<?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-8926047546395051967</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:26:03.865-08:00</updated><category term='weather'/><category term='california'/><category term='violin'/><category term='disney land'/><category term='God'/><title type='text'>Sit Down... Let's Chat.</title><subtitle type='html'>ramblings, dreams, and burdens.... welcome.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6184054799438354324</id><published>2010-08-03T03:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T03:50:19.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm a sucker for personality tests. I don't know why.... maybe I just like learning about myself. Anyway, here are my results. I thought this was interesting. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Bailey is an optimistic individual.  She  is the type of person who loves exploring new places or things and a  wide variety of experiences.  She tends to display a natural charisma  that draws others to her charm.  Bailey is a very encouraging person;  others are drawn to her because they find her inspirational.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A  loyal friend, Bailey is patient and caring when attending to the needs  of others.  She is usually an even-paced individual who thrives in a  peaceful, harmonious environment.  She tends to be quite predictable,  sticking with proven, reliable methods of dealing with situations rather  than taking chances with a new, unproven approach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bailey will  usually test ideas against proven standards in an effort to be  inventive; and can be very creative as she identifies new solutions to  problems.  She is an original and creative thinker, but acts in a  rational way to make sure desired results are achieved in an orderly  manner; although she is not afraid to "break the mold" if that appears  to be the key to a solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bailey prefers to work through  problems by analyzing things that worked in the past.  She is willing to  follow another person's lead if they display adequate ability and if  Bailey has confidence in their ability.  She is someone who is able to  lead, if necessary; but usually prefers to wait and see if another  person volunteers first.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6184054799438354324?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6184054799438354324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6184054799438354324' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6184054799438354324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6184054799438354324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-sucker-for-personality-tests.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6308692055433299648</id><published>2010-07-27T02:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T02:52:34.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok... So I Lied...</title><content type='html'>I said I would be updating this much more often, but as you can see its been 2 and 1/2 months with no update. So what has been going on these past 2 and 1/2 months? Well, I've been wedding planning like crazy. The pool table in our great room has slowly evolved into the "wedding table". It is currently covered with all things wedding including invitations, candles, lanterns, candy table jars, random decor.... its slightly chaotic. Also, I've learned that wedding planning is easy as pie when its someone else's wedding you're planning. But when its your own?? Everything has to be perfect. I've learned I'm incredibly indecisive when it comes to planning our wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking summer classes full-time. Its been going pretty good actually. But I'm not going to lie, I'm looking forward for August 6th to roll around so I can be finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael is officially volunteering at United Blood Services as a donor recruiter and speaker. From his car accident(when he was 14) he received over 150 units of blood. That's enough blood for about 12 average adults. Therefor, he has quite the story that hopefully encourages others to donate blood. Anyway, hopefully his volunteerism will lead to a full-time job with the company. He's been speaking for the since he was 15 so hopefully he's built a good reputation with them and they'd like to hire him on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm missing Oklahoma. But I will be there soon enough. I've got two wedding showers there in September and one here in Phoenix the week before. I'm excited. For the showers and to see Oklahoma. Hey who knows, maybe one day we'll move back. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're definitely working toward that goal. People have always said this and I use to think it was silly, but Oklahoma really is a great place to raise a family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its bedtime for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6308692055433299648?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6308692055433299648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6308692055433299648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6308692055433299648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6308692055433299648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2010/07/ok-so-i-lied.html' title='Ok... So I Lied...'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-3829386223283134078</id><published>2010-05-06T01:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T01:29:03.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"In a nutshell"---- who came up with that anyway?</title><content type='html'>This  has been a  semi-rough week. I started working. Michael started vocational rehab. By the time we both get home, we're exhausted(I realize that this is what normal adults do daily... but I'm new to "real" adult living).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm tired of smiling at people. And I hate doing laundry after hanging up clothes that people have thrown on the floor all day. And Michael's brain hurts from taking difficult tests all day. so we sit on the couch and watch 9 by design. Or basketball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then God gently reminds me that I am incredibly blessed. He has provided me a job that I don't have to bring home with me with decent pay. And my husband is blessed with an opportunity to go to a place that works on his strengths and weaknesses and will eventually place him in a job that will allow him to succeed and provide for our family. And he feels so empowered. I love hearing his stories about his day when he comes home and how well he's done all day. For so long he's always heard, "you're extremely intellegent, Michael, buuut those with brain injuries blah blah blah." It's so good for him to hear, "you're amazing at 'this'. and 'this' is where you will succeed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a mad case of baby fever. It needs to go away quickly. and return in about a year or so. enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've allowed myself 1 home renovation project per month. It gets a little pricey and time consuming when you try to do it all at once. And it's better for me to get something accomplished before I move on to the next big thing. So this month I'm refinishing our coffee table and two end tables. The were previously spray painted black, but I'm making them white with an antique finish.&lt;br /&gt;..................................&lt;br /&gt;.........................&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;......&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea how difficult this would be. I've had to strip them down. sand. strip some more. sand some more. paint. then antique. It doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but man... there's so much detail to these tables and I have to get in all those nooks and crannies.... eek. But I know I will be sooo proud of them when I'm finished. I will post a before and after for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired. Tomorrow is my day off so I will be spending it cleaning. The furniture guys are coming in the morning to repair a tear in our couch so off to bed I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be updating this much more often.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-3829386223283134078?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/3829386223283134078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=3829386223283134078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3829386223283134078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3829386223283134078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2010/05/in-nutshell-who-came-up-with-that.html' title='&quot;In a nutshell&quot;---- who came up with that anyway?'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-49097280198029481</id><published>2010-04-26T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T00:35:49.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fresh and Warm</title><content type='html'>This has been the best Spring ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gardening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464344654220126130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S9VAgv0YZ7I/AAAAAAAAAIo/a1iPyrEqA8w/s320/flower+garden.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 219px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464344791857531970" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S9VAowjsjEI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ZPTDHDpOHQE/s320/icetea.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464345430804483186" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S9VBN80hTHI/AAAAAAAAAI4/bpQuNCLJEdY/s320/marraige.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pure bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-49097280198029481?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/49097280198029481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=49097280198029481' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/49097280198029481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/49097280198029481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2010/04/fresh-and-warm.html' title='Fresh and Warm'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S9VAgv0YZ7I/AAAAAAAAAIo/a1iPyrEqA8w/s72-c/flower+garden.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-3654398030721890939</id><published>2010-01-13T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T14:58:43.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This has been the best month of my life. I feel like Will Ferrell in Elf when he screams, "I'M IN LOVE AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!!" So, meet Michael.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S05NQDoueZI/AAAAAAAAAIY/8YEr6Fzyv10/s1600-h/sillymichael.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S05NQDoueZI/AAAAAAAAAIY/8YEr6Fzyv10/s320/sillymichael.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426359539277396370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's everything I need and want. Silly, gentle, patient, kind, weird, hilarious, lovable. He loves the Lord. He makes me laugh harder than any person ever has. He affirms me. I'm completely myself around him-- and he still loves me! He sacrifices. He's humble. He hates to see people hurting. He's passionate. And I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are moving quickly and I love it. This is all new to me. I trust him. And I trust the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S05PIRuSXvI/AAAAAAAAAIg/NzpICoby0xQ/s1600-h/us.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S05PIRuSXvI/AAAAAAAAAIg/NzpICoby0xQ/s320/us.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426361604643118834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm bringing him home next week to meet the family. I've never been so excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-3654398030721890939?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/3654398030721890939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=3654398030721890939' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3654398030721890939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3654398030721890939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2010/01/this-has-been-best-month-of-my-life.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/S05NQDoueZI/AAAAAAAAAIY/8YEr6Fzyv10/s72-c/sillymichael.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-7041763025338088334</id><published>2009-12-14T14:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T17:14:44.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Check List= Completely Nonentertaining Post.</title><content type='html'>So I've got a cold. yuck. it's not the best timing seeing how I will be driving home super early Wednesday morning. Which means I will be home sometime in the middle of the night. My mom thinks I won't be home till Friday at some point... so I'll be quite the Christmas surprise! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This cold has thrown me off. I couldn't fall asleep last night so finally at 6 AM I took some benadryl and was obviously delirious from not sleeping because in my right mind I know that's a bad choice. So I slept until away most of the day. And apparently, now I'm blogging away the rest of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I don't know why I'm on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;clean room.&lt;br /&gt;clean bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;do laundry.&lt;br /&gt;pack.&lt;br /&gt;get Huck roadtrip ready.&lt;br /&gt;make roadtrip CDs.&lt;br /&gt;make christmas presents.&lt;br /&gt;drop clothes off at the donation center.&lt;br /&gt;oh and plan a wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited to see my little nieces and nephews. I need a nap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-7041763025338088334?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/7041763025338088334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=7041763025338088334' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7041763025338088334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7041763025338088334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/12/check-list-completely-nonentertaining.html' title='Check List= Completely Nonentertaining Post.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6750997325573294305</id><published>2009-12-07T14:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T21:31:17.629-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The weather is incredible. Straight up Portland weather today. Why don't I live there? One day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Drummer Boy is my least favorite Christmas song. Hands down. And then Feliz Navidad. And Feliz Navidad sung by Celine Dion? Hello. She's Canadian. It makes my ears bleed. But for some reason I still sing along... and then the lady sitting across the couch from me at a coffee shop looks at me like I'm crazy. Now it's Jingle Bells. But sung by dogs. Like they're barking Jingle Bells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get me out of here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_________________________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm finally home. drinking wine, baking cookies, watching Grey's Anatomy and looking up really awesome houses on Craigslist. Houses where? Tulsa. It's official. I'm moving back to Tulsa sometime around May. Maybe sooner. But definitely not later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing- I want to be a cool Aunt. Not the Aunt that comes home for the Holidays. And not the Aunt who sends you birthday money in a card. I want to be there-- for all things, good and bad. At least for a little bit. So, Homeward bound!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sx3kBLBcpMI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/cUzwqM8t21Q/s1600-h/greysieface.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sx3kBLBcpMI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/cUzwqM8t21Q/s320/greysieface.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412733035959067842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How could you not be around to see this messy brownie face? See what I mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of homeward bound, I'll be home for Christmas by next Friday. Until then I've got finals, wedding planning, Christmas present making, and lots of haircuts to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yippee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6750997325573294305?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6750997325573294305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6750997325573294305' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6750997325573294305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6750997325573294305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/12/weather-is-incredible.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sx3kBLBcpMI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/cUzwqM8t21Q/s72-c/greysieface.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-435551026361553161</id><published>2009-12-01T01:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T02:29:45.035-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;My dog likes to sit as close as he possibly can to me and lay his head on my computer as I type. Cute, but invasive and somewhat handicapping.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SxTi5zgtXRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/NWrBltkBLQw/s1600/huckleberry.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SxTi5zgtXRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/NWrBltkBLQw/s320/huckleberry.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410198535086628114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;See what I mean? Cute. Invasive. Handicapping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've realized I'm a selfish friend. I don't like to share my friends with other people. This is obviously wrong. God is showing me some dark parts of my heart. I asked Him to so I'm glad He's following through. It's all a part of the refining process, I guess. Speaking of refining, I read through old blog posts from 3-4 years ago... man, oh man. It's crazy how much one changes over such a short time. But I'm so glad I did. so glad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I seemed so optimistic then. I feel much more realistic now. And sometimes reality is optimistic. Just not always. This probably isn't making sense to you and that's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. I'm still processing all of this.