<?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-3014291</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:38:08.109-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking upside down</title><subtitle type='html'>The thoughts and experiences of a confuessed, innocent sheltered catholic girl </subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-7658597519006897013</id><published>2007-03-18T15:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T15:09:54.499-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, my time today has been wasting time trying not to do school work.  While I was looking on the internet I came across my sisters blogger, and decieded to find out if my own page still exsited.  Too my surprise I found this page to still be on the internet.  maybe I will learn to start to use this again...we will see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-7658597519006897013?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/7658597519006897013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/7658597519006897013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2007_03_01_archive.html#7658597519006897013' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-106230367958437619</id><published>2003-08-31T00:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-31T00:21:19.600-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Two months have past, and my feelings stay the same.  Upset, depressed, confuessed, all at the same time.  I will admint when I am with friends I do not feel this way, but when I am by myself, he is the only thing which is on my mind.  It makes me frusterated that I can't get over him, but then at the same time, my stupid heart is saying no, don't give up on him, just wait it out and something good will come of all this.  I hate being the ex which won't get over the relationship.  I don't want to be like Wayne's ex girlfriend off of Wayne's World, but keeping all of my feelings inside and not expressing then to anyone just doesn't seem to be working.  I feel like I am too young to say that I am in love.  That word is just so strong and powerful, I don't want to be misusing it, but it doesn't seem to be misused, when I express my feelings towards him.  I just wish that guys would have the cominent to a relationship as I do.  I really don't want to genarlize the hole entire male race by saying that for my next two years of my life I shouldn't spend time on boys, because they will never commit to me.  That I should want for the two years until I go to university.  The only reason why I think that is because I want to wait for him, and save myself for him, but that is wrong.  The changes of him liking me are probably farely slim.  I need guidness, or something, but the only thing I truly want is him back.  Is that wrong of me.  I just don't know.  The thing which really hurts is that I know that he has moved on.  I know who he likes now, and it just kill me to think that he is able to like another girl.  I feel that I have done something wrong to have him break up with me.  I just can't see how he would just break up with me, when I still like him.  I my mind I think "what did I do wrong" "what can I do to get him back" but then I remember that I can't do anything about it.  What is done is done.  erg.  I hate that saying, it is so permant.  So I will still carry on life as I always do...I just don't know what to do anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-106230367958437619?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/106230367958437619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/106230367958437619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106230367958437619' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-106130994924948886</id><published>2003-08-19T12:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-19T12:19:09.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So many people mistake me for my sister. The thing is, we really don't look alike, well see has red hair and i have light brown.  There are some other differences too, but I don't know if I like the fact or if I don't.  I love my sister and all, and I will admint that I do look up to her, but I just really like being my own person.  Anna is a funny girl, so therefore I should be happy that people thing we are alike.  Meh, sisters...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-106130994924948886?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/106130994924948886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/106130994924948886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106130994924948886' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105839024885660505</id><published>2003-07-16T17:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-16T17:17:28.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>  First day of my first "real" job today.  Well it really isn't that bad.  I just wish people I knew wouldn't come to my work.  I feel like such a little geek wearing the uniform.  For your information, I work at Tim Horton's in my home town of Forest.  Meh, it is a job right and I do need money to go to university, since I am not allowed to go until I have enough money to pay for first year.  The only thing which bothers me about the work, is the older women who I work with seem to always try to take my tips and such, but I just have to remember that I hopefully won't be their when I am of that age...right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105839024885660505?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105839024885660505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105839024885660505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105839024885660505' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105779920694336265</id><published>2003-07-09T21:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-09T21:06:46.936-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>  Have you even woke up on day and found out that a someone you have gone to school for three years and you have never talked to them in you life is completely in love with you.  Weird.  They don't know anything about you, but they seem to thing that they are in love with who ever you are.  Crazy and scary.  Also not the greatest, but what can you do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105779920694336265?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105779920694336265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105779920694336265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105779920694336265' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105754516971173371</id><published>2003-07-06T22:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-06T22:32:49.693-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>  So, I have offically decieded that boys never grow up as long as they will live.  Today my brother, my dad and myself where swiming in my pool when my brother and my dad started to have a noodle fight.  Thoes noodles hurt some much when you are hit but one.  I think that I got burn from one..erg.  So anyways, my dad was going hard core in this fight, and my brother was losing pretty bad so i decieded to go and help him fight.  My brother and I were trying our best to just move our dad.  It took about ten minutes before we really even got anywhere.  Once my brother and I started to win, my dad backed out because we "hurt" his shoulder.  Whatever....we all know that it was because he couldn't take losing noodle fight to his two youngest children.  All I have to say is child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105754516971173371?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105754516971173371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105754516971173371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105754516971173371' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105716753708202932</id><published>2003-07-02T13:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-02T13:38:56.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>  Have you ever heard the saying "It is better to love and loss, then to never love at all."  Why do I feel like this is the worest standment ever.  To love is a great thing, but to love for such a short while and have such a great loss, is unbelieveable pain. When the last thing of your love you remember is your loss, how can it possibly be better to love and loss.  I just don't understand how people come up with these things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105716753708202932?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105716753708202932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105716753708202932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105716753708202932' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105672755636096417</id><published>2003-06-27T11:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-27T11:25:56.293-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So last night I had a soccer game, like every Thursday night.  We played against a team which is bascily made up of girls which go to my school.  I live about a half an hour from my school, so therefore I play for a team which all of the girls from my elementry school, infact, the "most popular" girl from my elementry school is on my school team and is the coaches daughter.  I think that when she goes to the game and sits she wants to get the boys attention and she doesn't even care what is going on the in game.  