&amp;nbsp;As one can assume I don't remember anything about this time, but from what I can see from pictures, I was a pretty happy and awesome baby. When I was around 2 or so we moved from Wyoming to California. I don't remember exactly where, but it was cozy. I remember have all kinds of trees and eating fresh avocado. About a year later we moved to Utah. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;What I remember about&amp;nbsp;moving is my aunt Claudine and Grandma Miller coming to pick up my brother and I and take us back to Utah while my parents packed up and moved. I remember my parents sending us a letter and picture while they were moving. I also remember sitting my grandparent's living room with the whole family (aunts, uncles, grandparents, and minus&amp;nbsp; my parents), and everyone was upset. My uncle Stanton kept yelling, "That's not fair!" To this day I have no idea what exactly&amp;nbsp;everyone was upset about. Later in my life I found out the reason my brother and I went to stay with my grandparent was because my mom was checked into a rehab center for her alcohol abuse. Still haven't been able to find out the real story or all the details. I hope I am able to someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;So once my parents got everything packed up, they joined us in Utah. We lived at my grandparent's house for a few months. We then moved to a place called Wendell Circle. I have no idea what city it's in, I only remember that. I remember my brother and I shared a room and it was a tiny house. My brother got hit in the face with an aluminum baseball at there. I remember my mom freaking out and driving around trying to decide if we should go to the doctors or not. I don't remember if we ever did. He's totally fine now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;After the circle, we moved into a duplex in Midvale on Ivy Drive. This place was all around bad. Good memories were made, but a lot of bad things happened here. (I could go into a lot and I mean A LOT of detail here, but I might save that for another day.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;At this point I am around 7 years old I believe. My dad starts to build us a house in West Valley City. He literally built the majority of that house. I don't remember how long it took, but the family helped the best we could. I painted the kitchen walls! I remeber it was finshed around Christmas time. My dad put a small Christmas Tree on the swap cooler box and the house was our Christmas present. (I am pretty sure we got other thing too.) We moved into the house in January of 1994. I started 2nd grade at Hillside Elementary just after Winter break ended. Life in this house wasn't divine. We have issues, we had trials, we had struggles, but one thing there was a TON of was Love. We were a very close family. We had dinner together every night, we talked about each other's days, we worked on homework. It was everything I had ever hoped it would be.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;, Courier, monospace;"&gt;Stay tuned for Part 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1437557682017277855?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1437557682017277855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1437557682017277855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1437557682017277855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1437557682017277855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/08/how-i-got-where-i-am-today-part-1.html' title='How I got where I am today... Part 1'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3666415109376415611</id><published>2010-07-18T21:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T21:34:53.965-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you rather be really hot or really cold?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;I totally vote for cold. You can always put more on, but you can only take so much off.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333?utm_medium=social&amp;utm_source=blogger&amp;utm_campaign=shareanswer"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3666415109376415611?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3666415109376415611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3666415109376415611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3666415109376415611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3666415109376415611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/07/would-you-rather-be-really-hot-or.html' title='Would you rather be really hot or really cold?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-90724403666170171</id><published>2010-07-13T23:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T23:24:16.714-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This Is Where I Belong</title><content type='html'>At this very moment in time I am feeling really lost. I don't know who I am suppose to be, what I am suppose to be doing and  I sure as hell don't know what tomorrow will bring. I do know that for the most part I am happy. I am grateful to have a roof over my head, food to eat, a job, clothes on my back and all the other things we all take for grante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I suppose to where I am right now? Yes. Fate, destiny or whatever you call it has brought me here and will continue me on my journey. I was told yesterday that I was the best thing that could have happened to Travis and Valory. And that I can't go anywhere. That was the more rewarding statement I have ever heard. That's all I have ever wanted to do with my life is to make a difference in someone else's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a "Step-Mom" certainly isn't the easyest job in the world. But in my heart I know I am doing what I should. There are so many days that I would love to just run away and tell Travis to figure it out himself, but I know in my heart I can't. That little girl needs me and in a way I need her. She entered my life for a reason, just like everyone does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-90724403666170171?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/90724403666170171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=90724403666170171' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/90724403666170171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/90724403666170171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/07/this-is-where-i-belong.html' title='This Is Where I Belong'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-4136932176066693481</id><published>2010-07-12T22:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T22:59:31.024-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you believe there's intelligent life on other planets?