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's crazy how one can be a product of another person. I guess that's what rabbis did/do. I just need to do a better job at choosing a rabbi. That sounds harsh and ungrateful. and I'm not. at all. again, still processing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love the weather right now. The high is in the upper 60s all week. Winter has hit. SELAH.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SxTvhjlMRZI/AAAAAAAAAII/YYEFColh0Wg/s1600/ladies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SxTvhjlMRZI/AAAAAAAAAII/YYEFColh0Wg/s320/ladies.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410212412144764306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I miss sitting at the table with these faces.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-435551026361553161?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/435551026361553161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=435551026361553161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/435551026361553161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/435551026361553161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-dog-likes-to-sit-as-close-as-he.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SxTi5zgtXRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/NWrBltkBLQw/s72-c/huckleberry.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6628743161693545964</id><published>2009-11-24T15:28:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T23:30:22.449-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Really Can't Stay, Baby It's Cold Outside!</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting in my creative writing class and I'm suppose to be doing research, but since I've already done it I'm blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm excited about Thanksgiving. Since I've lived in Tucson I've never been excited about this holiday. The first year was hard because it was my first Holiday away from my family. And my family actually loves each other so I like spending time with them. And the second year was my first holiday since my dad had died and that was, of course, hard. But this year I feel like I've settled down in Tucson and it finally feels like home. And although holidays will probably always be hard without my Dad here with me, I've come to terms with the fact that he isn't here anymore. So all that to say, I'm excited about Thanksgiving. I love cooking yummy food while listening to Christmas music and getting together with wonderful friends and drinking wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm trying to think of creative, unorthodox thanksgiving recipes... so if you have any, share the wealth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;alright, class is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm watching Elf. This is probably my all-time favorite Christmas movie now. Probably. I'm not good at picking favorites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My small group is having thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night and for some reason I got assigned stuffing. Anyone can make stuffing. Oh well. I'm actually kinda relieved. Nikki told me this recipe that has sage flavored sausage mixed with celery, onion and then the Stove Top stuffing. I don't know what it will taste like, but she says its pretty great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;today was my friend Steve's birthday and we threw a surprise party for him. I was the one who had to pretend we were doing something else and show up with him. He was so surprised. I don't think I've ever had a successful surprise party for anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really love my church.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6628743161693545964?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6628743161693545964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6628743161693545964' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6628743161693545964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6628743161693545964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanksgiving.html' title='I Really Can&apos;t Stay, Baby It&apos;s Cold Outside!'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-8861781217878215654</id><published>2009-11-12T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T15:07:24.559-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Made it Through the Wilderness</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that the area behind my headboard and underneath my bed caught on fire. I put it out but not quiet in time. My walls got all black, my new bedding(which, sadly, only exists in my dreams...) was ruined and my dog burned his face. It was sad. And my dog talked to me(in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt;) in this dream. So weird. I'm pretty sure the fact that I've left my curling iron on for the past two day has caused the dream. Two nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night and my room reeked like burning plastic. I checked my curling iron and found a plastic bag melted all over it. sigh... I need to be more responsible or I'm going to burn my house down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403349223663636354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SvyNfaHaj4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/H15Uf06Px_g/s320/bestfriends.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelsi is getting married in like 7 weeks. It's crunch time. The majority of my free time is consumed with this wedding. Which I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; with... it's just feeling a little insane. I love it though... it's been fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think winter is finally going to hit here in Tucson. Last week-- highs in the mid 90s. This week-- low 70s. Heck ya!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;God is teaching me a lot right now. I feel like I'm eating my words from about 6 months ago. That's good though. I want to be progressing and changing. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I miss photography. And I want to learn to make pottery. I've always said this... but I want to really do it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I learned tons of self-defense moves last night. A friend of mine is a sheriff.... he's super intense and way cool. He's from Oklahoma(ya don't say) and we were instant buddies. He wants to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;taze&lt;/span&gt; me just so I know what it feels like. I think he's insane if he thinks I'll ever let him do that. Kelsi wants to. She's also an idiot. Between him and my friend who's a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;black belt&lt;/span&gt;, I'm going to acquire quite the skills. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-8861781217878215654?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/8861781217878215654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=8861781217878215654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8861781217878215654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8861781217878215654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-made-it-through-wilderness.html' title='I Made it Through the Wilderness'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SvyNfaHaj4I/AAAAAAAAAHY/H15Uf06Px_g/s72-c/bestfriends.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-8537827609492003316</id><published>2009-10-22T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T17:14:07.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Was I Thinking?</title><content type='html'>I'm taking 2 and 1/2 online classes. My sociology class is half in class, half online. Hence the 1/2.&lt;br /&gt;I think these online classes are going to be the death of me. But that's ok. I can do it.... right? Some psychology class I'm taking literally might kill me. I'm going to have to be so disciplined for that one. But I can do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK. That was my rant. I'm finished.&lt;br /&gt;Cookies are done. People are finished.&lt;br /&gt;That's what my English-teaching mother told me growing up. So now I say it to myself every time I have to choose between finished or done.&lt;br /&gt;I also sing that Gwen Stefani song every time I spell bananas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream about my best friend Kelsi, who is getting married in January. I'm her maid of honor. I dreamed that I couldn't find the right shoes to match my dress. All I needed was black, peep toe, kitten-heals. And I couldn't fit my horse feet into any of them. So Grandma gave me shoes to wear(here we go). They were bright purple with sequins and yellow knitted flowers on them. Grandma loved them(of course she did). And I didn't tell Kelsi about them and just hoped she didn't notice as I walked down the aisle. But she did. And she never spoke to me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had a dream Shannon(who's one year anniversary is the same date as my friend, kelsi's wedding) was redoing her ceremony on her anniversary. Which means I had two weddings simultaneously. But shannon wanted me to take the photos for her wedding. Which would never happen in real life because her brother is a phenomenal photographer. But, nevertheless, she did. She game me this camera and yelled at me and told me I "HAD TO TAKE ALL PICTURES WITH THIS CAMERA!" so, I was super nervous. Well, come to find out, the camera Shannon gave me had no film in it. So, none of her pictures showed up. Obviously. And then she never talked to me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have two brides that I love dearly who had their ceremonies on the same day who never want to talk to me again. It's a horrible feeling to wake up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what all that means? Maybe I just feel like there's a lot of pressure(self-inflicted) to make Kelsi's wedding perfect. And maybe, just maybe, I feel like I might let her down. Even though I know I wouldn't... I would just be letting myself down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all so silly.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have to go sit in algebra for 4 hours. I'm less than thrilled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-8537827609492003316?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/8537827609492003316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=8537827609492003316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8537827609492003316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8537827609492003316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-was-i-thinking.html' title='What Was I Thinking?'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-7641598734120566481</id><published>2009-10-11T22:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T01:11:08.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Killer Monkies, Carl Marx and Disease Infested Birds</title><content type='html'>I had a super crazy dream yesterday. My roommate, Julia, got eaten by wild monkeys. It was so graphic. I don't think I've ever had a scary dream that graphic before. I want to stop thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is crazy. This is my final week for some of my classes and then I have a few new ones starting up the following week. I have a massive paper due in soc over Marxism. Extremely interesting... yet complicated. Marx is easier to understand when you've had a couple glasses of wine, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I start my classes this week to become a long term volunteer at Crisis Pregnancy Center. I get to sit and talk with women who are debating whether to keep their child or not. And women who recently had miscarriages. I'm really pumped about this. I do wish the classes would start the following week with finals and such this week... but it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. I'll manage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to the ostrich farm this week with my new friend, Krystal. She's from Louisiana. Her southern personality is refreshing. The ostrich farm is the best $5 ever spent. Those things are vicious... yet extremely entertaining. At the farm, there's this bird room(I hate birds) where you go in there with a little container of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nectar&lt;/span&gt; and you just hold it and all these birds swarm to you. It's disgusting. I always take people there when they come to visit me. Last time Taylor and Kacy were here I took them and they loved it. Taylor kinda freaked in the bird room, rightfully so, but Kacy loved it. But she's a huge animal person. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ick&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The man that owns the ostrich farm is this huge redneck and he's from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Oklahoma&lt;/span&gt;(shocker) and he went in the bird room with me. When I walked in there, I was immediately covered in birds so, by instinct, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;buried&lt;/span&gt; my head in my chest. He starts pulling on my chin trying to pull my head up but I won't budge. So he yells at me, "Girl! what are ya &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;gunna&lt;/span&gt; do when you got a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;reeeaaall&lt;/span&gt; problem?!" And I said, "This is a real problem!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello. Covered in birds= problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it goes without saying: the ostrich farm produces fantastic entertainment 100% of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need sleep. Good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-7641598734120566481?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/7641598734120566481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=7641598734120566481' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7641598734120566481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7641598734120566481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/10/killer-monkies-carl-marx-and-disease.html' title='Killer Monkies, Carl Marx and Disease Infested Birds'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-5575591973923067528</id><published>2009-10-05T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T14:23:50.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rip My Heart Out Why Don't You</title><content type='html'>My mind won't focus on school today. Which sucks because it really needs to. I have to write a paper on why I chose the life I have. And why I changed my major from Digital Media Productions(aka photography) to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pre&lt;/span&gt;-m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;edicine&lt;/span&gt;. Thank you Veterans Administration. I have a bad attitude about this paper. I want to say, "I want to be a doctor because I saw the horrible &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;health care&lt;/span&gt; you provided for my father and I don't think any person deserves to be treated like that." But that would be ugly. And I know me being a doctor isn't going to change that. And I won't be able to save everyone. There are going to be people I can't provide health care for because of all different reasons. So, realizing all of this, I will write a paper on all the other reasons why I want to be a doctor. I usually don't like telling people I'm studying &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;med because I have a long ways to go before I'm finished and I know that I'm not always the best at finishing things. But I can't focus on my negative qualities. That won't get me anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is currently tearing up my soul while simultaneously rebuilding it. He's showing me my wickedness. But I realize I can't stay there long because if I do, I'm not living out the gospel. Because the gospel tells me He is made strong in my weakness. And the gospel tells me I am to live righteously for his pleasure not for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;satisfaction&lt;/span&gt; of those around me or even to bring self-gratification. I really want to be more authentic. But I want my authentic self to be lovely. But to become lovelier I need to be more honest with myself about the dark parts of my soul. And I guess it's just difficult to do that at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like the past few years I've spent focusing on community and loving people and loving God. Which are all beautiful things. But I've forgotten about discipleship and growing in knowledge and understanding of the Word. I'm very thirsty for that right now. And so is our church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also want to stop talking about the things that break my heart and start serving those people. So, I've signed up to volunteer at the children's hospital to sit and play with sick children. There are other things I'm going to do because Jesus tells me to serve the least of these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-5575591973923067528?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/5575591973923067528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=5575591973923067528' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/5575591973923067528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/5575591973923067528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/10/rip-my-heart-out-why-dont-you.html' title='Rip My Heart Out Why Don&apos;t You'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-1535344608943531783</id><published>2009-09-19T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T16:20:33.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmm Girl. You Shock Me Like an Electric Eel.