tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34659692749021524462024-03-12T23:06:24.670-07:00My other blogBookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-65351628386837401862012-01-21T19:45:00.000-08:002012-01-21T19:49:08.191-08:00Microwave lasted 23 years.My Panasonic microwave, model NN-6207, manufactured in December 1987, just died. I think I bought it in 1988. I had it for at least 23 years. The magnatron must have gone out, as the light, fan and turntable still worked.Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-88375302149439311892009-06-22T06:16:00.000-07:002009-06-22T06:18:42.282-07:00A successful career woman looks back on her abortions.<a href="http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2009/06/17/whats-the-connection-between-abortions-and-careers/">What's the connection between abortion and careers?</a><br />by <a href="http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/">Penelope Trunk</a>.<br />June 17th, 2009<br />+-----------------+<br /><br />I have had two abortions.<br /><br />The first one was when I was twenty-seven. I was playing professional beach volleyball. I was playing volleyball eight hours a day and I spent two hours a day at the gym. I noticed that I was getting tired more easily, but I thought it meant I needed to train harder.<br /><br />Then one weekend, a doctor friend on a visit saw me drop a plate one day, and a vase the next. I told her my hands just gave out because they were so tired.<br /><br />She said I was anemic. Then she said, “Maybe you’re pregnant.”<br /><br />“I’m not,” I said. “I have a regular period.”<br /><br />It turns out, though, that you can have a regular period and still be pregnant.<br /><br />And I was. Fourteen weeks.<br /><br />My friend said, “Schedule the abortion now. You’re already late for it.”<br /><br />I didn’t do anything. I was in shock. My boyfriend was in shock. Neither of us had ever had a pregnancy. I couldn’t believe the whole process actually worked, to be honest.<br /><br />I told my mom I was pregnant. She said, “Get an abortion.”<br /><br />I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t really thinking I had any choices. I didn’t have a job that could support a child. And I wasn’t sure if I was planning to marry my boyfriend, although we were living together. I knew that I had big ideas for my life and I hadn’t figured things out yet.<br /><br />My mom got militant. “You’ll destroy your career possibilities.”<br /><br />She riffed on this theme for a week, calling me every night. Her passion is understandable. My mom took a job when I was young because she hated being home with kids. She endured interview questions like, “Does your husband want you away from home working?” She was one of the first women to become an executive at her Fortune 500 company. She blazed trails so I could have career goals that required an abortion to preserve.<br /><br />Here’s what else happened: Other women called. It turned out that many, many women I knew had had an abortion. This is not something women talk about. I mean, I had no idea how ubiquitous the procedure was, at least in my big-city, liberal, Jewish world.<br /><br />Each of those women told me that I should get an abortion so that I could keep my options open. “You’re a smart girl. You can do anything with your life right now. Don’t ruin it.”<br /><br />My boyfriend was laying low. He was no slouch when it came to pro-choice politics and he knew it was, ultimately, my decision.<br /><br />But the minute I said I would get an abortion, he was driving me to Planned Parenthood.<br /><br />You had to go once to set up the appointment, and then go back.<br /><br />When I went back, I had a panic attack. I was on the table, in a hospital gown, screaming.<br /><br />The nurse asked me if I was a religious Christian.<br /><br />The boyfriend asked me if I was aware that my abortion would be basically illegal in seven more days.<br /><br />I couldn’t stop screaming. I was too scared. I felt absolutely sick that I was going to kill a baby. And, now that I know more about being a mother, I understand that hormones had already kicked in to make me want to keep the baby. We left. No abortion.<br /><br />My boyfriend started panicking by suddenly staying really late at work and going out with friends a lot. I stopped playing volleyball because I got tired so quickly.<br /><br />People kept calling me: They said, “Think about how you’ll support the child. Think about what you’ll do if your boyfriend leaves you. You’re all alone in LA with no family. How will you take care of yourself?”<br /><br />People gave me advice: Get a job. Once you have established yourself in a career, you’ll feel much better about having kids. Figure out where you fit in the world. Get a job, then get married, and then have kids.