<?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-2829769859099862871</id><updated>2011-06-16T13:49:07.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rantings from the Lunatic Fringe</title><subtitle type='html'>A diary</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-8266124265683226568</id><published>2009-03-21T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T11:20:00.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missed Opportunities</title><content type='html'>First, it must be understood that after living at Hume for as long as I have (28 years), I avoid making close friendships, because this is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;transient&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;community&lt;/span&gt;. People leave and it hurts. Friendships are difficult, too much work and pain. There are few people here that I really love, so when I heard Eugenie and Jeff were leaving, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;grieved&lt;/span&gt;. I don't grieve for them. As Griff aptly put it, Jeff has more talent in his little finger than most people have in their whole bodies. No, selfishly I grieve for my own losses and for Hume. For the opportunities I have missed because I'm afraid of just dropping in on people (I wouldn't want to disturb them and why would they want to see me). Eugenie would be a wonderful back door friend. These are friends you should feel comfortable visiting any time. Why have I chosen not to have any, not to take the risk of being hurt because back door friends leave. I have missed out on so much fun and laughter (and healing tears). One thing I have learned this week, it's time to come out of my shell. It's time to engage again. I'm just sorry there had to be such a loss to understand this. I pray our families will always remain friends. That they realize how much we love them though we don't always know how to show it. To Eugenie and Jeff, I lift my glass to the future, to hope, and to friendship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-8266124265683226568?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/8266124265683226568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=8266124265683226568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/8266124265683226568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/8266124265683226568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2009/03/missed-opportunities.html' title='Missed Opportunities'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-3041541548204929479</id><published>2009-02-23T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T09:46:22.148-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Griff's Hats</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why it has taken him so long to tell us, only he knows, but this past Christmas Griff asked for ugly hats. Apparently, his father collected ugly hats and wore them on weekends and holidays to annoy Griff's mother. If he had told us sooner, he would have quite a collection by now. As it is, he only has one, which many have seen him wearing recently, as seen in the following picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgHOejehI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uiy8qsSF9yo/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+169.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306049725745822226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgHOejehI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uiy8qsSF9yo/s320/Christmas+2008+169.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLdPNz4tjI/AAAAAAAAAD0/PKvZBeEmZOA/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+166.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgHOejehI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uiy8qsSF9yo/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+169.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgHOejehI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uiy8qsSF9yo/s1600-h/Christmas+2008+169.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgmxY5oHI/AAAAAAAAAEU/1qwAipUMSrg/s1600-h/wool-lined-derby-belfry-tammany-hitb_green%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306050267693293682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgmxY5oHI/AAAAAAAAAEU/1qwAipUMSrg/s320/wool-lined-derby-belfry-tammany-hitb_green%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Be watching for his next ugly hat, which is a bowler like Cornelius Fudge in the Harry Potter books. But don't spoil the surprise.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-3041541548204929479?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/3041541548204929479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=3041541548204929479' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/3041541548204929479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/3041541548204929479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2009/02/griffs-hats.html' title='Griff&apos;s Hats'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaLgHOejehI/AAAAAAAAAEM/uiy8qsSF9yo/s72-c/Christmas+2008+169.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-8801951649807786110</id><published>2009-02-22T14:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T15:22:41.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5 Favoite Celebrities</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Tiffany has been pestering me about blogging, and has told me to post my five favorite celebrities. She did not specify that they had to be living. First, it must be understood, when I was in Jr. High and High School, while my friends were obsessing over Donny Osmond or David &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cassidy&lt;/span&gt;, etc., I was reading all about the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ensuing&lt;/span&gt; men. My brother said I had a father fixation. I say I just had much better taste than my friends and could recognize real talent. So here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPQUe9qlI/AAAAAAAAADE/SXwJC7ieX9Q/s1600-h/Cary+Grant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305749715302591058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPQUe9qlI/AAAAAAAAADE/SXwJC7ieX9Q/s320/Cary+Grant.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Cary Grant (or Archibald Leach). Suave, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sophisticated&lt;/span&gt;, gentlemanly, he made acting look easy. Maybe that's why he was under rated as an actor. Comedies such as "Holiday" or dramas such as "None but the Lonely Heart," his depth and style could not be overstated. He never really understood his appeal. He once stated, "Everyone wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPXsU78WI/AAAAAAAAADM/spKGESoqUlI/s1600-h/Fred+Astaire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305749841962070370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 293px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPXsU78WI/AAAAAAAAADM/spKGESoqUlI/s320/Fred+Astaire.