</title><content type='html'>I really like the coffee shop atmosphere. I love doing my homework here. I'm at Coffee Xchange, which is the worst local place in town. You're probably wondering why I come here. Well it's definitely not for the coffee. I get an Arnold Palmer(half black tea, half lemonade) every time because their coffee is absolutely terrible. And, honestly, the atmosphere isn't exceptionally great either. And they play horrible music. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;... Why do I come here??? I guess it's because it's always packed with tons of college students. And this is the first time in my life where I actually enjoy being a college student. Not to mention they're open 24/7 which works great for me.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am really excited about the future. Like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really. &lt;/span&gt;If I wasn't concerned with random people reading this blog, I would tell you guys all about it. It's really hard for me to keep secrets. The people closest to me know this. If you tell me something random about yourself I will probably tell others because I think it's so incredible. Like I know this girl who doesn't have a belly button and for some reason I feel like everyone should know that about her. Thankfully she doesn't care if I tell. And my best friend. She likes to wear body glitter when she is feeling down and out. It helps her feel better about herself. I love that. Every bit of it. Sorry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;BFFAEAE&lt;/span&gt;. ;-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, I have a story. The other night my car broke down. I actually just ran out of gas when I was sitting in a parking lot with my car running. I was listening to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;LoveLine&lt;/span&gt;(that detail doesn't matter, I'm just trying to give you a visual). Anyway, I was parked with my car running and it all of a sudden just started shaking violently so, of course, I just shut it off really quick. I didn't know what was wrong. I tried to restart it like 6 or 7 times and it didn't start so I called my roommate to come get me. She laughs at me but of course she comes. We just live like 3 minutes down the street from where I was stranded so I think, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hmm&lt;/span&gt;.. it's a nice night out. I'll get out of my car and wait for her." So I swing open the door and BY THE GRACE OF GOD I look at the ground before I swing my feet out and there is a 2 ft long baby rattlesnake! I kid you not! And he was so ready to eat me. He had his head raised. I about flipped. I slammed my door shut and watched it out my window. I was completely freaked. And I hear you have to watch out for those baby snakes because they have more venom. sigh... I could have died.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So when Julia got there I had to climb out the passenger side because I was so freaked out. He sat there for a good 5 minutes(The entire time I was wondering what was taking her so long)just staring up at me hanging out of my window.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So since then I have been so paranoid with walking around outside. Since I've lived here I've only seen like 4 snakes... maybe... sigh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. I should go. This thing is getting long, I have a feeling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-1535344608943531783?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/1535344608943531783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=1535344608943531783' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1535344608943531783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1535344608943531783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/09/mmm-girl-you-shock-me-like-electric-eel.html' title='Mmm Girl. You Shock Me Like an Electric Eel.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-1202566126510367026</id><published>2009-09-10T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T19:50:21.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why does it need to be 50 degrees inside?</title><content type='html'>Oh blogger... how I've missed you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has been interesting lately. I've started school again. I love it. I think I've finally come to the age where I like school. It took me a while(and sometimes I hate that) but I'm glad it finally came.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also on this journey of being healthy. It's difficult because you don't realize all the unhealthy patterns you've created in your life. (You being me in this situation). You don't realize you crave sweets until you take them away. You don't realize how often you eat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fast food&lt;/span&gt; until you've decided not to eat it anymore. Shannon, I need some recommended reading on the vegetarian lifestyle. Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going through a transitional time in my life right now. Transitioning the way I think and feel about some certain things. Transitioning relationships I have. Transitioning me literally. Usually transitions are difficult for me, but I'm having a hard time with some of these. Especially the relationships. I've been internalizing a lot lately. Being objective is sometimes hard for me. Sorry-- I know none of this is making sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams are becoming more intense and I'm starting to wish they didn't take place anymore. I use to not feel that way. After my dad first passed away I liked the dreams because they were typically just past memories replaying as I slept. And, even though they were painful, I wanted to hold onto that piece of him. Now, the dreams have evolved into painful encounters where I'm screaming at him and/or him telling me to let him go. Stop trying to take care of him. I don't like. I wake up crying a lot. Is this normal? I think so. Until I talk to my mom about it and she buys me books on grieving and wants me to go to counseling. I'm all about counseling, I think every human should go to counseling.... but seriously? I don't know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go. It's freezing in this library and I can't stand it anymore. I think I'm going to go home and make soup. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mmm&lt;/span&gt;....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-1202566126510367026?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/1202566126510367026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=1202566126510367026' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1202566126510367026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1202566126510367026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-does-it-need-to-be-50-degrees.html' title='Why does it need to be 50 degrees inside?'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-9102762971417867615</id><published>2009-08-13T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T00:46:14.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Different Folks. Different Strokes.</title><content type='html'>I'm dog sitting again. different people. different dogs.&lt;br /&gt;I should make a business card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lot up in the air right now... so I'm not for sure what to write about because a lot could change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched Stranger Than Fiction tonight. I liked it a lot. Even though I didn't hear half of the movie because I was sitting next to two lovebirds who whispered sweet nothings to one another the entire time. mmm.. loooove it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've been sneezing non-stop for about 4 days. I keeping thinking this is going to end. I'm now thinking it will... just not anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams have been super weird and vivid lately. I love it. Most of the time they're just very entertaining. Sometimes sad, but usually entertaining. Even the sad ones I like. Like the ones about my dad. I wake up very sad. But it's crazy how precise they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm now watching the Devil Wears Prada. All I can think of is the Office episode wear Michael watches this movie and then he yells "STEAK!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired. I have a very busy day tomorrow that consists of meetings and interviews. sigh... A little nervous, but everything should turn out great. Should.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-9102762971417867615?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/9102762971417867615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=9102762971417867615' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/9102762971417867615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/9102762971417867615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/08/different-folks-different-strokes.html' title='Different Folks. Different Strokes.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-7005100432027157999</id><published>2009-07-31T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T23:43:06.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams, Hair, and Rommates</title><content type='html'>I'm watching Chelsea Lately-- I love that show. I use to hate it, but when you watch it with Kelsi it is super funny. Maybe she has corrupted me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having really vivid dreams about my dad lately. When he first passed away I had them all the time. But I haven't had any in a while... But it's been super weird. Two nights ago I dreamed that my dad and brother went camping and my brother let my dad wonder off and do his own thing and then no one could find him. We searched all through the woods to find him but never did. We came across his backpack and found all of his things, but no sign of my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last night I dreamed that it was a year later and we still hadn't found my dad. We had a memorial service for him and everything because we just assumed he was attacked by a bear. But I was upstairs in my room and I heard my dad talking to my mom in the other room and it was weird because it really was his voice. And I ran to the other room and swung open the door and saw him standing there with a camo jacket on and I ran up to him and jumped on him and just hugged him yelling "why did you leave me?? why did you leave me??" and he said that he had to but he couldn't tell me why. and then I woke up. And it felt sooo real. But, of course, it wasn't. And I just starting sobbing. It was horrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shannon-- since you often have bizzarre dreams, you should analyze it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm growing out my hair and it's getting pretty long... well, for me. it's a little past my collarbones. Hopefully I can grow it 6 more inches by Kelsi's wedding in January. We'll see. I'm not normally this patient when it comes to growing out my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate gets back tomorrow night. It will be good to see her. Huck will be excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok I'm done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-7005100432027157999?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/7005100432027157999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=7005100432027157999' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7005100432027157999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7005100432027157999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/07/dreams-hair-and-rommates.html' title='Dreams, Hair, and Rommates'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-8061647095342499927</id><published>2009-07-24T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T03:42:30.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogs, Movies and Mothers</title><content type='html'>I'm house/dog sitting again this weekend. It is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dogfest&lt;/span&gt; 3000 at this house. Usually when I dog sit these dogs I'm able to leave Huck at home with Julia, but since she's currently on vacation, I've got all 3. It's pretty insane. And for some reason it's only really bad when it's time for me to sleep. I haven't slept much at all in the last few nights... but sleep seems to be optional in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As inconvenient the whole dog thing is, I actually like staying at this house. My friends that live here are pretty big "movie people". They own many of my favorites. I watched Mona Lisa Smile tonight. I've never seen it before. I LOVED it. Kim knew I would. Oh and Kim, I looked for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Notting&lt;/span&gt; Hill.... no luck. Shrug. Anyway, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MLS&lt;/span&gt; is fantastic. I love the reminder that we were all created for greatness. And how all of humanity is connected in that way. There's more thoughts in my head, but I will leave it at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to thirst for more of Jesus and less of me. I want to be above reproach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I also watched PS. I love you(Ive seen it once before... when it first came out last summer). crap. that movie. I bawled throughout the entire thing... entire thing. My head hurts now. Movies like that make me not want to fall in love because I'm scared of losing him. But what is that saying? It's better to have loved and to have lost, then to never have loved at all.....? is that right? sounds right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my mom. I talked to her on the phone forever tonight. She loves me. And she loves to know that I'm taken care of. No matter how old your kids are, I don't think you ever grow out of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend from childhood had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;miscarriage&lt;/span&gt; two nights ago. She was pretty much told her chances of getting pregnant on her own are slim to none. Her and her husband have been trying for three years. She found out 7 weeks ago that she was pregnant. She had only been pregnant for a week when she found out. She just knew. This girl was made to be a mother. I called her when I found out from Taylor and I lost it on the phone. She was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;consoling&lt;/span&gt; me. So motherly. God has a plan for her. I know it. She will have a baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-8061647095342499927?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/8061647095342499927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=8061647095342499927' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8061647095342499927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8061647095342499927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/07/dogs-movies-and-mothers.html' title='Dogs, Movies and Mothers'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-2203253133123106863</id><published>2009-07-13T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T15:38:03.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby fever, marraige, and Uganda.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; grumpy today. and very impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a meeting right now. I absolutely love the people I work with. They make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bad mood is actually gone now. We have a funny team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm enrolling for classes today. I'm super excited. more than I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, I have baby fever like crazy. I am surrounded by adorable children. And I want kids. But the thought of having them right now(even if I were married and all that stuff) is so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;overwhelming&lt;/span&gt;. I wonder if I'll better be ready. Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother got married. Their pictures are cute. Their wedding was private and on some bridge somewhere. I tried to post a photo, but I'm super dumb with computers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to find a job... but aren't we all. I just got offered a job at chic-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;fil&lt;/span&gt;-a. the manager just came up to me and asked where I worked... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;... is that weird?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm going to Uganda next summer. I'm super excited. I will be working with a medical team. I'll fill you in more when I have more details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go. Julia is waiting on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-2203253133123106863?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/2203253133123106863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=2203253133123106863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2203253133123106863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2203253133123106863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/07/baby-fever-marraige-and-uganda.html' title='Baby fever, marraige, and Uganda.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-4024545736723831582</id><published>2009-07-05T08:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T08:51:56.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Throw up, Home, and Magnified Pores.</title><content type='html'>So I'm sick. It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt; morning and I've been throwing up for a few hours. I'm really bummed. This is the first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt; I've been in town and missed church. I feel bad for the band... they have to reorganize everything this morning now. boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of July party last night. It was basically just the staff and a few others from Epic. It was super fun. We played catch phrase and played girls against boys, which I usually hate doing because... it never fails... I'm always paired up with some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ditsy&lt;/span&gt; girl who, when it's her turn, is always like, "ha! I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;umm&lt;/span&gt;... uh... I don't know... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;...." and it drives me crazy because I'm incredibly competitive. I wish I wasn't so competitive. Anyway, we played girls verses boys and the girls totally dominated. ha... the guys were very much bothered by this... but it was a super fun time. I love my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone that has lived here in Tucson as long as me made a comment the other day. it was something like, "ugh Tucson... I can't wait to get out of this hell hole." and I just shrugged. Which made him curious and led to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt; about our lives here and I just said that Tucson may not, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;geographically&lt;/span&gt;, be my favorite place to live, but I like my life here. It's home to me now. It took a while, but it's home. I don't think I will be here for more than 5 years from now, but who knows. I do know that it will be sad when I leave. And has always bothered me that this friend of mine has never made Tucson home... especially since he supposedly moved here to love on this city and teach Tucson about Jesus... but I don't know. I think since the day he's been here he has always looked for the back door. shrug. I guess I would be miserable too if I felt like I was stuck in a place I hated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent over an hour last night looking at my pores in one of those magnified mirrors like Grandma and my Mom had growing up. that is so addicting. I got this underground zit on my cheek, which is a weird place for me to get a zit, and I got that sucker out. oh man, it hurt so bad. And then I rubbed rubbing alcohol all over my face. I'm sure that's not good for my skin. But with that stupid mirror I just was totally grossed out by all the crap in my skin. I should get a facial. wait.... no I shouldn't. I did that once and that was the biggest mistake I've ever made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry... that was a gross tangent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to get back in bed. I feel bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-4024545736723831582?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/4024545736723831582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=4024545736723831582' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4024545736723831582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4024545736723831582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/07/throw-up-home-and-magnified-pores.html' title='Throw up, Home, and Magnified Pores.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-2686431684800520181</id><published>2009-07-03T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T00:13:18.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight, Centerpieces, and third wheels.</title><content type='html'>oh how you've been missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was fun. I went with Julia and Cale on their date(I'm pretty sure... even though they said it wasn't) to Olive Garden and to see UP. I've seen it before. It's a cute movie. It makes me cry. ugh... speaking of movies that make me cry..... My Sister's Keeper??? If you haven't seen it, you should. That movie will rip your heart out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm house sitting for some friends for the weekend. They have two dogs so I thought it would be a good idea to bring Huck(my dog) over to play. Ya well, that was a hooooorrible idea. He never calms down. He just wrestles with them the entire time. And then they get annoyed with him a bark/bite him and then he wines. So I put him in a crate and his scratches at it and cries. With that said, I didn't fall asleep till 7:30 AM this morning. I could have killed him. Julia told me I woke her up at one point. She heard me yell, "I'm going to kill you!" to Huck. She laughed and then fell back asleep. Must be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night I put together a mock centerpiece for Kelsi's wedding. It turned out great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354497266568150178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sk7-5QSYPKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/k-cSSLEzpzg/s320/centerpiece.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love them. I'm going to make a couple changes, but that's it for the most part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been listening to the twilight soundtrack like crazy. It's my guilty pleasure. Even if you don't like the books/movie, you should listen to the soundtrack becuase it's super good. I love Iron and Wine. They're my current "falling asleep" music. Accept for last night... I turned on classical piano music really loud to drown out my whining dog. ugh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-2686431684800520181?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/2686431684800520181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=2686431684800520181' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2686431684800520181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2686431684800520181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/07/twilight-centerpieces-and-third-wheels.html' title='Twilight, Centerpieces, and third wheels.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sk7-5QSYPKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/k-cSSLEzpzg/s72-c/centerpiece.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-2997656422362629133</id><published>2009-06-04T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T13:41:12.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;for the first time ever I created a blog and didn't post it. huh... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;today hasn't quite turned out like I planned... which is fine I guess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kim is coming over. We need to cheer each other up. Here goes nothing! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dad died a year ago today. That's been hard. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My old roommate and great friend, Jaime is coming down from Kansas City to hang out with me tomorrow and saturday. I am more than thrilled. She is so awesome. She's one of those people you want to be like. haha... it's been, I think, 2 years since I've seen her. this is going to be great.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to go to the Oprah show. Actually, I'd rather go to the Ellen show. My best friend, Kelsi, has been to the Ellen show and she danced with her. sigh... I have such cool friends with cool stories. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to Greysen's and Landon's baseball games tonight. I'm so excited. theyre so freaking cute. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emma makes me laugh so hard. Check out this picture. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343574949448969234" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SigxGuSU7BI/AAAAAAAAAGY/9bp6nTzpU5I/s320/emma.jpg" /&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 class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-2997656422362629133?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/2997656422362629133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=2997656422362629133' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2997656422362629133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2997656422362629133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/06/for-first-time-ever-i-created-blog-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SigxGuSU7BI/AAAAAAAAAGY/9bp6nTzpU5I/s72-c/emma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6525630265327157077</id><published>2009-06-02T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T15:31:04.883-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Nails and New Moon</title><content type='html'>I stayed up late last night reading New Moon-- the second book of the Twilight saga. I never thought the books would be this good. I really like it. I'm learning to not rag on something until you look closer into it. I'm currently eating my words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the casino last night with my mom and I didn't win anything. In fact, I lost $17. My mom's $17. I refuse to waste my money there. I never win. But I had a good time with my mom. She lost $20 so I don't feel as bad. We just made fun of ourselves the whole time. It was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took Emma to get a manicure and pedicure today for her first time. It was super fun. She wasn't for sure what to expect, but she handled herself well and had a great time. Then we turned on the music really loud in the car and danced to Black Eye Peas' Boom Boom Pow. And then Em and I realized we like pretty much all of the same music. She is so cool. Either that I'm not. For self-esteem reasons I'm going to say she's just really cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I built mud pies with Payton when I got home. Mud pies are always fun. Hey Shannon, I remember making mud pies with you and the twins when we were really young and you guys lived in your old white house. and then we would play in your huge closet. ha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm staying in tonight to finish New Moon. I'm really excited. I'm such a nerd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Payton is playing a game on my phone and just turned to me and said, "look how good my score was!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good job Paytie! That's awesome!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her score was -240. She's awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6525630265327157077?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6525630265327157077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6525630265327157077' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6525630265327157077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6525630265327157077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-nails-and-new-moon.html' title='New Nails and New Moon'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-1034145328307182749</id><published>2009-06-01T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T16:57:20.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Late Night Tears and Gardening</title><content type='html'>My mom is driving me nuts. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; get me wrong, I love her to death-- this isn't a love issue. It's more of a annoyance issue. When you live far away from your family, you forget how intense they are and you just remember the good things. ah well... I need to be thankful for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been fun though to go to Landon and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Greysen's&lt;/span&gt; baseball games. They're so &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;stinkin&lt;/span&gt;' cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;. Last night Emma spent the night with her friend. Well, apparently, her friend fell asleep before she did and so Emma was left awake and alone and bored... and I think a little scared. So she called Nikki to come and get her. Nikki is one of those moms that is &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;sympathetic&lt;/span&gt; with her child, but also kindly tells her to suck it up. I think they call that tough love. Anyway, well she had me talk to Emma(while Emma is bawling her sweet little face off) thinking I could calm her down and talk some sense into her. That was pretty much the saddest thing I have ever done. I started crying with her and saying, "You just tell me if you want me to come get you. I will come get you right now!" and the whole time &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Nik&lt;/span&gt; is just staring at me like "this is turning out like I thought it would.... you need to tell her everything is fine and she needs to just fall asleep and she'll be fine....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm horrible at that stuff. I told Nikki to never do that to me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nikki's husband, Brandon, works nights so since I've been home I usually hang out with Nikki late at night. Last night we gardened at 3 in the morning. It was funny. And really nice outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided I like humidity when its cool and windy outside. I should move to a northern coast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to the casino tonight with my mom. Should be eventful. Going places in public with my mom always produces stories. I'll let ya know if I win big.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-1034145328307182749?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/1034145328307182749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=1034145328307182749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1034145328307182749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1034145328307182749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/06/late-night-tears-and-gardening.html' title='Late Night Tears and Gardening'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-8641667830792551315</id><published>2009-05-26T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:42:04.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>I'm home. Expect consistant blog updates for the next 2 1/2 weeks since the internet is fully accessable. (this is where Kim has her victory dance)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to drive from Tucson to Tulsa. People think I'm crazy. I don't really care. It takes about 22 hours because there's always a 2 hour nap in there somehwere. That nap usually takes place righ when I cross the Texas/Oklahoma border. I feel silly stopping there because I'm only 4 hours from home... but if I don't I will die. My mom watched this thing on dateline or something about how driving while sleep deprived is just as bad as driving while drunk. Don't think I didn't hear that at least 4 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was rolling into town I talked on the phone with Emma for like the last 15 minutes as she waited for me in the front yard. It was adorable. Her face made me tear up when I turned on her street. She was waiting for me at the stop sign and ran beside my car while laughing into the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I walked into the house and the boys were in their room playing so they didnt hear me walk in... so I was in the kitchen with Nik talking and the boys walked in to ask her something and they just stopped and stared at me for a split second then screamed and ran to hug me. It was super cute. Man, I've missed those kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Payton came over with my brother and she saw me, screamed and ran to me... but then saw Nikki on her run over to me and hugged her yelling "Aunt Nikki Aunt Nikki!!!!" and then stopped caring that I was in the room and she hasnt seen me in 5 months. haha..... oh little Payton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm home and it feels great. I can't wait to see my best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-8641667830792551315?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/8641667830792551315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=8641667830792551315' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8641667830792551315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8641667830792551315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/05/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-1407998218535634763</id><published>2009-05-09T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:24:02.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Merging, Weddings and New Hair. Selah.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So I went to a meeting today with the leadership team I work with and the leadership team I will soon be joining. Our senior pastor at the church(CityEdge) I work for is leaving and heading back to work for a church in Coweta, OK. so, our church plant is merging with another church plant in town. Make sense? Are we still considered a church plant when we've existed for a year? anyway... CityEdge is merging with Epic so I officially work for Epic church... well, starting tomorrow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm really excited about the change. I think its going to be very good for our church. I'm so pumped to work with Jake, the pastor of Epic. I think there's a lot of exciting possibilities for the future.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking of the future, I'm coming to Oklahoma soon for a nice long visit. May 24 I will be leaving here and heading that way. And I will be there for about 2 and 1/2 weeks. It will be good. Ive really been missing my family lately. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will see these silly faces in about two weeks..... I can't wait.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333999686310948402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SgYsdDab7jI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/opgo_rw4Dnw/s320/kids.jpg" border="0" /&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;I'm typing on a computer that is missing its backspace key. It sucks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I colored my hair... I'll post a photo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333994843058391074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SgYoDI5CyCI/AAAAAAAAAF4/jAvFAzE3jA4/s320/bailey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I look silly here... but atleast you can kinda tell what it looks like.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;here is a photo of me with one of my best friends, Kelsi. She is getting engaged soon. We're all excited. I need to start gettin' my run on. I gotta look good for a January wedding. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333996193731545218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SgYpRwiniII/AAAAAAAAAGA/vqxDf6QbkCA/s320/bailey2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-1407998218535634763?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/1407998218535634763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=1407998218535634763' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1407998218535634763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1407998218535634763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/05/merging-weddings-and-new-hair-selah.html' title='Merging, Weddings and New Hair. Selah.