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;I believe there has to other life out there. There is no telling how far space goes. There is no reason there isn'. So yes I do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333?utm_medium=social&amp;utm_source=blogger&amp;utm_campaign=shareanswer"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-4136932176066693481?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/4136932176066693481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=4136932176066693481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/4136932176066693481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/4136932176066693481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/07/do-you-believe-there-intelligent-life.html' title='Do you believe there&amp;#39;s intelligent life on other planets?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3336301855137939364</id><published>2010-07-12T22:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T22:57:39.783-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you want or hope for most this coming month?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;In the month of July...... I would like to spend some real quality time with my honey. I would like to devote some time to the following, blogging, working out, cleaning more, and budgeting better.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333?utm_medium=social&amp;utm_source=blogger&amp;utm_campaign=shareanswer"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3336301855137939364?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3336301855137939364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3336301855137939364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3336301855137939364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3336301855137939364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-do-you-want-or-hope-for-most-this.html' title='What do you want or hope for most this coming month?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-279809900446968485</id><published>2010-06-07T17:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T17:09:58.832-06:00</updated><title type='text'>If you could go back to any moment in your personal history and change something where, when and why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;The first thing that came to mind it the last time I saw my mom alive, May 6, 1999. We were at the hospital visiting her and I was so excited that they had cable. So the entire evening I sat in the empty bed in her room watching tv. I should have been talking to her, spending time with her, cuddling her, and tell her how much I love her, but I didn't. I watched stupid cable.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333?utm_medium=social&amp;utm_source=blogger&amp;utm_campaign=shareanswer"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-279809900446968485?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/279809900446968485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=279809900446968485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/279809900446968485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/279809900446968485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/06/if-you-could-go-back-to-any-moment-in.html' title='If you could go back to any moment in your personal history and change something where, when and why?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1083653268143230726</id><published>2010-05-09T13:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T13:39:21.647-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who I should be with....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Life is ceratinly an adventure. There are so many ups and downs, so many challenges, rewards, and just straight up garbage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I don't know where I stand today, nor do I know where I will stand tomorrow. What I do know is that I am going to make the most of what I have and continue to strive for more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;My dad and I got into a horrible fight a few weeks ago. It started with what a peice of crap Travis was for me and how he can't believe I am wasting my time. Later I found out that really what he wants is someone that can take care of me. Someone that will give me the best in everything. He doesn't know if Travis is that person, but he wants me to think before rushing into anything. I know Travis won't be someone that will be rich and be able to take care of me and I will never have to work again. I don't want that person. Yes I would like to finiancially stable and not have to stress how this bill or that bill will get paid. I don't think it should be his job to do that. I think we should be able to do it together. Work as a team. I thought that's what relationships and marriages were all about it working as a team? I know in the long run my dad just wants me to be happy, I am his baby and he wants to make sure I have the very best of everything. I appreciate him worry about me. But he does need to allow me to live my life the way I want to live it. I know in the long run he will, but he wanted me to know he thoughts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/S-cPQLAe3BI/AAAAAAAAABM/M4OEc9a6_JU/s1600/DSC03126.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469357042971892754" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/S-cPQLAe3BI/AAAAAAAAABM/M4OEc9a6_JU/s320/DSC03126.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Back to Travis...... I have no idea where this is going. Is that a bad thing? I mean I am extreemly happy. Yes, there are thing that I would like to see changed, but overall I am very happy. I am not 100% sure if he is the one that I am supposed to be with or the one I am suppose to marry. I have no idea. I have no idea whether I am the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with either. I do know what we only want to do this once and if that means waiting years and years to make sure that we are meant to be, then I will wait. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be sure. Whatever happens, happens for a reason.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1083653268143230726?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1083653268143230726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1083653268143230726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1083653268143230726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1083653268143230726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/05/who-i-should-be-with.html' title='Who I should be with....'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r6Ch97VvUN4/S-cPQLAe3BI/AAAAAAAAABM/M4OEc9a6_JU/s72-c/DSC03126.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1985271619356994205</id><published>2010-03-29T17:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T17:48:04.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's your favorite city?