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Fred Astaire. Charming, witty, and what a dancer. He was a class act on and off the screen. People loved him because he was genuine, and his love of dancing showed through his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;performances&lt;/span&gt;. Whether acting in light musical comedies with Ginger Rogers or Rita &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Hayworth&lt;/span&gt;, or later in dramas (think Ghost Story) he gave the aura of a man who knew this was what he really enjoyed. Also, he would forgo the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Hollywood&lt;/span&gt; glitz to stay home with his family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPd1EFlNI/AAAAAAAAADU/cocxxWNXY28/s1600-h/Michael+Crawford.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPd1EFlNI/AAAAAAAAADU/cocxxWNXY28/s1600-h/Michael+Crawford.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPd1EFlNI/AAAAAAAAADU/cocxxWNXY28/s1600-h/Michael+Crawford.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPd1EFlNI/AAAAAAAAADU/cocxxWNXY28/s1600-h/Michael+Crawford.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPd1EFlNI/AAAAAAAAADU/cocxxWNXY28/s1600-h/Michael+Crawford.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHdxNa-NXI/AAAAAAAAADs/96xnALyqcAE/s1600-h/Michael+Crawford.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305765673505273202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHdxNa-NXI/AAAAAAAAADs/96xnALyqcAE/s320/Michael+Crawford.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Michael Crawford. If you have seen the movie Wall-E, you've seen Michael Crawford (on Wall-E's VCR). I first saw Hello Dolly when I was 8, and have been in love with &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Michael ever since. How could you not love a guy that could play Frank Spencer in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Britcom&lt;/span&gt; "Some Mothers Do 'ave 'em" and then play the original phantom in "Phantom of the Opera," or PT Barnum in the play "Barnum." What a talent. I am fortunate to have an autographed picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPkCCPs3I/AAAAAAAAADc/3wIaRRcyEfE/s1600-h/Kirk+Douglas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305750053947683698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPkCCPs3I/AAAAAAAAADc/3wIaRRcyEfE/s320/Kirk+Douglas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPkCCPs3I/AAAAAAAAADc/3wIaRRcyEfE/s1600-h/Kirk+Douglas.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Kirk Douglas. Ruggedly handsome, and Spartacus to boot. I first saw him in "Young Man With a Horn" when it was playing on a late night movie and thought him believable, intense and gorgeous. Then, I saw him in Spartacus and my feelings were confirmed. Playing Vincent Van &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Gogh&lt;/span&gt; in "Lust for Life, or Paris Pittman in "There was a Cooked Man," the variety of his parts and depth he gave each character makes him compelling on the screen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPt_-A8lI/AAAAAAAAADk/K---zWvn4zs/s1600-h/David+Niven.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305750225191760466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPt_-A8lI/AAAAAAAAADk/K---zWvn4zs/s320/David+Niven.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPt_-A8lI/AAAAAAAAADk/K---zWvn4zs/s1600-h/David+Niven.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPt_-A8lI/AAAAAAAAADk/K---zWvn4zs/s1600-h/David+Niven.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPt_-A8lI/AAAAAAAAADk/K---zWvn4zs/s1600-h/David+Niven.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. David Niven. As Edgar in "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Wuthering&lt;/span&gt; Heights," he was the best part of the movie. He played drama as well as comedy. "Bachelor Mother" with Ginger Rogers was charming and funny. He did Disney and made it fun for adults as well as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;children&lt;/span&gt; ("No &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Deposit&lt;/span&gt;/No Return", or Priory in "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Candleshoe"&lt;/span&gt;). My favorite part of his was as Sir Charles Litton in the Pink Panther movies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, here they are. Tiffany, I hope you enjoy them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-8801951649807786110?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/8801951649807786110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=8801951649807786110' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/8801951649807786110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/8801951649807786110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2009/02/5-favoite-celebrities.html' title='5 Favoite Celebrities'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SaHPQUe9qlI/AAAAAAAAADE/SXwJC7ieX9Q/s72-c/Cary+Grant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-8784733525264141097</id><published>2008-11-05T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T13:54:26.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bohemian Rhapsody</title><content type='html'>&lt;object id="JibJabPlayer" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=" height="370" width="440" align="middle" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"&gt;&lt;param name="_cx" value="11642"&gt;&lt;param name="_cy" value="9790"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="Movie" value="http://www.jibjab.com/v/76203"&gt;&lt;param name="Src" value="http://www.jibjab.com/v/76203"&gt;&lt;param name="WMode" value="Transparent"&gt;&lt;param name="Play" value="-1"&gt;&lt;param name="Loop" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="Quality" value="High"&gt;&lt;param name="SAlign" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="Menu" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="Base" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="AllowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="Scale" value="ShowAll"&gt;&lt;param name="DeviceFont" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="EmbedMovie" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="BGColor" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="SWRemote" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="MovieData" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="SeamlessTabbing" value="1"&gt;&lt;param name="Profile" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="ProfileAddress" value=""&gt;&lt;param name="ProfilePort" value="0"&gt;&lt;param name="AllowNetworking" value="all"&gt;&lt;param name="AllowFullScreen" value="false"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.jibjab.com/v/76203" loop="false" menu="false" quality="high" bgcolor="#C4C2AA" width="440" height="370" swliveconnect="true" id="JibJabPlayer" name="JibJabPlayer" align="middle" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jibjab.com/view/76203" target="_blank"&gt;Hilarious Bohemian-Rhapsody&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.jibjab.