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SgYsdDab7jI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/opgo_rw4Dnw/s72-c/kids.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-2137748840422440263</id><published>2009-03-31T00:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T00:27:02.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's Been a Mistake-- I Burn With Passion</title><content type='html'>Today was a good day--- long--- but good. I was in a 6 hour meeting today with other church planters talking about the future of our churches and where God is directing us. The meeting was emotionally exhausting, but it was so awesome. The entire thing was just so Christ-centered. It is so encouraging to be in a room of people that are so broken over this city. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went hoping some questions would be answered and I left with even more questions. ah well... I should have known that would happen. I just want so bad for my life to honor God. Someone asked a question today. They said, "do you ever just want to move back home and go to school and be a normal college student?" and I thought, "no." I mean, the moving home stuff sounds pretty sweet, but I was not created to be a normal college student. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I was not created for that. I was just listening to some old school worship music and I was so broken by the song One Pure and Holy Passion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Give me one pure and holy passion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;give me one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;magnificent&lt;/span&gt; obsession&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;give me one glorious ambition for my life- to know and follow hard after You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To know and follow hard after You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;to grow as you disciple in the Truth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this world is empty, pale, and poor compared to knowing you, my Lord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lead me on and I will run after You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is so my heart right now. God will provide. I'm trusting and resting in Him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-2137748840422440263?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/2137748840422440263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=2137748840422440263' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2137748840422440263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/2137748840422440263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/03/theres-been-mistake-i-burn-with-passion.html' title='There&apos;s Been a Mistake-- I Burn With Passion'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-4653299360853790831</id><published>2009-03-28T15:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T16:01:41.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Concerts and Tattoos</title><content type='html'>I went to that Hawk Nelson, Jeremy Camp, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;MercyMe&lt;/span&gt; concert last night. It was really good. I felt bad because I'm not the biggest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;CCM&lt;/span&gt; fan... and I think a lot of Christian concerts are just corny and semi-ridiculous... but it was actually really good. And it got me thinking. I'm really glad God made musicians/artists. People complain about them all the time-- at least the circles that I'm in(which is weird because I'm surrounded by artists... so essentially they would be complaining about themselves....?)-- but I'm really thankful for them. They just have so much passion and it's cool to see them get so excited about the gospel. It just spreads like wildfire. I love it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got tattoos on my wrists the other day. It hurt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;waaaaaay&lt;/span&gt; more than I thought it would. I got "Grace" on my left wrist and "Truth" on my right. In Greek. I love them. My best friend helped me. When I got to the shop with my original tattoo idea, my tattoo artist basically told me not to get what I was wanting because it would look like crap in 10 years. I'm glad I listened to him. I'm really happy with these. As soon as they heal i will post photos. They're &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;looking&lt;/span&gt; pretty funky right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sitting in a coffee shop right now and I'm sitting next to these ladies who are all in their 40s and they're working on a class project. older women are always such overachievers when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;they're&lt;/span&gt; in college. They're so intense. There are 5 of them at the table next to me. I came here to relax... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pff&lt;/span&gt;... that didn't happen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't like being stressed. I'm a fairly chill, low intensity kind of gal. Not these days. There is so much going on around me and so many though process going through my brain. I don't like that. I'm in need of some good '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt; serenity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm so glad Christ is so peaceful. His yoke is easy. I love that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; I have to go to Costco. I hate that store. Let's hope this is  a good experience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-4653299360853790831?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/4653299360853790831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=4653299360853790831' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4653299360853790831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4653299360853790831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/03/concerts-and-tattoos.html' title='Concerts and Tattoos'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-4527015761552613200</id><published>2009-03-23T01:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T02:19:20.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm doing this for you</title><content type='html'>Ive noticed that when I don't blong on a consistant basis... like every other day or so... I can't figure out anything to write about. I'm poor and cant afford internet at my house so that's why I don't write consistantly. I wish I did. I like going back and reading old blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching tv at my Kelsi's house tonight(because I can't afford cable either) and there was a program on TLC about a man with elephant's disease. Hey kim, it was the guy from Portugal. It was crazy. The whole time I was thinking,"I know that guy. I've sat with him. I use to live there. I went to that coffee shop all the time. I love that restaurant......etc..." It made me sad. I miss that place so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm growing out my hair. I hate this process. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep long hair while in hair school? Everyone is so "cut happy" and they just want to cut it right off. I don't trust any of those girls though. Taylor has ruined me for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading through Isaiah 6 tonight and I was just overwhelmed by the gospel. Ya know, when you are truly in awe of God's holiness the things of this world don't seem to really matter anymore. I want to live like that. Man... lately I have seen so many people get so consumed by selfish ways of thinking. If they truly grasped to greatness of holiness of God those things would be like dust in the wind. But ya know, who am I? By no means have I overcome myself. Paul knew what he was talking about with that whole "die to yourself daily" stuff. Man it's hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm praying through some pretty huge things right now. But what's new?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-4527015761552613200?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/4527015761552613200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=4527015761552613200' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4527015761552613200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4527015761552613200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-best-mate-said-people-think-im.html' title='i&apos;m doing this for you'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-1877927499271393783</id><published>2009-03-06T21:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T21:33:55.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>High School = Boo</title><content type='html'>I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;currently&lt;/span&gt; sitting in the room with a high school couple. I could shoot myself. They are constantly bickering and saying "I hate you" and wrestling. Here is a pic of what I'm currently living through.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310313761480562914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SbIGOxbq2OI/AAAAAAAAAFw/fJObuuwjZhE/s320/baileyco.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'd rather scratch my eyeballs out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Brianne... the girl in the photo above... thought the show &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;CSI&lt;/span&gt; was real. Like reality. Like actuality. Seriously? Who thinks that? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bonanza&lt;/span&gt;. She thought that was real too. We then talked about how the time period is real... and the show is possibly based off real accounts in history... but no, Brianne. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bonanza&lt;/span&gt; is not reality TV. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;wow. Thank you public schools. I need a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cig&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-1877927499271393783?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/1877927499271393783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=1877927499271393783' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1877927499271393783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1877927499271393783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/03/high-school-boo.html' title='High School = Boo'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SbIGOxbq2OI/AAAAAAAAAFw/fJObuuwjZhE/s72-c/baileyco.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-5688307613058555200</id><published>2009-03-04T00:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T00:41:01.155-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leave the Drama for Your Mamma</title><content type='html'>Today was a fun day. I went to lunch with the girls A.K.A. Kelsi and Julia. They're so much fun. I cut Kelsi's(the one on the left) hair last night. She has been growing it out forever and it's finally to the length were she wants it. Well, I cut it about an inch too short and she was sad that her hair was "gone". I cried. Don't tell her. she doesn't know. My best friend is right. She said, "hey.. it's good to be humbled every once in a while."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sa46HbPzYxI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qA8icilH-Gw/s1600-h/039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sa46HbPzYxI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qA8icilH-Gw/s320/039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309244909963928338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That smile up there is a typical &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ramey&lt;/span&gt; smile. We all do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LifeGroup&lt;/span&gt; was so good tonight. We've been talking about prayer and how God answers them and how sometimes He doesn't. We talked about the different prayers we pray... so on and so on. I love how it ended though because it was like we came to the realization that everything we were talking about was so self-focused and not focused on the sovereignty and beauty of the Lord. So then we started talking about out favorite attributes of God and it was so beautiful. We were all smiling through our tears. Even the men. I love when men cry over Beauty. It was a great time. And we just prayed, telling God how beautiful and amazing and glorious He is.... and I just kept thinking "He loves this. This makes Him so happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a fantastic conversation with my roommate, Julia(the one on the right up there) about relationships. I came to the realization last night that I have never had a godly relationship. I've dated my fair share of guys...many of them--really great guys, but never have I been in a relationship where he has been the leader and we really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;seeked&lt;/span&gt; the Lord together. I'm looking forward to that.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sa494w3WxvI/AAAAAAAAAFg/7-U7-buHPw4/s1600-h/054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sa494w3WxvI/AAAAAAAAAFg/7-U7-buHPw4/s320/054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309249056115443442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is us again. We were told to act like an animal. I think Kelsi is a pig. I'm a monkey. and I'm not exactly sure what Julia is... maybe a bird....?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame this picture on the fact that I'm a lightweight and had one drink which resulted in slight intoxication.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-5688307613058555200?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/5688307613058555200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=5688307613058555200' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/5688307613058555200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/5688307613058555200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/03/leave-drama-for-your-mamma.html' title='Leave the Drama for Your Mamma'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/Sa46HbPzYxI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qA8icilH-Gw/s72-c/039.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-1497211439489392119</id><published>2009-02-27T15:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T17:32:01.555-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Deep breaths... deep breaths..... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;My life has been rather insane these days. I'm definitely taking it one day at a time. I told my best friend to "excuse my cynicism-- I wake up to a continual burden daily". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I'm so dramatic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I read this thing on my cousin, Alyson's, blog today. It really calmed my spirit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I am leading you, step by step, through your life. Hold My hand in trusting dependance, letting Me guide you through this day. Your future looks uncertain and feels flimsy-- even precarious. That is how it should be. Secret things belong to the Lord, and future things are secret things. When you try to figure out the future you are grasping at things that are Mine. This, like all forms of worry, are an act of rebellion-- doubting my promises to care for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Whenever you find yourself worrying about the future, repent and turn to Me. I will show you the next step forward, and the one after that, and the one after that. Relax and enjoy the journey in My Presence, trusting me to open up the way before you as you go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I feel so needy in my prayer life these days. I know this is wrong-- but I often don't pray for myself because I feel it's selfish. But then God showed me that He wants to know the burdens of my heart and He wants to know the joys of my soul. So with that said, I've been very broken these days and I've just been pouring it out to God. And I feel so close to Him. It's really great. He reeeeally does calm the storm. He reeeeeally is all I need. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I'm currently on the phone with BFF-Kim and we're both writing and not talking to one another. I love her. I love how vulnerable I can be with her and she doesn't even judge me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/8926047546395051967-1497211439489392119?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/1497211439489392119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=1497211439489392119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1497211439489392119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/1497211439489392119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/02/prayer.html' title='Prayer'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6839329557090977045</id><published>2009-02-16T15:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T15:45:03.088-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cell phones= no school</title><content type='html'>so I started my third week of hair school this week. I had no idea how much I loved hair. This has been the best choice, educationally, I have ever made. I never would have thought I would say that. And I don't think it is the best choice for a lot of people. But definitely a great one for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of hair school, I got kicked out for the last three hours of class today. haha... rules are rules and the biggest rule on campus is we cant have our cell phones in class. and I peeked to check a text today and got caught. So out I was. What I don't get is somehow I get kicked out of class for my cell phone, but the girl sitting next to me is tweaking out on hardcore drugs everyday and she gets to sit in class..... oh well.... not bitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need new music in my car. Im sick of the same stuff everyday. Kim, remind me to make new cds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was an amazing day at church. I love my church. It was good to hear the gospel. Hearts were broken. It was great. It kills me to see people hurting. Man... people are really hurting in our church... but God is healing them. I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to hear God's voice. All the time. God speaks to me often, but I want a heart that can hear the quietest of whispers. I want my soul to be so in tune with God's. I want to pray more. And listen more. And obey more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me."