<br /><br />I scheduled another abortion. But it was past the time when Planned Parenthood will do an abortion. Now it was a very expensive one at a clinic that seemed to cater to women coming from Christian countries in South America. I knew that if I did not go through with it this time, no one would do the abortion. I was too far along.<br /><br />So I did it.<br /><br />I went to sleep with a baby and woke up without one. Groggy. Unsure about everything. Everything in the whole world.<br /><br />People think abortion is such an easy choice–they say, “Don’t use abortion as birth control.” Any woman who has had one will tell you how that is such crazy talk. Because an abortion is terrible. You never stop thinking about the baby you killed. You never stop thinking about the guy you were with when you killed the baby you made with him. You never stop wondering.<br /><br />So the second time I got pregnant, I thought of killing myself. My career was soaring. I was 30 and I felt like I had everything going for me – great job, great boyfriend, and finally, for the first time ever, I had enough money to support myself. I hated that I put myself in the position of either losing all that or killing a baby.<br /><br />I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant. I knew what they’d say.<br /><br />So I completely checked out emotionally. I scheduled the abortion like I was on autopilot. I told my boyfriend at the last minute and told him not to come with me.<br /><br />He said forget it. He’s coming with me.<br /><br />I remember staring at the wall. Telling myself to stop thinking of anything.<br /><br />The doctor asked me, “Do you understand what’s going to happen?”<br /><br />I said yes. That’s all I remember.<br /><br />I got two abortions to preserve my career. To keep my options open. To keep my aspirations within reach.<br /><br />I bought into the idea that kids undermine your ability to build an amazing career.<br /><br />And here I am, with the amazing career. <br /><br />But also, here I am with two kids. So I know a bit about having kids and a career. And I want to tell you something: You don’t need to get an abortion to have a big career. Women who want big careers want them because something deep inside you drives you to change the world, lead a revolution, break new barriers.<br /><br />It doesn’t matter whether you have kids now or later, because they will always make your career more difficult. There is no time in your life when you are so stable in your work that kids won’t create an earthquake underneath that confidence.<br /><br />I think about the men I was with when I had the abortions. They were not bad men. One is my ex-husband. So much of life is a gamble, and I think I might have had as good a chance of staying together with the first guy as I did with my ex-husband. And I am not sure that my life would have turned out worse if I had had kids early. I am not sure it would have turned out better. I’m not even sure it would have been that different.<br /><br />You never know, not really. There is little certainty. But there are some certain truths: It’s very hard to have an abortion. And, there is not a perfect time to have kids.<br /><br />And I wonder, are there other women out there who had abortions in the name of their career and their potential? What do those women think now?Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-19516967693814869042009-03-12T15:52:00.000-07:002009-03-12T15:53:14.214-07:00Why Mormons build temples. New church video.<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x_-TQivCx8">Why Mormons build temples</a>. New video from the church.Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-62203848859145111562008-10-12T20:36:00.001-07:002008-10-12T20:39:43.271-07:00Yes, on California's Proposition 8. November 2008.<object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="200px" height="343px" id="InsertWidget_9cceafb8-fe34-4880-8e5c-679fccb7a506" align="middle"><param name="movie" value="http://widgetserver.com/syndication/flash/wrapper/InsertWidget.swf"/><param name="quality" value="high" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent" /><param name="menu" value="false" /><param name="flashvars" value="r=2&appId=9cceafb8-fe34-4880-8e5c-679fccb7a506" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain" /> <embed src="http://widgetserver.com/syndication/flash/wrapper/InsertWidget.swf" name="InsertWidget_9cceafb8-fe34-4880-8e5c-679fccb7a506" width="200px" height="343px" quality="high" menu="false" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="sameDomain" flashvars="r=2&appId=9cceafb8-fe34-4880-8e5c-679fccb7a506"></embed></object>Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-49031416135524860102008-07-09T09:41:00.000-07:002008-07-09T09:42:48.673-07:00Obesity: Indiana, 27.5. Colorado, 18.4No wonder I felt fat when I visited Colorado.