She tries to be the biggest flirt in the whole entire world.  Then when she is on the field she will punch people and beat people, or just spanz and swear at everyone...erg, It just makes our whole entire team look stupid and bad.  Every person on my team hates the fact she is like is.  She is so stupid.  I have no idea why I looked up to her in elementry school and wanted to be her.  She is so stupid and fact.  She gets whatever she wants, I just wish that someone would tell her how stupid she looks and how nobady likes her when she acts so stupid.  I well be honest, sometimes when I am in town and I see her she is extermly nice, but I don't really know if it is just a show or if she really likes me, only beucase she has been fact her whole life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to be mean, but what are people like this thinking.  It has to be the worest when someone act so stupid when they play sports but is totally different person outside of sports.  Is it just a show they put on to inpress you or what.  All I know is the I can't stand it...erg&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105672755636096417?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105672755636096417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105672755636096417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105672755636096417' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105666354087688807</id><published>2003-06-26T17:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-26T17:39:00.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why is it so hot outside, and why do I refuse to wear shorts.  You know the feeling when you go shopping, but you seem to not be able to find anthing that you really like, well that is that it was been like for me when I go shoping for the past couple of month, but it is not like I don't like the clothes it is that I don't what to end up having the same clothes as everyone else.  It is just so frusterating, I wish i knew about some secert store which nobody else knew about and then I could by all of my clothes their and nobody would ever have anything like, but we all know that those companies don't exist, it would truly make life alot easier though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105666354087688807?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105666354087688807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105666354087688807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105666354087688807' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105664049963822828</id><published>2003-06-26T11:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-26T11:14:59.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ERG!! Do you ever find that all you do is clean up after people.  In my house hold I am the youngest and only female which is a child to be living at home.  I have a 19 and a 22 year old brothers.  You would think that they are that old that they would understand that when one comes home from being somewhere and takes off their shoes that one would place their shoes on the shoe rack.  Just something small and simple, nothing to hard to ask for, but no, my brothers don't realise that it makes the house look like a mess, so they just leave their shoes lying around the house waiting for myself or my mother to come along and clean up after them.  It is not just their shoes being left behide, it is their dishes which don't make it to the dish washer, or their dirty closes which stay in the bathroom instead of going to the hamper, or putting away the blanket downstairs after one has watched t.v.  Erg, it has to be one of the most annoing things a guy to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you are a guy or even a messy girl, please put forth an effort to clean up after yourself, beucas you are creating twice the amount of work for someone else, and let's be serious, what is the little amount of time it will take you to put your shoes away than for one person to put away all six pairs of your shoes.  ERG&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105664049963822828?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105664049963822828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105664049963822828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105664049963822828' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-105663589235247611</id><published>2003-06-26T09:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-26T09:58:12.320-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It has been a very long time since I have blogged, but over the past couple of weeks many things have happened to me which I fell I need to express myself in a certain manor.  The only thing which came to mind was my blog.  I have grown up since I had originally started my blog page and now I know that I can find the time to express my feelings.  My page might not be the nicest or the coolest, but I couldn't really care less, all I need it for is to relieve what I have been feeling that I have been walking upside down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-105663589235247611?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105663589235247611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/105663589235247611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105663589235247611' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-7961711</id><published>2001-12-15T22:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-12-15T22:51:49.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I went to my best friends semi formal.  I saw people who went to my elementry school which I had seen in two years.  I elementry I wsa never the most popular girl, but I was neither the least.  I was always was afraid and nervous.  I always was afraid of what every one thought of me.  Last year I was the same person, but this year I don't really care as much.  I don't want people to hate me of think that I am a bitch, so I try to be the nicest person I can.  Last night I got to the dance and I just started to dance without anyone around.  I was doing some dance moves I would never do before.  I wasn't durty if that is what you are thing.  I would go up and talk to all the people who I would of last year thought twice to go and talk to.  I;m proud of myself becuase I have over come my fear of people think I'm "weird" or "uncool".   I don't think I'm "weird" or "uncool" and I don't think my friends think that either and that is all that matters to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-7961711?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/7961711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/7961711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_12_01_archive.html#7961711' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-7071159</id><published>2001-11-12T18:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-11-12T18:31:10.153-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The past weekend I went to my sisters unisversity.  I thought it was going to be all fun and it was going to like it was when sister lived at home, just fun and games.  When I got there the first thing we did was meet some of her friends and then we went to her b/f.   It wasn't that bad it just made me feel that my only sister couldn't live a day without spending time with her b/f, for me.  I guess I'm just second best in her life right now even though she can spend ever other day with her b/f.   We never see each other.  It just makes me mad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-7071159?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/7071159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/7071159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_11_01_archive.html#7071159' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6970723</id><published>2001-11-08T14:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-11-08T14:35:24.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The last two times I have go to band my section (french horns) get complimented for how great we sound.  I remember last year we never ever were complimented so finaly we have gotten some graditued.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6970723?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6970723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6970723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_11_01_archive.html#6970723' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6970413</id><published>2001-11-08T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-11-08T14:23:37.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today at my school it is a half day, and in the morning before I went to bad, which was 6:15, I packed a lunch.  Our scheudel for the  day was to have lunch at the very  end.  I left school with my brother and he went and drove to a deli.  I stayed in the car and eat my lunch.  Little did I know that most of my friends which are in grade 12 go and eat there two.  A car pulled up beside me and it just had to be my friends.  I was feeling imbarrised so I tried to hid my sandwich.  I so dumb since I was sitting in a parking lot waiting for my brother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6970413?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6970413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6970413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_11_01_archive.html#6970413' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6891933</id><published>2001-11-05T17:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-11-05T17:06:32.