-- John 10:27&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6839329557090977045?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6839329557090977045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6839329557090977045' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6839329557090977045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6839329557090977045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/02/cell-phones-no-school.html' title='Cell phones= no school'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-8371798744703535120</id><published>2009-02-07T23:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T00:02:10.883-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Babies....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sitting on the phone talking to my &lt;a href="http://www.kimberlywaldron.blogspot.com/"&gt;best friend&lt;/a&gt;. I love her. Do you want to know what I love about her? She truly desires to have a heart like God's. Her heart breaks over her broken-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ness&lt;/span&gt;. make sense? And she cares so much about the people that surround her and the spiritual location of their heart. She really wants to bring people closer to God's heart. She really is a beautiful person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have this dog. You've heard about him. His name is Huckleberry. I'm really fed up with him right now. I came home the other night and found that he had gotten into my make-up bag and completely destroyed many essential make-up items.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a breakdown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;right there in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;livingroom&lt;/span&gt; floor. Bawling. Thinking... I should sell him. Life would be easier. I could pay off some bills and I wouldn't have half-eaten make-up. I said this to my best friend and she said, "maybe you shouldn't have children."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's right. Because the day the shit hits the fan is the day I have a breakdown in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;living room&lt;/span&gt; floor and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;contemplate&lt;/span&gt; selling my children..... that shouldn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll just stick with Huck for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hair school&lt;/span&gt; this past week. I absolutely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;looooooooove&lt;/span&gt; it. I have no idea why I didn't do this sooner. I love it. love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright-- it's extremely late for me. 1:00 AM is late when you're use to 10:00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;G'night&lt;/span&gt; world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-8371798744703535120?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/8371798744703535120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=8371798744703535120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8371798744703535120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8371798744703535120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/02/no-babies.html' title='No Babies....'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-6091456888774251478</id><published>2009-01-21T14:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T20:23:51.982-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No photos this go-around</title><content type='html'>So I've quit smoking. I know... some of you... well, most of you probably didn't even know I was smoking. &lt;div&gt;But I was. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I'm not anymore. I've lost count of how many days I've been smoke free. Which is good. Because when you're counting day by day... hour by hour.... minute by minute... it's really difficult.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's easy now. I don't even really think about smoking. But in the first few days... when I did think about smoking all the time I would have to fill my time with weird things that would distract me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was going to post some pictures of my weird recent activity... but it wont let me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later, I suppose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My best friends from high school, Taylor and Kacy, are coming to visit me this weekend. I am so excited. This trip will be filled with trips to the ostrich farm, good restaurants, and mountain top fun!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I can get this thing to upload pictures by then I'll let ya have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;looksie&lt;/span&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;Miss you blog lovers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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 class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-6091456888774251478?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/6091456888774251478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=6091456888774251478' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6091456888774251478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/6091456888774251478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/01/no-photos-this-go-around.html' title='No photos this go-around'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-4758954225766522765</id><published>2009-01-13T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T10:54:07.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>man it's been crazy around here. On Saturday my good friend Ami(our pastor's wife) lost her grandparents, uncle, and dad in a horrible car accident. I'm sure you've heard something about it on the news. It happened near Houston, but the family was from the Tulsa area so it's been on the Tulsa news.&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine losing that many people at once. Losing a loved one is always hard, but when it is 4 people that you are very close to and that you adore.... and all of it so sudden.... sigh.... it makes me sick to my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the funerals are mid next week. Im going to do my best to get up there for them. But there is so much to do here to get the Creeches's home ready for Karla(Ami's mom) who will be moving in with them. She too was in the accident and suffers from injuries. She will be in a wheelchair for a few months so we need to get the house wheelchair ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry... this blog is more me just processing everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I adore my church. They have really wrapped their arms around Billy and Ami over the last couple of days and will continue to do so over the next year. Billy and Ami weren't at church on Sunday because they were on their way to Texas, so we had an amazingly intimate time of prayer and worship through song and it was just so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;We talked about Corinthians where it says when a part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers.... and that is what we are suppose to do with Ami and Bill. We are here to suffer, mourn, and ache with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, pray for Ami. In Psalms is says that God is close to the brokenhearted. That's all I keep thinking about when I think of her. And pray for Billy. Pray that he is her rock during this time. Also, they have two boys... one 10 and one 6. they are boys with many many questions. Pray that Billy and Ami have the patience with them to answer their questions and pray that through all this madness, God teaches them more about who He is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-4758954225766522765?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/4758954225766522765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=4758954225766522765' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4758954225766522765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4758954225766522765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/01/man-its-been-crazy-around-here.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-74233448776711108</id><published>2009-01-07T00:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T00:20:43.858-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Sweet Reunion</title><content type='html'>Man, has it been a while? A lot has happened too. I've been in Oklahoma for two weeks and now I am back home in Tucson. It feels wonderful to be back.&lt;br /&gt;The night I got back my friends and I sat around in my apartment, drank wine and told funny stories.&lt;br /&gt;I absolutely adore those people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive from Oklahoma to Arizona is horrible though.... but.... This guy made it easier.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SWRkss5LMPI/AAAAAAAAAFA/eREFjh05Tk4/s1600-h/huck.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SWRkss5LMPI/AAAAAAAAAFA/eREFjh05Tk4/s320/huck.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288462581567795442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my new puppy, Huck. He is absolutely precious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday is this saturday. My friends are scheming up something terribly fun. I'm excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too tired to do this right now. I'll blog again tomorrow. I've got fun pictures from my trip in Oklahoma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-74233448776711108?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/74233448776711108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=74233448776711108' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/74233448776711108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/74233448776711108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2009/01/oh-sweet-reunion.html' title='Oh Sweet Reunion'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SWRkss5LMPI/AAAAAAAAAFA/eREFjh05Tk4/s72-c/huck.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-4622733238762657471</id><published>2008-12-17T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T15:10:54.783-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disney land'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='california'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='weather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='violin'/><title type='text'>Foggy California Nights</title><content type='html'>Current location: Hotel Room in Anaheim, California. Across the street from Disney Land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INSANITY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not here to visit the land of Disney.&lt;br /&gt;Although that would be fun.&lt;br /&gt;I'm here surprising my great friend, Kelsi and watch her play violin at her senior recital. She will be graduating with a BA in Violin Performance from BIOLA this semester.&lt;br /&gt;Your final recital is a big deal. I remember mine. It's an emotional thing. It's nice to have family and friends there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It kinda sucks though because this is my first time ever in California and it's cloudy and pouring down rain the entire time. It's alright though... I've still had a really great time. Nothing like sitting in a hotel room all day in your PJs, eating pizza and watching Maury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather was ridiculous on the way up here. Since we left Tucson the rain has been coming down heavy and the fog was so thick while driving through the mountains. My friend Logan was driving and it was really hard for him to drive through that stuff because he's from Tucson where it never rains and fog is a mystical thing that has yet to be seen in southern arizona.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole "no meat" thing has been kinda hard. Last time I did this I freaked out on a turkey sandwich.&lt;br /&gt;A turkey sandwich.&lt;br /&gt;Of all things.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the recital is tonight and we will be all dolled up so I'm sure there will be photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in the meantime, here is an awesome picture of Landon and Emma. This is a favorite family pastime of ours. When you fight with a sibling, you sit on the couch and hold hands. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUmF_dGKZRI/AAAAAAAAAE4/uuPPJ7e6ggc/s1600-h/bailey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUmF_dGKZRI/AAAAAAAAAE4/uuPPJ7e6ggc/s320/bailey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280899363257345298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My parents/grandparents did this with us. I find it highly effective and will do this with my children. Unless I just have one child. And in that case, they will hold hands with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-4622733238762657471?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/4622733238762657471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=4622733238762657471' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4622733238762657471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4622733238762657471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/12/foggy-california-nights.html' title='Foggy California Nights'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUmF_dGKZRI/AAAAAAAAAE4/uuPPJ7e6ggc/s72-c/bailey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-69764882718540237</id><published>2008-12-12T02:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T03:39:06.396-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The hustle and the bustle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJDzb5gOqI/AAAAAAAAADw/1tbR09vx4Nw/s1600-h/table.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJDzb5gOqI/AAAAAAAAADw/1tbR09vx4Nw/s320/table.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278856264172976802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh, the madness has begun.&lt;br /&gt;This is currently what my dining room table looks like due to Christmas present making. I'll be home in just a little over a week. I'm completely stoked, to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm absolutely in love with www.etsy.com thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.shannonramey.blogspot.com/"&gt;Shannon&lt;/a&gt; and&lt;a href="http://www.kimberlywaldron.blogspot.com/"&gt; Kim&lt;/a&gt;. It's simply amazing. I've gotten so many gift ideas from this place. Why would I buy their stuff when they tell me how they make it?&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I'm just cheap. But even if I had money, I think I would make the stuff. I love making Christmas gifts for people. It's way more fun that buying things.&lt;br /&gt;I'm stumped about what to get Jeff(brother) and Brandon(brother-in-law) for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;They are so difficult.&lt;br /&gt;Well, actually they're easy.&lt;br /&gt;If I wanted to buy them a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;beanie&lt;/span&gt; or a shirt or something... that would be easy.&lt;br /&gt;But if I want to be creative and make them something... ugh... good luck pleasing them.&lt;br /&gt;I'll probably give in and go with a shirt. It's about them anyway right? haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the church I work for is planting a second campus on the University of Arizona campus at the end of January. I'm very excited about this. At first I was nervous and had many questions. But that's how I get about things. I have to really process things. I usually do this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;out loud&lt;/span&gt; with my best friend, Kim.&lt;br /&gt;She's the best listener. Really.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, now I'm really excited about this second campus. The more time I spend down at the university, the more I realize the huge need for a culturally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;relevant&lt;/span&gt; church on campus. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;There &lt;/span&gt;are a couple christian clubs on campus which have about a hundred students that attend their "meetings", but other than that... there is nothing.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;and there are what? like 40,000 students there? holy cow.... we've got our work cut out for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently very burdened. God is speaking to me and telling me to be bold and to speak truth into people's lives.&lt;br /&gt;My insecurities are really getting in the way. Here's the deal: I'm a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;verrrrrry&lt;/span&gt; opinionated person... as most of you know. And I just really want to be able to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt; my opinion from the what God is telling me to tell others. Make sense? So if you want to pray for me, that's how you can do it. Pray for wisdom and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;discernment&lt;/span&gt;. Pray I become less like Bailey and more like Jesus. That should cover it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really miss my dad these days... well every day really. Here's some really cute pictures of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJKDkz84jI/AAAAAAAAAD4/PJoa73RJfxc/s1600-h/dad+and+greysen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJKDkz84jI/AAAAAAAAAD4/PJoa73RJfxc/s320/dad+and+greysen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278863138513281586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is him with baby &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Greysen&lt;/span&gt;. How sweet is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJK2Y7gKxI/AAAAAAAAAEA/PthPf-gOuk0/s1600-h/dadnme.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJK2Y7gKxI/AAAAAAAAAEA/PthPf-gOuk0/s320/dadnme.