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Funny Jokes at JibJab&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-8784733525264141097?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/8784733525264141097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=8784733525264141097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/8784733525264141097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/8784733525264141097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2008/11/bohemian-rhapsody.html' title='Bohemian Rhapsody'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-2650217646332881664</id><published>2008-10-19T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T14:17:17.872-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation to PA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt0OMzUw8I/AAAAAAAAABw/Yym_Zzpobkc/s1600-h/DSCN0109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258924777188672450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt0OMzUw8I/AAAAAAAAABw/Yym_Zzpobkc/s320/DSCN0109.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We just took Griff's dream vacation to Cook's Forest in Pennsylvania. This is the area his family used to camp for a month every summer when he was a kid. We were lucky enough to be able to stay with my sister and brother-in-law at the cabin they've been renting every autumn for many moons.  Here they are with their daughter, Sierra. She was fun to spend time with, and I was so wishing we lived closer so we could spend more time together, but they refuse to move to California. Never say die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPtzcC0scxI/AAAAAAAAABo/zElNLU-Fex0/s1600-h/DSCN0037.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258923915516605202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPtzcC0scxI/AAAAAAAAABo/zElNLU-Fex0/s320/DSCN0037.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We hiked all around Griff's old stomping grounds, and went searching for elk. We stopped at all the elk viewing areas to no avail, but once we went off the beaten path, there were elk everywhere. It was nice to be with someone who knew the area, but I think he was trying to kill me with all the hiking. This elk was only about 10 feet from me. Notice the kid's head in front of me. I figured if the elk attacked, the kid would be the first to go and I would have time to run away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt1IPsG57I/AAAAAAAAAB4/jdjdpKXI_rI/s1600-h/DSCN0081.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258925774396123058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt1IPsG57I/AAAAAAAAAB4/jdjdpKXI_rI/s320/DSCN0081.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Since we were so close (17 miles), we had to stop in Punxsutawney. This is Punxsutawney Phil. He's a smart rodent and can predict the weather. He had a friend in the cage with him. I presume it was Mrs. Phil, hoping to make little Phils who can carry on the tradition. Hope they're as smart as old Phil here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt4Wk5KB2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/MLVJtfVaGAw/s1600-h/DSCN0085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258929319141050210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt4Wk5KB2I/AAAAAAAAACQ/MLVJtfVaGAw/s320/DSCN0085.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is Fireman Phil. He has nothing on &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friend Floyd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt3cJVLqGI/AAAAAAAAACI/xBXOZ0c3ALU/s1600-h/DSCN0027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258928315309992034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt3cJVLqGI/AAAAAAAAACI/xBXOZ0c3ALU/s320/DSCN0027.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Margaret. She wasn't on vacation with us, but her picture was in the group, so I thought I would add it to irritate her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoyed this glimpse at the vacation Griff has waited 25 years to take. I liked it anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-2650217646332881664?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/2650217646332881664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=2650217646332881664' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/2650217646332881664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/2650217646332881664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2008/10/vacation-to-pa.html' title='Vacation to PA'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SPt0OMzUw8I/AAAAAAAAABw/Yym_Zzpobkc/s72-c/DSCN0109.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-1891748783196165708</id><published>2008-10-15T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T10:34:19.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Atheism and Family</title><content type='html'>Noni (my grandfather) was a devout atheist. I only met the man once and was not overly fond of him. It had nothing to do with the atheism as my father was agnostic and my mother was an "Easter Catholic." What struck me most about him (I was 11 at the time), was his bitterness and apparent contempt for my parents and their children. We were only half Italian and therefore not worthy of his love or respect.&lt;br /&gt;About 10 years after our one meeting, I attended his funeral. My father and uncle attended out of duty and four of his 13 grandchildren attend to support my father. That was the list of mourners. Near the end of the&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;debacle&lt;/span&gt;, I began crying, not because I loved or would miss my grandfather - I hardly knew him, but for what he missed in life. I realized this man truly lived a life of "quiet desperation." He lived with my uncle who abused him, and that was the whole of his existence for many years. He could have had the love of my father and his 13 children who desperately wanted to love him, but he chose to live with bitterness and resentment. A sad, lonely end is what it brought him and an eternity in torment.&lt;br /&gt;The point of this diatribe is this, I'm reading Francis Chan's book "Crazy Love" and he's talking about people who's lives made a difference. How do I live that kind of life? How can I make a difference? Twenty-five years after his death, I still grieve for what my grandfather missed in life, and now in death, and pray I can learn a lesson from it. I want to let my God use me as only he can, be open to whatever He has. Actually, this is taking a risk, because it could be anything, but I know I don't want to end regretting that I lived a life of quiet desperation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-1891748783196165708?