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I so mad, everytime I try to go on ICQ it says that there is an errero in my MSVCRT.DLL and I don't know what that means or how to fix it.  If anyones knows how ot fix it &lt;b&gt;PLEASE&lt;/b&gt; tell me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6891933?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6891933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6891933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_11_01_archive.html#6891933' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6744508</id><published>2001-10-30T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-10-30T20:32:54.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A coulpe years ago my sister and I would play Mario Party for N64.  We were the best at it.  So tonight I was playing the game again and there is a game which requiers you to rotate the joy stick really quick.  I played that game today and go a blister on the plam of my hand.  It is about a centameter in diamitor.  I have gotten it before for playing the game, but I fought that I could get it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6744508?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6744508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6744508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6744508' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6674956</id><published>2001-10-28T07:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-10-28T07:15:30.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning I woke up at 7 o'clock.  Last night I had dreamed that my oldest brother was dirving the bettle and had crashed. I love the bettle and I want my parents let me drive it went a get my linses(it might not happen) so I got up and when outside to  make sure the bettle wasn't beaten up too bad.  As I was walking around I realized that I had dreamet the whole thing.  So I went back inside hoping that nobody notice what I was doing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6674956?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6674956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6674956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6674956' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6674902</id><published>2001-10-28T07:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-10-28T07:07:14.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Just to tell you, me team didn't make it to OFSAA. We were in point away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6674902?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6674902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6674902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6674902' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6593747</id><published>2001-10-24T20:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-24T20:18:21.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tomorrow I am going to SWSSAA for cross country.  My team has to get 2 place to go to OFSSA and I'm so nervious right now, but I hope my team will make it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6593747?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6593747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6593747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6593747' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6593619</id><published>2001-10-24T20:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-24T20:11:49.840-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today in English class I realiesd that I have missed so many class that I am about 30 questions behide in Romeo and Juliette.  So I have to find the time to catch up.  I think this weekend should be good.  I don't like being behide but I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6593619?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6593619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6593619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6593619' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6504799</id><published>2001-10-21T14:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-21T14:29:06.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think that my relationships with my friends couldn't be worst.  The last three time I have gotten together with my  best friend we have gotten into a fight and it jsut really bugs me, becuase we have been friends since we were 4 and she thinks that I don't like hanging out with her anymore.  We have been friends for so long shouldn't it be easier for us to say friends forever?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6504799?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6504799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6504799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6504799' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6468645</id><published>2001-10-19T17:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-19T17:39:42.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, now I have time to write about today and yesterday.  Let me start out in my first perido class, religion.  My teacher, who likes little children, had a preist come in and talk to us.  He was talking about how we are all in God's family and that it is like a football game.  He was asking questions, but nobody seemed to want to answer, so I deiced to answer one.  He asked me for my name and I told him.  When he heared it was like he had to doudle check if my name was really Lydia.  He seemed suprised and started to tell the class about a women in the bible by the name of Lydia.  How she helped St. Peter speard Christianity around Europe.  Know this preist laughed at silly things which he was the only one who thought it was funny, and the fact that we decied to tell everyone about my name was just killing my class because they were trying not to laugh.  I had fun though.  &lt;br /&gt;I left to go to the cross country meet.  I was so scared the whole entier time.  I ran the race and came 8th.  I also ran senoir when I was suppose to be a first year junor.  At the very beging of the race one of my friends spicked (went someone spick, from the bottom of their shoe cuts you) me in my leg. I felt myself get cut, but forgot all about it.  I ran the race and once I finished the race someone acked what happened and I had just remebered what happened.  I went and got bandaged up.  &lt;br /&gt;I left for soccer with my day.  I got just before the game started.  I ran on the field and I had to put my long sleved shirt underneath my soccer shirt and at this time I didn't care what people thought so I took off both of my tops (I had a bra on) changed.  We ended up losing 3-0.&lt;br /&gt;I got home nad a hour later I left for ringette.  I hated practice.  My coach was being an ass.  He keep on making you do hockey lines.  I was going to flip.  &lt;br /&gt;After ringette I went back to my friends house, she went and had a showere and I stayed downstairs and watched T.V.  After she was done having a shower she wanted to go upstairs to her room, so I went upstairs and waited for her.  I fell asleep because she didn't come upstairs for a very long time.  She was kind of mad at me that I fell asleep,but she got me a pop and I was awake.  After an hour we went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;Right know I have to go and take a shower before I leave so read this and comment and I will have more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6468645?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6468645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6468645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6468645' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6464281</id><published>2001-10-19T14:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-19T14:07:29.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I was going to blog yesterday before I went to ringette, but I had to go and  eat supper, so I go and get off the internet and after supper my borther goes on the computer and closes my blog page!!!!!!  He was on the computer until I left, so right know I'm just blogging at my friends house blogging so that she can go on my page.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6464281?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6464281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6464281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6464281' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6393395</id><published>2001-10-16T21:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-16T21:28:07.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today I was soppose to have a soccer game, it was soppose to be the biggest game from my team, but since it rained and rained all day and the last couple day sthey cancelled it.  Well they moved it to thursday.  So know on thursday I go to school at 7:00 because I go to band, then at 10 I leave for a x-country meet, right after my meet I leave to go to the soccer game, once I get home I go to ringette practice and after SUVIVOR!!  but that will be my day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6393395?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6393395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6393395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6393395' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6331784</id><published>2001-10-14T14:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-14T14:37:17.653-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So this morning I slept in when I was soppose to get a ride into town with my borther.  