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278864011497057042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Hahaha&lt;/span&gt;. I love this photo. I am such a dork. I'm blaming that really awesome sweatshirt on the fact that it was a gift after my house burned down. Don't judge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJLejjfVAI/AAAAAAAAAEI/4jBUFvsc55Q/s1600-h/christmas+with+dad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJLejjfVAI/AAAAAAAAAEI/4jBUFvsc55Q/s320/christmas+with+dad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278864701543896066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And here is my ultimate favorite. This is my dad and I 19 years ago on Christmas morning. I have no idea what I got that year for Christmas, but I bet you anything I played in that box more than I played with my new presents.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-69764882718540237?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/69764882718540237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=69764882718540237' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/69764882718540237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/69764882718540237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/12/hustle-and-bustle.html' title='The hustle and the bustle'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SUJDzb5gOqI/AAAAAAAAADw/1tbR09vx4Nw/s72-c/table.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-8097976086340560338</id><published>2008-12-08T22:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T03:49:18.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God Made My Fingers and God Made My Toes.</title><content type='html'>So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; filling out this paper work for school next semester. It's crazy. Basically, I'm your typical middle-class American college student that makes enough money to not qualify for any grants, but not enough money to actually pay $25,000 to go to school. &lt;div&gt;Beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So about this paperwork. Basically here's what it is. It's called a professional judgement form. Since my Dad has been gone, my Mom's income has dropped drastically. But that doesn't show on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;FAFSA&lt;/span&gt;. So I have to send in all of this stuff and if it's approved, I may get my school paid for. Which would be awesome. If it isn't approved... well... we'll figure out plan B later. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Financial Aid has never been an easy-breezy process for me. I think those people were horribly damaged at some point in their life. They aren't good people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's something you should know: I'm currently not eating meat. I've done this before... but it didn't last as long as I had intended. I always thought this would be easier because I only eat chicken, fish and turkey... but those are hard for me to give up. But ya know, Jesus died for me. I can go without meat. So if you have an vegetarian recipes... pass them on over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm "babysitting" at my friend/boss's house because he is in the emergency room. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Around 7 AM tomorrow morning he will be appendix-less.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's what I walked into this evening:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-sf2p/v650/36/85/500299136/n500299136_1010090_5750.jpg" id="myphoto" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I about peed my pants. This is the weirdest dog on the planet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;shh... don't tell Bill. He's very partial.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And here is what is in their front lawn:&lt;img src="http://photos-d.ll.facebook.com/photos-ll-sf2p/v650/36/85/500299136/n500299136_1010123_8329.jpg" id="myphoto" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is much funnier in person. Up close you can tell that it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pewter&lt;/span&gt; or whatever. But from the inside of your car it looks like a black Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't expected at all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's late and I'm bored. We don't have television at our home so when I'm at Billy and Ami's.... I binge. It's bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just watched 2 hours of Dawson's Creek.(I'm pretty sure I've never seen a full episode of that show until now.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ugh... I must go to bed. I'm going to go lay down with this guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-8f9be681b9f1a4f2" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8f9be681b9f1a4f2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331590441%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D41AA09C4CB5806A2E0496DD4CDA9EB3719BA1B42.810DAAED6EE071511D8809F3C4854C00956DE02F%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8f9be681b9f1a4f2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DQ4U84yysMM_MQbwRI0hrKWwyJ5U&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v19.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D8f9be681b9f1a4f2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331590441%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D41AA09C4CB5806A2E0496DD4CDA9EB3719BA1B42.810DAAED6EE071511D8809F3C4854C00956DE02F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D8f9be681b9f1a4f2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DQ4U84yysMM_MQbwRI0hrKWwyJ5U&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-8097976086340560338?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=8f9be681b9f1a4f2&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/8097976086340560338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=8097976086340560338' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8097976086340560338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/8097976086340560338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/12/god-made-my-fingers-and-god-made-my.html' title='God Made My Fingers and God Made My Toes.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-3440785123178776331</id><published>2008-12-06T21:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T22:00:20.934-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So many thoughts...</title><content type='html'>I haven't blogged in a week and a half. That's ridiculous. I don't even know what to write about because there is so much....&lt;br /&gt;I'll manage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we had two baptisms at CEC. It was awesome. We dunked them in our hot tub at my house. It was so much fun. I love my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God is teaching me a lot right now and it's super overwhelming. But in a good way.... know what I mean?&lt;br /&gt;I want so bad to be a person of humility. and integrity. and justice.&lt;br /&gt;Ya know, I pray for these things all the time but boy... apparently God is aware of the fact that I'm a "hands-on" type of learner because I am in the middle of situations where I'm constantly challenged with exuding the things of which I pray for.&lt;br /&gt;It's rough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving was good. It's always different spending holidays away from family... especially because my family is so tight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, many of you know this, but my sister recently got a breast reduction. Things went awesomely.  here's an lovely picture of her drugged self just out of surgery.&lt;br /&gt;She's going to love me for this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/STth3dc0jnI/AAAAAAAAADo/mDhYUhCqoBY/s1600-h/boob.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/STth3dc0jnI/AAAAAAAAADo/mDhYUhCqoBY/s320/boob.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276918993820880498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;bah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to Costco today. If you don't know what this is, it's basically a west coast Sam's but bigger and "better".&lt;br /&gt;Or worse.&lt;br /&gt;Depending on how you look at it.&lt;br /&gt;I tell ya what, I was disgusted there today.(dont get me wrong... I had a ton of fun because I love my friends and they make me laugh really hard.)&lt;br /&gt;But my heart was broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was crammed packed with people shopping for ridiculous amounts of crap. At one point in time, I voiced my opinion rather loudly and got a few bad looks from a couple ladies around me.&lt;br /&gt;shrug. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;I looked at my friend Billy and said, "I feel so American. Look at this place. It's disgusting. People are starving all over the world and we are surrounded by all this stuff. We can get whatever we want whenever we want it."&lt;br /&gt;I was quickly sooshed because people around me didn't like what I had to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An estimated 923 million people in the world go hungry.  &lt;p&gt;In developing countries nearly 16 million children die every year from preventable and treatable causes. Sixty percent of these deaths are from hunger and malnutrition.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;In the United States, 11.7 million children live in households where people have to skip meals or eat less to make ends meet. That means one in ten households in the U.S. are living with hunger or are at risk of hunger.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I want so bad to be more like Jesus and less like Bailey. Careful. When you start praying for these things, it's a hurtful process. You have to become very vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Good luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-3440785123178776331?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/3440785123178776331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=3440785123178776331' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3440785123178776331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3440785123178776331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-many-thoughts.html' title='So many thoughts...'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/STth3dc0jnI/AAAAAAAAADo/mDhYUhCqoBY/s72-c/boob.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-7582794173044017643</id><published>2008-11-26T14:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T15:26:21.077-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moms, Thanksgiving and Tacky Sweats.</title><content type='html'>Thanksgiving! I love this time of year. sigh...&lt;br /&gt;Cold weather. Football. Eating things you only eat on Thanksgiving. Spending all day with your family. Watching my Mom freak out in the morning because she always is overwhelmed with how much food she has to make. Seeing how many people we can cram into Aunt Janet's house. Feeling awkward every time Uncle Allen makes us stand in a circle and name something we're thankful for. oh the joys....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving feels different in Tucson though. I'm just so use to being with the 1 million people in our family and watching all the little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;rugrats&lt;/span&gt; run around. I'll get use to it, I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;We're having a "Thanksgiving-for-people-who-don't-have-families-Thanksgiving". Basically there will be about 12 single twenty-somethings gathering together for yummy food, flag football and lots of laughing.&lt;br /&gt;I have really cool friends.&lt;br /&gt;Here's proof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3YKSOtMdI/AAAAAAAAADI/4pO2thHidm8/s1600-h/mountain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3YKSOtMdI/AAAAAAAAADI/4pO2thHidm8/s320/mountain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273108409924530642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went up to Mount &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lemmon&lt;/span&gt; last night and all wore very colorful tacky outfits.&lt;br /&gt;It's suppose to snow up there tonight, so we figured last night would be our final chance to drive up there in our little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hondas&lt;/span&gt; without chains and 4-wheel drive.&lt;br /&gt;It was so much fun. We told creepy ghost stories and watched people make out in their cars.&lt;br /&gt;yuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3ZhsQkZJI/AAAAAAAAADQ/y7o3t1f3rDs/s1600-h/canyon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3ZhsQkZJI/AAAAAAAAADQ/y7o3t1f3rDs/s320/canyon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273109911560283282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of my cute mom and I while she was in Tucson for her 50&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday.&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, we're at the Grand Canyon.&lt;br /&gt;They aren't tricking you. It really is Grand.&lt;br /&gt;Here's another cute picture of her. I had such a good time with her while she was here.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3aMWp78JI/AAAAAAAAADY/UaRYkL8AyRw/s1600-h/mom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3aMWp78JI/AAAAAAAAADY/UaRYkL8AyRw/s320/mom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273110644495478930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wearing the same shirt in both of these pictures.&lt;br /&gt;Same shirt.&lt;br /&gt;Different days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that woman. Hug her tomorrow. It's going to be a rough day for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-7582794173044017643?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/7582794173044017643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=7582794173044017643' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7582794173044017643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7582794173044017643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/11/moms-thanksgiving-and-tacky-sweats.html' title='Moms, Thanksgiving and Tacky Sweats.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SS3YKSOtMdI/AAAAAAAAADI/4pO2thHidm8/s72-c/mountain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-130896772626394693</id><published>2008-11-25T02:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T03:35:05.755-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pink Mohawks and Words of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>Here's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Gre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSvYVuxCiAI/AAAAAAAAADA/NCX5gFkgJIM/s1600-h/grey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSvYVuxCiAI/AAAAAAAAADA/NCX5gFkgJIM/s320/grey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272545656609867778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ysen&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;He is, by far, the cutest 5 year old on the face of this planet.&lt;br /&gt;He is such a cheese ball.&lt;br /&gt;I love his "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mohawk&lt;/span&gt;". When he was three I colored his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;mohawk&lt;/span&gt; pink--- his favorite color at the time.&lt;br /&gt;Nikki thought it was hilarious, but Brandon did not.&lt;br /&gt;go figure.&lt;br /&gt;Now he is all boy. When you ask him he favorite colors he will tell you "black, brown, gray, blue and sometimes red".&lt;br /&gt;But don't let him fool you. This kid is a hardcore &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;momma's&lt;/span&gt; boy. He snuggles with Nikki every night.&lt;br /&gt;She loves it though. Since he is the last baby, she secretly doesn't want him to grow up.&lt;br /&gt;I don't blame her. Look at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He makes this silly face where he grins and squints &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSvVeHmOmJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/fT8BJUH0UDg/s1600-h/grey2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 291px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSvVeHmOmJI/AAAAAAAAAC4/fT8BJUH0UDg/s320/grey2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272542502179477650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Here ya go.&lt;br /&gt;He is so funny. In appearance, he is a boy version of Emma, but wants so much to be just like his big brother, Landon.&lt;br /&gt;It many ways he and Landon are polar opposites. Landon loathes being dirty or messy and Grey is the kid who colors his entire body in blue magic marker.&lt;br /&gt;Love it.&lt;br /&gt;I love being an aunt because I get to laugh at those moments and take photos, but as a mom you have to put them in time out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, I've whipped out the '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt; opera lately. For the past few days its been non-stop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Gioachino&lt;/span&gt; Rossini, Andrea &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Bocelli&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Vinvenzo&lt;/span&gt; Bellini, Sarah &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Brightman&lt;/span&gt;, Giacomo Puccini and Luciano Pavarotti. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;loooove&lt;/span&gt; it. Opera does something special to my soul.&lt;br /&gt;I tried falling asleep to it last night.&lt;br /&gt;That didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;I thought it would be peaceful. Nope. I was wrong. All I can do is listen and evaluate every note. The tone, dynamics, emotion... everything.&lt;br /&gt;I'll think I'll stick to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Sufjan&lt;/span&gt; Stevens when it comes to falling asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been really broken lately for people around me.&lt;br /&gt;For instance, I have a very close friend that struggles with homosexuality. In his heart of hearts he wants nothing more than to bless God and walk in His ways. But he also has a desire for a soul mate. Someone to come home to at the end of the day. Someone to think about while he's a work. Someone to dress up nice for.&lt;br /&gt;I don't blame him.&lt;br /&gt;But his prayer is for him to be able to love without sinning. For God to answer this prayer, one of two things would have to happen. Either Truth would have to change(which won't happen) or my friend's desire for a man would have to change into a desire for a woman. He has been praying for the past 10 years for God to change his desires. I believe God can do this. But my friend has lost hope and has come to terms with the fact that his life will, most likely, be spent alone.