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;In Utah, I think my favorite city has been Murray/Midvale area.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1985271619356994205?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1985271619356994205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1985271619356994205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1985271619356994205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1985271619356994205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-your-favorite-city.html' title='What&amp;#39;s your favorite city?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1856867122138749705</id><published>2010-03-29T17:47:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T17:47:25.257-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's your favorite drink?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="formspringmeAnswer"&gt;It's hard to choose just one. I really enjoy water, Dr. Pepper, or Pepsi would be my top three.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="formspringmeFooter"&gt;    &lt;a href="http://formspring.me/katlong333"&gt;Ask me anything&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1856867122138749705?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1856867122138749705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1856867122138749705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1856867122138749705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1856867122138749705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/03/what-your-favorite-drink.html' title='What&amp;#39;s your favorite drink?'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-6617388838343471957</id><published>2010-02-21T11:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T11:53:52.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45274214@N06/4158577383/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2477/4158577383_c0ddc1afae_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45274214@N06/4158577383/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/45274214@N06/"&gt;katlong333&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-6617388838343471957?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/6617388838343471957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=6617388838343471957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6617388838343471957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/6617388838343471957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/02/originally-uploaded-by-katlong333.html' title=''/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2477/4158577383_c0ddc1afae_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-3655723786016429067</id><published>2010-01-05T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T10:51:39.854-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Resolutions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Goals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Years'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Help'/><title type='text'>What is Gonna Happen in the New Year - 2010</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I know I am a little on the late side of the whole New Year’s thing, but better late than never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year Everyone!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I would like to share with all of you what I would like to work on this year. I don’t want to call it my New Year’s Resolutions because we all know how those turn out. And I am not going to call them goals because those turn out the same way. I am terrible I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to begin with, I would like to really try harder to blog more. I really enjoy this type of thing. It is an excellent way to express things, say what’s on your mind to no one in particular, and to let people know what is going on in my world. I will do my best to post something more than once every million years. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I am going to work on drinking more water. I do not drink nearly enough water a person should. It’s not even that I substitute with soda or something else, I just don’t drink it. I will do better! Also, I am going to try and eat out less. I need to plan better and not take the easy and convenient way out. Not only will this save me money, but it will also be healthier. Which leads into my next item, just like everyone else in the world, I would like to get into shape. Yes, round is a shape, but I’m a little too round for my comfort. We all know this isn’t going to happen, but I will in fact give it a try. At the very least I would like to be more active. Anyone willing to motivate and accompany on this journey would be greatly appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last, but certainly not least, I need to budget money better. I was on the right track for a while, then we moved and one problem after another got me upside down again. I am going to get my poop in a group for good! I have a plan and a system that will work, I know it will. I just need time and to actually stick to it no matter what. I really believe I can do. If nothing else happens this year other than this one I will be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with all that being said, if anyone has any ideas on how to help me achieve these ideas, please feel free to share. I would greatly appreciate more than you will ever know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now. You will be hearing from me soon, I promise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katrina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-3655723786016429067?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/3655723786016429067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=3655723786016429067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3655723786016429067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/3655723786016429067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-is-gonna-happen-in-new-year-2010.html' title='What is Gonna Happen in the New Year - 2010'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1604809347626612181</id><published>2009-08-02T19:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T14:57:30.913-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Katrina's Thoughts on Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Love........the word is so strong. How does one know what it means? I have found that he is all I think about. Does that mean I am really in loved or am I just settling for what I think is all I can get. Where do you find the line? How do you really know what is what? Do you follow what you heart says or what your mind says? There are so many answers needed, but where do the answers come from? I love him, I have to love him....why else would I be where I am and doing what I do. Why does love have to be so complicated? Why