It was my bothers fault beucase I wasn't sleeping in my bedroom when her went to wake me up, but anyways I eat and took a shower.  I called around to the other ringette refs (I had to ref) but not one could do it.  I deiced that I would have to bike to town.  The thing is that it takes me a half an hour to bike into town and I only had 20 minutes to bike into town, but I started to bike anyways.  While I was biking I got close to my neighbours house and I dieced to ask if they could drive me in.  Luckly they said yes.  I just got to the arena in time.  At that time I was have such a bad day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6331784?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6331784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6331784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6331784' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6247943</id><published>2001-10-10T19:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-11T08:02:25.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I went to cross country practice.  We were given our run so me and my partner started.  On the trail we were running on there is a wire which is about 5cm up from the ground.  I was running over it, and I thought that I made it over, but I didn't.  I fell and my knees were as black as black.  I got up and just laughed, while everyone else was all worried.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6247943?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6247943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6247943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6247943' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6247723</id><published>2001-10-10T19:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-11T08:12:39.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So yesterday I was planing on blogging after I had watched Buffy the Vanpier Slayer (I'm not a usual, sorry Nina, but I watch once in a while).  My parents decied for me that I should be in bed right after the show was over, therefore I wouldn't be able to blog or do anything else I wanted to do.  So I was watching the show and during commercials I had to brush my teeth, wash my face and do the things I do before I go to bed.  After the show (it is 9) my parents send me to bed.  Lets be serious, I think I'm old enough to decide when I'm able to go to bed, but 9.  That is a little early, but yes I did go to bed late a couple a times last week, but I was super tired and I also decied to do it by myself.  It just makes me so mad!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6247723?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6247723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6247723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6247723' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6158340</id><published>2001-10-06T18:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-06T18:42:52.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today I was home alone for the morning, becuase my parents and my oldest brother are gone to a pumkin feast.  My ofter brother is at work and my sister was at work.  I woke up at 10 and eate  breakfeast and downloaded ICQ.  I started to work on my ark assignment, and them my sister came home.  My sister wanted to watch a movie so I picked out a movie and we watched it upstairs in my room.  I couple of friends called while we were watching the movie.  My sister fell asleep.  I came downstairs and didn't some more af my art.  Iwas on  Icq and I realised that it was 5:30 and I thought that my parents were going to  be home in a half an hour.  I got upstairs and my sister wakes up.  It was 5;40 and I remeber that Anna is soppose to go to her boyfriends house for Thanksgiving.  She is probly so mad at me and I think that she thinks that she told me to  wait her up, but she didn't.  So now she willl be mad at me for a while, but everyine makes mistakes, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6158340?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6158340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6158340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6158340' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6158110</id><published>2001-10-06T18:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-06T18:28:41.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This person I now is trying to get into my blod page, but for some reason she is unable because she can only go on  blog pages which have been use in the last 24hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6158110?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6158110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6158110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6158110' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6093453</id><published>2001-10-03T20:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-03T20:38:37.916-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I was in my first period class, reglion.  My best friend is in my class and her mother had died last November.  We were reading a passage from a relgion book about a letter which come from a mother to a duaght and the mother was writing befroe she was killed(the letter was from WW2).  My friend has a very hard time with these thing and she stared to cry.  I ask my teacher if we could be excused from class, he said okay.  About 5 minutes later he comes out of the   class room and asks us to go  back into  his class.  Of course my friends doesn't want to go and I girl from my class  is walking back from the bathroom.  We told her to tell our teacher that we are  not going back to class.  We don't go and walk down to the main foyer and start a conversaion with a guy in OCA.  Now this was a big event for me beacuse I have never since today and been at school but not oof been in my class.  It is not that big because we did have a excuse,  but in my eyes it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6093453?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6093453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6093453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6093453' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-6093299</id><published>2001-10-03T20:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-03T20:30:28.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay now that I have a computer (my older sister took our computer to school and my family had to order a new one) I am able to bloge again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-6093299?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6093299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/6093299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6093299' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-5530057</id><published>2001-09-06T21:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-06T21:48:30.586-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today during my lunch {my school has two lunches, junor (9,10), and seniors (11,12,OAC).  today I was doene ating and was talking to some of my friends.  One of my guys friends (he is tall loud and very outgoing) came and did something with he head which looked so dumb, so my reactions is to cruch down and start laughing. Mean while I guy pants the guy who's privest are very neart my face, and I see his boxes and startedlaughing my ass off.  By this time my friends are wondering why I'm laughing  so hard, and giving my funny looks.  So I try to stop laughing, I got on my feet and said"anyways"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-5530057?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5530057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5530057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5530057' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-5529850</id><published>2001-09-06T21:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-06T21:48:45.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't blogged in a very long time but now that school is in I will start again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-5529850?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5529850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5529850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5529850' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-5075632</id><published>2001-08-13T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-13T22:49:15.363-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A coulpe hours after my run, I wanted to do makeovers for fun, but my one friend didn't so see went down stairs.  I gabbed some deep red blush and put some on my nose.  I thought it would make me look like Rodulph.  It didn't really work.  So I decied to make it look like I got burn, mean while my other friend was giving me the weirdest looks and she asked what I was doing.  I told that I'm trying to look burnt and she laughed because I didn't look like it, again.  She told me to put freckles on my face with eyeliner, so I did.  Then I put on dark blue eyeshadow all the way up to my eye brows.  And I just couldn't forget the bright red lipstick.  Bye no my one friend was luaghing her ass off and then we heard the door beel ring and how could it be.  No other than my mom.  