&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand why things like this happen.&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to Kim the other day about a completely different subject, but I believe the same principle applies: I'm convinced that God isn't always concerned with our comfort and that He'll do whatever it takes to make His name known.&lt;br /&gt;I know, that sounds heartless... which is unlike me.&lt;br /&gt;But, I believe, the testimony of my friend's life will change lives. If he chooses to say, "I don't understand why I have the desires I have, but I choose God's ways over mine. I will choose a life of abstinence because I want to bless God and make His name known." people will be changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray for my friend. It's been a difficult week. He is struggling. I want so bad to snap my fingers and change him. I want so bad to have the magic words that will make him feel all better. But I don't. I listen, pray and cry. That's what I can do. God has given me wisdom. Pray that I access it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-130896772626394693?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/130896772626394693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=130896772626394693' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/130896772626394693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/130896772626394693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/11/pink-mohawks-and-words-of-wisdom.html' title='Pink Mohawks and Words of Wisdom'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSvYVuxCiAI/AAAAAAAAADA/NCX5gFkgJIM/s72-c/grey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-5476799603511655705</id><published>2008-11-22T01:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T02:18:41.239-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This, That, and the Other.</title><content type='html'>I love productive days.&lt;br /&gt;Today I headed up to the church and my co-staffer(and roommate), Julia, and I gave it a complete &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;facelift&lt;/span&gt;. We cleaned and organized the back storage room. We labeled things... ah... I love labels. And my favorite job at all: I set up a donation booth for the village of Mata Ortiz, Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mata Ortiz is a very poor village in Mexico and our church is giving clothes, toys, hygiene products and the liking to them for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited about this.&lt;br /&gt;We talk so much at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;CityEdge&lt;/span&gt; about being like Jesus and it's so enjoyable to watch people give.&lt;br /&gt;The coolest(and the most intimidating) part about planting a church is you have the responsibility of planting the DNA of your church.&lt;br /&gt;My best friend, Kim, said it perfectly: It's kinda like raising a kid. If you cuss around your kid, your kid will cuss. Monkey see, monkey do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exactly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you are excited about giving to the people who need it the most, your church will be excited about giving to those who need it most. My church feels burdened for the people of Mata Ortiz. And I love that. It is the coolest thing to watch people grow in their love for Christ and become more like Him.&lt;br /&gt;I love my job.&lt;br /&gt;Here are three brothers from the village. In about a month they will have new clothes and soccer balls. Get ready.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfVfegKX9I/AAAAAAAAACA/mEZnqBvJgsI/s1600-h/BrosLb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfVfegKX9I/AAAAAAAAACA/mEZnqBvJgsI/s320/BrosLb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271416625601077202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I whipped out the '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;scrapbooking&lt;/span&gt; stuff today. It's been too long. I seriously &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;scrapbooked&lt;/span&gt; since... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;hmm&lt;/span&gt;... May?&lt;br /&gt;Ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to do an album about my Dad. I want my children to know him. It kills me sometimes when I think about my future children not having a Grumpy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, that was kinda sad.&lt;br /&gt;It happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfZ3PklHuI/AAAAAAAAACI/Bipdbgtt5Tw/s1600-h/kim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfZ3PklHuI/AAAAAAAAACI/Bipdbgtt5Tw/s320/kim.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271421431956446946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is my best friend Kim.&lt;br /&gt;And this is the best city in the world.&lt;br /&gt;I love her.&lt;br /&gt;and I love Lisbon.&lt;br /&gt;I was going to put up the funniest picture ever of her... but she would get mad at me.&lt;br /&gt;She makes me laugh so hard.&lt;br /&gt;.......&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;...............&lt;br /&gt;bah... I can't resist.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfbLV-GQzI/AAAAAAAAACQ/s7r_dHYx_cU/s1600-h/kimandtim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfbLV-GQzI/AAAAAAAAACQ/s7r_dHYx_cU/s320/kimandtim.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271422876783100722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-5476799603511655705?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/5476799603511655705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=5476799603511655705' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/5476799603511655705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/5476799603511655705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/11/this-that-and-other.html' title='This, That, and the Other.'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSfVfegKX9I/AAAAAAAAACA/mEZnqBvJgsI/s72-c/BrosLb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-7049023047846202800</id><published>2008-11-18T02:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T03:18:33.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Emma DeLaney Jones</title><content type='html'>I just talked to my best friend, Kim, on the phone for 5 hours.&lt;br /&gt;I miss her so much.&lt;br /&gt;I convinced her to be irresponsible tomorrow and skip work.&lt;br /&gt;She flirted with the idea... and I'm pretty sure she will be giving in.&lt;br /&gt;I guess time will tell....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSKeQjYjaLI/AAAAAAAAABw/VnWNJ9PZsDU/s1600-h/emma.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSKeQjYjaLI/AAAAAAAAABw/VnWNJ9PZsDU/s320/emma.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269948521190222002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This section of the blog will be dedicated to my 10 year old niece, Emma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture was taken by my sister at El Tequila earlier this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story goes something like this:&lt;br /&gt;Emma and her friend had to go to the bathroom so Nikki let them. Apparently they were taking forever so Nikki was curious and went in there to check on them.&lt;br /&gt;This is what she found.&lt;br /&gt;This girl is one of the funniest kids I have ever met. She is so bizarre.&lt;br /&gt;For the first 4 years of her life she thought she was a dog. Seriously. She would always crawl around and bark. And if you didn't pet her and say "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;niiice&lt;/span&gt; puppy" she would whine like a horribly neglected 3 day old puppy. It was so weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I mention that I dropped this child 3 times while under the age of 2?&lt;br /&gt;nah.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously though. She has a heart the size of Texas. She is brilliantly full of wit and sarcasm...(which often gets her in trouble). She is beautiful. Creative. Hilarious. Caring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She recently came home with a report card full of A's and one C.&lt;br /&gt;In social studies.&lt;br /&gt;I don't blame her.&lt;br /&gt;She went up to Nikki crying and saying, "I already know... I'm going to be grounded forever. I just hate social studies, mom!"&lt;br /&gt;Nikki told her it was fine and that she doesn't have to be the best at everything she does. As long as she puts everything she can into it, it's fine.&lt;br /&gt;It's a good lesson to be learned.&lt;br /&gt;I was proud of Nikki.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSKfeItgfGI/AAAAAAAAAB4/5mfNMLYFeSY/s1600-h/emma2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSKfeItgfGI/AAAAAAAAAB4/5mfNMLYFeSY/s320/emma2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269949854060149858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is Em again.&lt;br /&gt;I can't get enough of her.&lt;br /&gt;She's so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;In approximately 34 days I will get to see plenty of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya know, it's really hard being an aunt from three states away. You really miss those kids. It's especially hard on their birthdays. Until I moved to Tucson I was always &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; involved in their daily lives.&lt;br /&gt;I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;Now I see them twice a year. And I have to watch them grow through pictures and listen to how big they are getting over the phone. That's the hardest part about living in Tucson.&lt;br /&gt;For sure.&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see the men and women of God they will turn into. I already see it.&lt;br /&gt;I've never seen so much passion in a child as I do in Landon. Or the ample amounts of creativity like I see in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Greysen&lt;/span&gt;. Or the love and compassion like I see in Payton.&lt;br /&gt;I pray God will use them to change the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-7049023047846202800?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/7049023047846202800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=7049023047846202800' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7049023047846202800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/7049023047846202800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/11/emma-delaney-jones.html' title='Emma DeLaney Jones'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/SSKeQjYjaLI/AAAAAAAAABw/VnWNJ9PZsDU/s72-c/emma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-3988788697849272198</id><published>2008-11-13T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T01:38:17.717-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home is Where Your Heart is.....</title><content type='html'>Current location: Coffee &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Xchange&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should be working on writing the new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LifeGroup&lt;/span&gt; material.... yet I find myself blogging. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;oh..... sweet addiction... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ya know, I love this place. Not because of the coffee- it sucks actually.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always get lemonade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you Lisbon, Portugal for eternally ruining me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now that I think about it, the service here sucks. Well, except for the bald creepy guy that oddly worships me. Really. It's so weird. My roommate, Julia, loves it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me add that Julia is very beautiful. Very. And he wants nothing to do with her. It weird me out... but she loves it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;anyway, I digress....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love this place for the fact alone that is filled with college students. And random retired professors named Jim. And this homeless man that I adore named John. And this really hot doctor named.... something.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always want to talk to him but he intimidates me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I did talk to him once. He accidentally unplugged my computer chord and then plugged it back in and I said, "thanks". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw August Rush last night. It was really good. If you haven't seen it, you should. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Julia said, " omg Bailey, you'll love this movie. You'll bawl the whole time. I did."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't cry at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When things like this happen I wonder if I have a soul. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jim(the retired professor) just stopped by to borrow my computer chord. I love that man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm wearing an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;OU&lt;/span&gt; t-shirt right now and he reminded me for the third time that he graduated from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OU&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He left his heart in Oklahoma. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He moved out here with his ex-wife 30 years ago, but they divorced about 10 years ago. Since then he's always wanted to move back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder what is keeping him here.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I should probably get to work. It's going to be 3 AM before I know it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-3988788697849272198?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/3988788697849272198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=3988788697849272198' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3988788697849272198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/3988788697849272198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/11/home-is-where-your-heart-is.html' title='Home is Where Your Heart is.....'/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8926047546395051967.post-4945883183379930451</id><published>2008-11-10T16:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T16:49:31.525-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hello Blogger!&lt;br /&gt;This is definitely a step up from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wordpress&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I am one of those people that gets bored with the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;You all know that person.&lt;br /&gt;The person who changes their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ring tones&lt;/span&gt; all the time? You know, the person who is constantly changing their profile picture on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;? I know... annoying... but that's me. Take it or leave it.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why I'm like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently sitting on my bed with my roommate and good friend, Julia.&lt;br /&gt;We are both working on our computers. Occasionally we look up at one another and smile.&lt;br /&gt;Is this what married people do?&lt;br /&gt;I think I may have seen one too many romantic comedies--- they're like crack to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to a concert last night. My friend Logan plays in the band Rockets to London. He also plays in our band at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;CityEdge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;He did really great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt; I say "great" I feel like Mandy Moore's character in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because I Said So.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that movie.&lt;br /&gt;I told you they were like crack to me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really looking forward to the Christmas season. It's starting to get a little chilly here in Tucson. Ya know, like 60 at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whoa. Jump back Jack!&lt;br /&gt;60 is cold though when you're use to 110. It's a nice change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, but Christmas. I'm looking forward to it. I really miss my sister. And, oddly, my brother-in-law.&lt;br /&gt;If you really know that guy, you understand. He's a riot. If you don't know him, you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt;. He's brilliantly funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've already received my Christmas presents from my mother. She bought me a really cute dining room table from Pier One. I love it. She also bought me an iPhone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not because she buys me things. But because she takes care of me. And listens to me. And laughs at me, I think, harder than any other person on this planet. And she taught me what it means to love people. And she taught me how to bend the rules.&lt;br /&gt;She has quite the rebellious streak.&lt;br /&gt;I love that about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm done here. I think I have found a new love for blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8926047546395051967-4945883183379930451?l=baileycoates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/feeds/4945883183379930451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8926047546395051967&amp;postID=4945883183379930451' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4945883183379930451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8926047546395051967/posts/default/4945883183379930451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baileycoates.blogspot.com/2008/11/hello-blogger-this-is-definitely-step.html' title=''/><author><name>Bailey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15061186679309005491</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QxhQKYnddHY/TFkmgrdHhrI/AAAAAAAAAJI/sKnFO7dxOg8/S220/baileyrosenthaler.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