does he love me? Does he really love me? He would have to because I am here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Small bits of doubt and the ones that eat away at what could be a wonderful and amazing relationship. But, no matter how hard you try you can't keep those thoughts from running through your mind. I have been here before, I have had these feelings before. One time the thoughts became a reality. He didn't want me. He jumped into it and then got scared, opened his eyes and looked for fun other places. The next time, it was pity I think. He was a good guy. I was blind and thought this has to be as good as I can get, but I was miserable. He didn't make me happy. Then the last one.....wow he was something. He did everything right. He was everything I had ever wanted. He had to the ONE, my dream guy. There were a few flaws, but we would get through them. He was married, my defence he was separated long before we got involved. In the beginning I told myself how stupid I was for getting involved. I knew he would break my heart and rip me apart. But I didn't listen. I convinced myself it would end different. He loved me! He had to love me or why else would he go through all he did just to be with me? Well, that answer I don't have, but what I do know is I was right from the beginning. The time we share was beyond amazing. But soon enough it ended. He said, "I want to go home." And that was that. I was shattered and humiliated. I felt so stupid for not listening to what I had been telling myself all along. I like to justify it as he taught me how a man should treat a woman. He showed me happiness and love. I showed him whatever he needed to see that he should go home, be with his kids and make his family work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So here I am today. What I am doing? I was watching a movie and heard a quote, "Don't listen to how your heart feels, listen to what it's saying." So, that leaves me with is my heart telling me that I am happy and this is where I should be? Or is it feeling twitterpaited? I go through these struggles constantly. How do I know what is really what? How does anyone know? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I love him. I know I do. I know he loves to me. I can feel it. I feel it when he looks at me, when he tells me how beautiful I am when I just rolled out of bed after a long night, when he thanks me for doing the laundry or making him dinner. When I look into his eyes I can see into his mind, heart, and soul, they tell me I love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What happens from here? Well, I have no idea. Right now I am happy and will continue to be happy. I am a strong woman that can overcome any obstacle. But I am only human and can only take it one at a time. One day at a time. Whatever happens will happen whether I let it or not. I will just have to cross that bridge when I get to it. Life happens with or without you. It's your choice what you do with it and what you take of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Someday everything will all make sense. So for now, laugh at the confusion, smile through the tears, and remind yourself that everything happens for a reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1604809347626612181?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1604809347626612181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1604809347626612181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1604809347626612181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1604809347626612181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2009/08/katrinas-thoughts-on-love.html' title='Katrina&apos;s Thoughts on Love'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5074183112003466440.post-1235096201986649960</id><published>2009-07-28T21:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T21:41:11.411-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Katrina'/><title type='text'>The Begining</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Well, I am new to all this blogging, but it's the newest rage, so I thought I would check it out. If anyone has and suggestions please feel free to help me out. Again, I am new at all of this. =-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, shall we start with a little background on me. I am 23 years old, my birthday is March 12th. I live in South Salt Lake City, Utah with my boyfriend, Travis, and our two dogs, Buddy and Rascal. We just moved here about a month and a half ago. This is the first time either of us live with our significant other. Everyone asks me how it's going and honestly, I couldn't be happier. Travis is an amazing guy who loves me. As for our dogs, Buddy is a 5 year old pitbull terrier. He is the biggeest sissy you will ever meet. He loves to cuddle and destroy his toys. Rascal is a 5 year old toy poodle. He loves to bark at Buddy and attempt to play with him. He is deffinately MY dog. Travis tells me he is a totally different dog when I am not around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently working at the UPS CSC (Customer Service Center aka Phone Center) in West Valley. I am a Site Quality Admin. My job consists of running quality reports, assisting the supervisors with reviewing errors with their agents in a timely manner, and creating and posting communications on out interal website. I absolutely LOVE my job. I love doing what I do. I have learned so much about computers, software, and webpages that I never knew before. Everyday I learn something new. I used to hate going to work because of my supervisor. We had a difficult time seeing eye to eye and things, but I just found out that he is going on special assignment and I no longer have to deal with him. Talk about a sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm.....what else about me......I like to read, watch movies, watch tv. I don't know I am pretty boring. Feel free to ask anything about me, I am pretty much an open book. =-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that is all for now. Expect to hear from me soon!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5074183112003466440-1235096201986649960?l=katlong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/feeds/1235096201986649960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5074183112003466440&amp;postID=1235096201986649960' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1235096201986649960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5074183112003466440/posts/default/1235096201986649960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://katlong.blogspot.com/2009/07/begining.html' title='The Begining'/><author><name>Katrina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13681461575368586794</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUTircMXg1k/TxOj8ZIO44I/AAAAAAAAAH0/dsoWBwnUOIQ/s220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