Luckly I ran to the bathroom and both my friends saw my looking weird and I washed my face and went downstrias and went home&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-5075632?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5075632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5075632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5075632' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-5075420</id><published>2001-08-13T22:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-13T22:35:58.806-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today I was running while my friend rolerbladded, I was just running on the main street of Forest for two seconds when a red Neon drove by and repeatingly yelled out my name.  I thought which one of my brothers friends owns a red Neon (see my brothers friends just love teasing me).  The only person I could think of was Danny Greenwood.  About five minutes later on a different road, they drove by again, but this time slow.  I got a very good look and it was Danny, later that day when I saw my brother, he asked my what I did that morning.  I told him the story.  he confessd that it was him and he was hidding in the back so that he could ask me questions.   brothers?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-5075420?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5075420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5075420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5075420' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-5029207</id><published>2001-08-11T01:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-11T01:49:49.300-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The last week I have just spend it with my two best friends up north in a tinny log cabin, on Manitoulin Island.   We tried to leave early on Sunday morning, but we didn't.(I wouldn't call that a very good start)  We made it to the fariy on Tobenmory.  My friends, my two little cusins and my mom and dad were walking around trying to waste time.  We say some dumb boys about my age trying to look cool while they stuff a case of 24 bottles of beer into a backpack which was not meant for carrying beer around.  All of us had been on the fairly at least once, so that made it not a very big event.  We got to the cabin around 6:00 at night.  Now, this cabin is apart of a group of cabins called "Lake Wolsely Cabins" and of corse if is off of Lake Wolsely.  The cabin is mabe up of two bedrooms which just fit double beds.  An add on bedroom which also just fits a bunk bed, a bathroom which only has a sink and tolet and a kicthen with a fouton and chair on one end.  Erica Leanne and I had it all planed out, we were goning to sleep in the bunk bed add on, so we put all of our stuff in it.  We all sat on the top bunk and started to talk when a mouse came crawling around the logs.  We all screamed so increably loud.  Erica name it the Funky Bunky Mouse House and named the mouse muffy.  The was no way we were going to sleep in there that night, so all three of use slept in the fouton.  The next morning the mouse was caught in the mouse trap(the owners put it there the nihgt before)   One Monday we bacily played pool, bord games, feed chimpmonks and I caught a gradener snake.  The people who own the cabins love cats and our friends of the families.  One monday they talked use in to taking a cat home which was stray, well to an surtin exten.  Our guess is that the old owner didn't what it any more so they dropped it off on the side of the road.   That night we planed on sleeping in the Funky Bunky Mouse House, but again there was another mouse.  This time I slept on the floor and Erica and Leanne slepted on the fouton.  Tuseday we went fishing(I caught a 19 1/2" Rainbow Trout)  swiming, played pool and played board games.  We made a "spot" of ours were we always sat on the pire, and on Tuseday we just decied to wave at the seadooer which keeped on coming bye, so we did and he came and stoped to talk to use.  At this point I was trying not to kill myself laughing beauce nobody ever stops.  He askend if we wanted to go seadooing and we so no(he kind of sceard me, well yes he did scare me)  Now my friends were all excited and just thought that he was a loser.  That night again we didn't sleep in the Funky Bunky nouse House.   On Wednesday we went house back riding and lets just say that my one friends got a little too excited.  We went to Province Bay and went swiming.  We got back and ate lunch and went to our spot.  Again the seadooer came but this time with a friend.  The owner of the cabin asked for his name and it was Lindsey.  He asked use to go tobbing this time but we said no becuase we were going boating.  That night they just came to our cabin and I was kind of grossed out by then, but thank God that was teh last time we saw them.  They left only beasue we completly ignored them.  Thursday we went to Bridal Falls and it was my first time ever swimming under a water fall.  I t was so cool.  Then we went do the beach and went swimming again (all week it was soo hot)  We found a raft and were jumping off of it.  We went to come in and stop swimming when my mom said that my dad was going to jump off the docks over on the other side.  The docks are about ten feet high.  We swam over and jump off and Leanne and I ended up driving off of it.  We left and got back to the cabin.  We had supper and went fishing.  I caught too fish, so all together I cuahgt four fish.  We got back to the cabin and I was the only one who slept in the Funky Bunky Mouse House.  I didn't see a mouse or anything.  Today we left to catch the fairy.  I brought my new cat too.  We got to the fairy and there was no room left.  We had to wait another 4hours for the next fairy.  Today we waited for 6hours all together.  I had my first banana split and made a weird rock tower.  We got on the fairy and came home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-5029207?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5029207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5029207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5029207' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-5028690</id><published>2001-08-11T01:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-11T01:12:32.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel so bad I haven't blogged in ages!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-5028690?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5028690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/5028690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5028690' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4667544</id><published>2001-07-22T10:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-22T10:10:09.743-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today my mom is making me do the torch run for the Canadian Summer Games throught the town of Forest.  I am running with my best friend, well she is rollerballeding and I'm running.  It is about a 3-4km run.  I don't know how many people are going to be there I just hope it is more than just us two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4667544?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4667544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4667544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4667544' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4630040</id><published>2001-07-19T21:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-19T21:57:42.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I went to a birthday party and going away party for a girl how I have knew since SK.  We have never been really good friends just little more than acquaitance.  Three of my friends and I bought her a sweater my Campus Crew and it each costed us 15.81 and it is really nice.  However this girl went to my highschool but never hung out in the same group.  My one best friend was acting like she wouldn't even go and talk to then, like she was "too cool".  I started to talk and get to know the people.  It was borning the first couple of hours but after supper it was really good.  Everyone but three people went for a walk down town Forest.  We got ice cream and walked back to the girls house.  I realised that she and all of her frineds are great people and I would love to hang out with them more.  The only reason I don't hang out with them is beacuse of society. I hate society and what it expects you to do and live the way they say, but I don't llike everyone esle does beacuse I will always talk the the "uncool" people unlike some of my friends because I have been the "uncool" and I know what it is like.  As a child I still remember one guy how was my borthers friend and he was so nice to me and still is and I hope that people will remeber me as the "nice one" not the person who was "too cool"  to take a second of the day to say hi to someone, no matter how they are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4630040?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4630040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4630040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4630040' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4570846</id><published>2001-07-16T20:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-16T20:23:42.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have two best friends now, I have been best friends with the one from grade 8 and we go to the same school. (just incase she reads and see I didn't menchin her)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4570846?