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/1891748783196165708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=1891748783196165708' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/1891748783196165708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/1891748783196165708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2008/10/atheism-and-family.html' title='Atheism and Family'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-6640263092157624789</id><published>2008-10-01T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T11:18:52.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jonah</title><content type='html'>Have you ever considered the humor in the bible.  Preachers don't seem to talk about this, while much of it is serious - fire and brimstone kind of stuff, some of it illicits considerable amusement.  Consider the story of Jonah.  God talks to him, he doesn't like the job so he runs away.  How exactly do you run away from a voice?  Did God use just a voice.  I must admit, it reminds me of the movie "Stranger Than Fiction."  Did he really think he could run away from God?  Did he really think?  So he's on this boat sleeping as a storm is raging.  Even the sailors are scared, so it's got to be pretty bad.  I love that they realize it's someones fault that there's this bad storm.  That wouldn't be my first instinct.  Jonah admits, "Oh yeah, it's my fault.  I'm running away from God."  That had to sound pretty stupid.  My favorite part is the big fish.  For the three days he was in this fish what did he do?  Where did he sit?  What did he eat - other big fish prey?  Did he start a campfire for light?  How did he avoid this fish's digestive tract?  He had no cards to play solitaire, no tv, no books to occupy his time.  Did he walk around?  I must say, if my meal was walking around in my stomach I would vomit it up too.&lt;br /&gt;Once his mission was finally completed very successfully, he was angry about it.  I've never know anyone angry about their successes.  He was so angry he felt it necessary to complain to God, "Hey God, why the heck did you save these people anyway.  They're creepy and evil."  Now, did Jonah really have room to talk about creepy?  God rebukes him saying that there are all these people in the city, so why shouldn't he save them, but also finds it necessary to mention that there are many cattle, as thought that's really what Jonah will appreciate.  Then the story just ends.  It feels a bit unfinished to me.  I understand the lessons inherent in the story, but I really love the story itself.  It's really a pretty funny story when you think about it (or maybe I'm over analizing). . .anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-6640263092157624789?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/6640263092157624789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=6640263092157624789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/6640263092157624789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/6640263092157624789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2008/10/jonah.html' title='Jonah'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-2184159785850193021</id><published>2008-09-30T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T23:32:57.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>Griff and I are getting ready to take a vacation to Pennsylvania for our 25th anniversary.  He offered me several options for a vacation spot, and I chose Cook's Forest mostly because I was sure that's where he wanted to go.  We'll be staying in a cabin with my sister and brother-in-law.  I'm looking forward to seeing them, but in 25 years, Griff has probably spent no more than 10 minutes with either of them.  This particular sister raised me when my mom checked out of life (she's 15 years older) so it will almost be like meeting the parents for Griff.  Was this a wise decision?  They're not christians and have very different views than we do (no one in my family has views even remotely similar to ours).  Was this a wise decision?  Well, I'm going to enjoy my time, do some hiking with Griff, campfires, more hiking and feeding the fish at Kinzua Dam.  I've never seen Griff so excited about a vacation, so I'm pretty sure I made the right choice.  I just pray he enjoys his time with "the in-laws."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-2184159785850193021?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/2184159785850193021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=2184159785850193021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/2184159785850193021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/2184159785850193021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2008/09/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2829769859099862871.post-7723406383726887883</id><published>2008-09-28T21:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T21:37:12.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Autumn</title><content type='html'>I have always been amazed at the beauty of the oncoming death of the year that is Autumn.  This has always been my favorite time of the year, the crispness of the air the smell of the dirt and moisture which holds the slightest hint of rain.  What is it about death that makes us appreciate life so much more?  School starts - I hated that as a kid.  Evan died - one of the worst times in my life.  Maybe it's the hope of a new beginning.  Each school year was a new adventure, and Evan's death certainly started my life on a new course.  My mother died in Autumn.  Her death confirmed my belief in the faithfullness of God.  To see a parent who had always mocked my beliefs finally come to Christ on her death bed is an experience not to be missed.  Most of my best (and worst) experiences have happened in the Autumn.  Death does bring new life, but maybe it's best not to dwell on the death aspect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2829769859099862871-7723406383726887883?l=mamataranta.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/feeds/7723406383726887883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2829769859099862871&amp;postID=7723406383726887883' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/7723406383726887883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2829769859099862871/posts/default/7723406383726887883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mamataranta.blogspot.com/2008/09/autumn.html' title='Autumn'/><author><name>mamataranta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08085347991280546241</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sImq_qMAdVM/SOBcmrd-_DI/AAAAAAAAAAM/AMJdusSyh0g/S220/Mickey+1.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