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4570846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4570846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4570846' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4570515</id><published>2001-07-16T20:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-16T20:00:36.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After writting my last blog I have relised something.  You have times in your life when things change so fast that you can't slow down and that a breath, that is what has happened to me in the last year, which was my first year in highschool.  In elementry shcool it was always me and my best friend.  We have been best friends since JK.  We were never the "most popular" kids in our grade and that didn't bother us at all.  We recived the reiligion and acidenic awards my times throughout our school years and we were on all the sports teams.  We were always very well like of the teachers, doing special things for them whenever they needed.  We were all around good stundents.  I've only "gone out" with one boy, when we where in grade 5.  My best friend has very gone out with a guy.  We are not very "experince" with guys.  Don't get me wrong, we have had the best guys friends you could ever ask for just never one to go out with.  This year we went to different schools and have stayed as close as we have ever been.  I go to high school and not to brag, but I found out that guys think "I'm hot".  My sister always told me that this would happend I just never believed her.  The girl who was the most popular is not any more.  People change in highschool, they say.  They come out of their shell and that is very ture.  The quiet people I knew are doing some crazy things I never expeted them to do.  My old guy friends take to me differently.  I even caugh one flirtting with me, which was felt very weird.  I would say that the year has improved.  I have stayed friends with the people who I wanted to, and meet some very great people, that is why I needed change, but now that summer has came I can finally catched my breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4570515?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4570515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4570515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4570515' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4570123</id><published>2001-07-16T19:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-16T19:39:14.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went to the Grand Bend Flea Market, and I remeber as a child everyone saying about how cool the fles market is.  I think it was my third time ever going to the market and it is one of the most boring places for shopping I have ever been.  The places which I saw that were a good plave to shop were the inseces and Sea Jewels, all of the other place were just dumpy.  Looking back on this I have relize a lot of things and some people how I thought was or were cool aren't.  When you grow up things change and your persectives change on very many things and people.  Places which were great are not so great know that I have seen so much better. &lt;br /&gt; The people who I wanted to be, well I don't want to be them any more and come to think of it the only person in the world which I would ever in my mind want to be is my older sister.  She is smart, pretty, athletic, and my sister.  I guess that is why I look up to her.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4570123?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4570123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4570123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4570123' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4513175</id><published>2001-07-12T22:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-12T22:33:40.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today when I was work we tried to kill time by playing the place game(where someone says a name of a place the and next person has to think of another name but which start with the first place last letter. eg.  Calgary, Yukon, Nova Soctia, Algeria........)  Jeremy(the guy who I grow up with) and I had to  time of a y place and I thought of Yorkshire.  Deb the person how I was thining with said that it sounds like a really place so I said it.  In the row next to use was Jeremy and his mom, quitly his mom said to Jeremy that she thinks that there is a ral place called that, but Jeremy told her to be quiet and he said I lost.  So I get home for work and I ask my mom if there is a real place called Yorkshire and she said that, Yorkshire is where my reliatives on her said came from.  So tomorrow I going to work and claming &lt;b&gt;victory&lt;/b&gt; over Jeremy!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4513175?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4513175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4513175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4513175' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4490874</id><published>2001-07-11T18:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-11T18:06:11.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I asked my parents if I could go to the movies, so I could see my friends at least once this summer and I really wanted to go, so I asked my mother.  My mom was just about to say yes, but then she brings up the fact that she was already in Sarina once today for my borther, so I go and ask my dad.  My dad is like, same here, even thought he did got to Sarnia today he just went to our neighbour and helped them out a little.  Yes I was mad thatI can't go, but the thing which bothers me the most is that my parents knew that by letting me go to St. Chris will mean that I will want to go into Sarina and see my friends, so they should of known that it was going to happen sometime or another, and if I didn't have that dumb job I could of went to my friends house and my parents would of only had to make one trip!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4490874?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4490874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4490874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4490874' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4490796</id><published>2001-07-11T18:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-11T18:00:34.933-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have a summer job, but the thing is, I didn't what the job and hear is the story of how I got the job.  One weekend, I thinking a Sunday in June, I had my two best friends over and a lady calls from the orchard and is talking to my dad.  I over heard the conversation and realized that he was talking to the lady about me having a summer job. I didn't want to panic and get mad because my friends were over and it is rude, so I tried not to care.  My dad told me that I only had to sell fruit and that is not a bad job so I thought I could leave with it. &lt;br /&gt;So far in my job I have thined apples and hoed (a stick with a blade at the end to remove unwanted things near plants).  One Monday I hoed for 8 hours stairt and since I was bending over all the time I got burnt and just a strip along my lower back!  Then on Tuesday I got burnt again but this time on my neck and the thing is that I was wearing sun screan ever were but there!   &lt;br /&gt;I only good thing is that I work with a old friend for elementry school, but sometimes he is a jerk and will listen to his music for 2 hours.&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for the stand to be open, but it is not opening for two weeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4490796?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4490796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4490796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4490796' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4490552</id><published>2001-07-11T17:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-07-11T17:46:03.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So last night I was trying to get into my punlishing page for blogger but it said that I wasn't registered in blogger.  So of course I was getting really mad and I decied to leave and not try.  This morning when I was showering I was thinking about it and I relized that I was typing in the wrong password...and i felt like the biggest retard in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4490552?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4490552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4490552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_07_01_archive.html#4490552' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4213273</id><published>2001-06-23T23:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-06-23T23:14:02.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I when to my cousins wedding today in Grend Bend/Park Hill.  This wedding is the first wedding I have been invited to the dinner on my dad's side in my live, so it was cool but I wasn't pumped.  I'm really never "pumped" for any "family events" not because my family is "weird" or "uncool" it is just that I am the youngest girl out of all of my 40 some cousins and the closest girl would have to be my sister, (&lt;b&gt;too bad she didn't come!&lt;/b&gt;) who is 19 and the closest boy is my brother, who is 17.  SO I get to the wedding and my oldest borther who is 20 brings his girlfriend, who is 19.  We go to church and the regural stuff.  Of course I'm bording stuff during the whole thing and trying not to move too much while people are talking.  We get to the hall and I start to really talk to my borthers girlfriend. (I had never really talked to her in my life, only because I think my brother hates me so I just stay away from him as much as posible.)  We sit down for supper and my cousin's girlfriend comes and sit dwon beside me.(I'm guessing her to be in her eary 20's)  So I'm being quite because I think that anyone who is 20 would never care about what a girl who is 15 thinks about anything.  By the end of the supper I'm talking away not even relising if they find me dumb or stupid and I kust keep on talking.  They are both very nice people and I had on of the best "family events" in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4213273?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4213273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4213273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_archive.html#4213273' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4213126</id><published>2001-06-23T22:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-06-23T22:59:48.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today I go to this track meet in Sarnia, and a guy who I kind of hang around with at school was there.  He was talking about how all my and his friends got together last night and went out for supper and then went back to a girls house.   I was just kind of like, okay when did this happen, all confused and stuff, so I asked him about it.  He said that I was invited and he didn't know why I wasn't there.  I was thinking to myself that it might of been the fact that I didn't write an exam on Friday, but still someone could of called me and told me.  ERG!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4213126?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4213126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4213126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_archive.html#4213126' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4191093</id><published>2001-06-22T10:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-06-22T10:42:11.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today I don't have an exam, because I have gym, and this morning when I was trying to sleep in, but of coures I was wroken up at least three times between 6:30 and 7:30.  I feel alseep again and finialy woke up at 9:45.  I came down stairs hoping that I wouldn't have to do any chores, but of coures there is a list.  It reads;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dear Lydia&lt;br /&gt;-collect all garbage and take it out to the shop&lt;br /&gt;-clean kitchen&lt;br /&gt;-takes empty jars downstairs&lt;br /&gt;   -jars on counter&lt;br /&gt;   -jars in box in green room&lt;br /&gt;-take fishing pole container and bag to the basement&lt;br /&gt;-while watching TV sort the basket of clothes in the laundry room&lt;/i&gt;(to bad that my TV doesn't work!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;-clean your room&lt;br /&gt;Love Mom&lt;br /&gt;I will be home by 3:30&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you see that I have to run today at 6:00 in Sarnia and I have to get first to move on, but I haven't practiced running in two weeks so I don't even know why I'm going because it is going to be torture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4191093?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4191093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4191093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_archive.html#4191093' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4070682</id><published>2001-06-14T15:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-06-14T15:42:30.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday in gym class a girl was running and her frined throught the ball at her.  She didn't see it and feel start on the foor.  Everyone brusted out laughing. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4070682?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4070682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4070682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_archive.html#4070682' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-4070653</id><published>2001-06-14T15:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-06-14T15:40:53.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So the other day I was one the bus and this guy took off his shoes.  An older girl came and thorught one of the shoes to the front of the bus.  She felt bad so she walked up and throught shoe back at the guy, but he went to block the shoe from hitting his head and it went out the window!  And the thing was that it wasn't the first time it had happened to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-4070653?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4070653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/4070653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_archive.html#4070653' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3969021</id><published>2001-06-07T15:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-06-07T15:41:48.730-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So weekend was OFASS and my relay team got 4th but I didn't do so well in the 3000m.   I got 11th, but have fun. We went and ate at this Italin resturant.  It was okay but the meatballs tasted like dog food.  I eat everything but the meatballs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3969021?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3969021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3969021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_06_01_archive.html#3969021' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3817986</id><published>2001-05-27T14:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-27T14:41:20.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>On Friday and Saturday it was OFSAA Regionals and I was in 4 events.  The 1500m, 800m, 3000m and 4x100m relay.  In the 1500m I got 10th but I made a PB, 5:12.  Then in the 4x1 my team got 4th place so we are going to OFSAA.  In the 3000m I got 3rd and made a new PB.  My old PB was 11:44 and my new on is 11:10. In the 800m I got 12th and was 10 seconds behide my time from last week.   So I going to OFSAA in 2 events.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3817986?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3817986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3817986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3817986' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3817925</id><published>2001-05-27T14:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-27T14:36:15.770-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I went put-put golfing.  We made teams, Chris and Aly were on one team and Robbie and I were on the other.  The first hole I got the maxium storks and I didn't even get it in the hole.  After the first hole Robbie and I were 8 stroks behide.  Robbie and I tite it up after 9 holes.  on the 11th hole agian I was over maxium stroke but this time I got it in on the 6th stroke.  We got to the 15th hole and it is a tunnel thing and Chris hit is out of bounds.  By the end of the game Robbie and I won by 3 stroks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3817925?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3817925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3817925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3817925' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3817767</id><published>2001-05-27T14:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-27T14:21:47.473-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So last Tuesday (may 15) Robbie and I went to see Sherk.  It is the funnest movie.  We walked in the theater to find all kinds of younger kids with there parents watching the movie, but as the movie went on I heard so many jokes which I would not off understood  like 2 years ago and maybe last year.  During the movie Robbie heard people saying his name.  Around the end on the movie we  saw that it was his friends from across the theater.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3817767?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3817767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3817767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3817767' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3716577</id><published>2001-05-20T15:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-20T15:15:41.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'> Yesterday, Erica, Leanne, Laura and I went to Grand Bend to look for bathing suits.  We were around the antic store when the traffic jam started.  It took us an extra half an hour to get it the "heart" of Grand Bend.  &lt;br /&gt; We got to the strip and Erica's mom said that we will meet her in 3 hours.   My friends and I went to the first bathing suit shop we saw and spent about a half an hour in there.  We found some nice bathing suits, but we decied that we shouldn't spend all on our time in one store.&lt;br /&gt;  We saw the Energi Radio FUN BUG, and Erica (who is obsessed with that radio station) started to fip out, so we had to stop and she had to get some stickers.  She was so happy, she was on a very big high.&lt;br /&gt;  We also did the Pepsi challenge.  Leanne and I were the only two who got it right, and I don't even really like Coke or Pepsi.  After you do the challenge you get a Pepsi card and on the back on the card siad what you win.  Everyone but me won three lolly pops.  I won a Quiksnap camera.  &lt;br /&gt;  We came to Sea Jellers and everyone got a toeing.  &lt;br /&gt;  With like 15 minutes left I went to the first store that we went to and got the bathing suit which I wanted to get.  Before we went home we stoped at Denny's. This girl who played on my ringette team works there.  She got all excieted and was like "Lydia Lydia I have seen you in so long."  I was thinking, why are you so excieted I see you all the time. meh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3716577?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3716577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3716577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3716577' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3630815</id><published>2001-05-14T21:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-14T21:12:30.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today after school my gym teacher says that she had decied that I'm on the midget girls volley ball team becuse I have improve a lot.  The thing is, is that the season has been over for like two months.  I'm even getting a shirt, I don't understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3630815?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3630815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3630815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3630815' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3630779</id><published>2001-05-14T21:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-14T21:10:13.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I went to Washington, and it was crazy!  I was suppose to leave with every one else on Wednesday morning, but I had LSSAA, so my dad.  I got there and I went to jump on the bed, but I slipped on my bookbag and cut my leg on the couner of a wall.  There next day we went to this place were people dressed up like their were in the 1800's. The next day we went to and play at this old folks home.  Most of the people were all scarey.  We left and my bus was backing up and hit something.  I went fling into the door handle on the bathroom door.  Now I have a huge bruise on my hip/bum.  That night we went on a ship and had a ULTIMATE DANCE PARTY!  After we went to a ghetto hotel,  It was so scarey.  That day a person was shot and killed and the McDonald's down the road.  So we spent the night and left that hotel the next morning.  That day I saw the Washington Monument, the White Houe and the Lincon Monoural.  I went to a ballet of Romeo and Julette.  It was pretty good.  On the way home I went with Kara and we went on the Senoir bus.  Over all if was fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3630779?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3630779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3630779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3630779' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3506509</id><published>2001-05-05T10:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-05-05T10:59:23.316-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I was at a tack meet in Windsor (Kenady Relays).  So our coach had told us that we would be home at 11:30 or 12:30.  We were all ready behind schedule and the bus driver wouldn't let us eat on the bus, therefore we got home an hour later then expected.&lt;br /&gt;The worst part is that I wroke up at 7 today and realizing that I only got 5 hours of sleep I went back to bed.  Then 3 hours later I wroke up agian.  I'm just so tired!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3506509?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3506509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3506509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_05_01_archive.html#3506509' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3438510</id><published>2001-04-30T18:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-04-30T18:23:14.453-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today in religion class, we were taking a note from off the board and the guy who sit beside me says, "Do you noitce how everything we do here has something to do with God."  I looked over at him and said, "Sean it is RELIGION class, religion is about God."  He looked at me and said, (trying to sound like he already knew that) "I know."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3438510?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3438510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3438510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_04_01_archive.html#3438510' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3423232</id><published>2001-04-29T18:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-04-29T18:41:20.170-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So last night I went out bowling.....again.  You think I should be good know but I'm not. My first game I got 6 gutter balls in a row.  My final score was 69.  At the second game my score was 80, but I did improve I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3423232?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3423232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3423232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_04_01_archive.html#3423232' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3410937</id><published>2001-04-28T17:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-04-28T17:55:46.806-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was in a track meet at St. Pat's.  I was suppose to do 4 events(1500m, high jump, 4x100m and 4x800m).  So first event was the 1500m, I started of in 3rd place, but by the 3rd lap this girl from London passed me.  I ended up in fourth place.  After that race was over I decied that I didn't need to do a very long cool down.....I ended not even doing one.  Everything was delayed, so I ran the 4x100m and hour after the oringal time.  I ran last....The team which was in third last was was 10m ahead.  I passed her and finished 5m ahead of her and my team ended up in 6th.  I didn't do high jump(I don't like it very much).  The last event of the day was 4x800m.  Again I ran last.  I was passed the baton and a girl from behind sprinted and passed me.  By the last 100m of the race I was almost able to past her, so I decieded to sprint....When I ran by her a heard her say HOLY SHIT! and it wasn't just quiet, it was extremly loud.  My team ended up in 4th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3410937?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3410937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3410937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_04_01_archive.html#3410937' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3382335</id><published>2001-04-26T15:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-04-26T15:54:47.103-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was told to call this guy, but my older sis wouldn't let me(she made these rules up which I HAVE TO OBEY and I'm not allowed to call until he calls me)...  So I get to school and everything was fine until bowling...  This guy who I bowl with started to bug me about not calling....  So now I still not allowed to call him.  ERG! &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3382335?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3382335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3382335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_04_01_archive.html#3382335' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3382227</id><published>2001-04-26T15:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-04-26T15:48:24.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today my gym class went bowling.... We played 10 pin..... My score was 54, and a good score would be 150(half the amount of points which is posible).....Everyone else in my group got at least 78.....So I completely made a foul of myself....I was all okay thought because the group beside me (which were grade ten boys) only score 10 points more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3382227?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3382227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3382227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_04_01_archive.html#3382227' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3014291.post-3371252</id><published>2001-04-25T21:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-04-25T22:14:17.173-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today is my birthday, and at my school we watch our anouncements on T.V.  My bestfriend and my sis decided to put a picture on it for my birthday.  I was expecting to see a really bad picture of me from a couple weeks ago, but when my picture came on it was of me when I was 17months old.....It wasn't that bad, but I also had a black eye(my dad was trying to teach me how to play baseball, but when I went to swing at the ball I took a step and got a black eye).  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3014291-3371252?l=lydiawulms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3371252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3014291/posts/default/3371252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lydiawulms.blogspot.com/2001_04_01_archive.html#3371252' title=''/><author><name>Lydia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02218906716069962274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