<br /><a href="http://strangemaps.wordpress.com/2008/07/05/297-the-south-shall-snack-again/">http://strangemaps.wordpress.com/2008/07/05/297-the-south-shall-snack-again/</a>Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-91739098046819088902008-07-08T20:13:00.000-07:002008-12-11T03:12:12.652-08:00Such a deal!This isn't funny unless you're from Utah or know Utah Mormons. It appeared as an advertising supplement in the July 6, 2008 edition of the Indianapolis Star.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfv2G_99t4-lsXCYhD-pA_60yZhh3cc2isv75Zq8waZCl-9yZI_9R-t53to1cqd_vIvNHePvDQ9OS7olZo51KmGLKMrr82A4UQbzCkV83FFDHKiIIfNv34PDJFC9KamPlD_qN_MUSHPI/s1600-h/fetching-deals.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfv2G_99t4-lsXCYhD-pA_60yZhh3cc2isv75Zq8waZCl-9yZI_9R-t53to1cqd_vIvNHePvDQ9OS7olZo51KmGLKMrr82A4UQbzCkV83FFDHKiIIfNv34PDJFC9KamPlD_qN_MUSHPI/s320/fetching-deals.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220847483092939794" /></a>Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-65520714026147159482008-06-30T15:36:00.000-07:002008-12-11T03:12:12.664-08:00Seaweed soup! At ward's "Linger-Longer". Sun, Jun 29, 2008.06/29/2008. Today our ward had a "Linger Longer", which is a pot-luck dinner after the meetings. We're on the 1:00pm to 4:00pm schedule so it would not conflict with the other ward.<br /><br />I made <a href="http://sapporo.cool.ne.jp/kairyu_/hamasaka/wakame.jpg">seaweed</a> soup, using <a href="http://www.surialink.com/HANDBOOK/Genera/browns/Undaria/Undaria.htm">Ito-Wakame</a> (dried string seaweed), basmati rice, and some seasoning packets from ramen (but not the ramen noodles.)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iExc4WqhVGj6cpDG4iEb3KX0NWrtAetvdbtAw6kSZVZCeabUn92YZZm34u3TRbOtce6H15Yj5dpWNufiNSahZ_XF0G4bckwjEdp1IPyuDcAjP7mi0NjxqqxhJLCav_p3kOgtuZ78APFE/s1600-h/ito-wakame.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iExc4WqhVGj6cpDG4iEb3KX0NWrtAetvdbtAw6kSZVZCeabUn92YZZm34u3TRbOtce6H15Yj5dpWNufiNSahZ_XF0G4bckwjEdp1IPyuDcAjP7mi0NjxqqxhJLCav_p3kOgtuZ78APFE/s320/ito-wakame.jpg" border="0" alt="" align="left" vspace="10" hspace="10" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217749117161279778" /></a><br />I like it. A Korean customer turned me on to it years ago, and I've been a fan of it since. Seaweed takes on the flavor of whatever you cook it in. I usually use chicken bullion.<br /><br />I took it mainly for the gross-out factor, but many people tried it (I suppose to be nice). <br /><br />But to my surprise, more than half of the gallon of soup was gone by the end of the meal. I saw a couple people go back for seconds. One sister from Hawaii had seconds, and a brother who served a mission in Hong Kong praised it.<br /><br />I brought a little butane stove and cooked it outside during the 3rd hour so as not to create a smell in the kitchen, and so it wouldn't sit around for hours getting soggy.Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-69298433253921670602008-03-25T06:29:00.000-07:002008-03-25T06:43:19.407-07:00History of LDS church in Indiana.I have a copy of this book. If you're interested in the history of the LDS church <br />in Indiana, this is an interesting read. I originally paid $20 for, and <br />now they have cut the price in half. <br /><br />You have to place your order by mail. Information at:<br /><br />"Glory Is A-comin' Soon": A History of Mormonism in Indiana<br />by Martha Peterson Taysom<br />About Mormonism in Indiana, chronicling the growth of the denomination <br />to the present day.<br />149p. Ill. ISBN 1-891598-01-5<br />Softbound: SALE $10.00(plus 6% tax) plus postage: $2.00<br /><br /><a href="http://www.kokomo.lib.in.us/information/publications.html">http://www.kokomo.lib.in.us/information/publications.html</a>Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-26108268911155727502007-11-22T19:41:00.000-08:002007-11-22T19:44:49.407-08:00Dinosaurs and Barbies.A friend invited me over for Thanksgiving at his house. He and his wife have three kids ranging in age from 4 to 15. <br /><br />At the insistence of the 4 year old I played with her and her dinosaur toys and Barbie dolls.<br /><br />It was one of my best Thanksgivings.Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-28751460953934683942007-10-28T16:39:00.000-07:002007-10-28T16:53:48.090-07:00New Indianapolis Stake! Effective Nov 11, 2007.10/28/2007. It was announced at sacrament meeting that a new stake is being created in Indianapolis effective November 11, 2007. It will be the <strong>Indianapolis West Stake</strong>, and consist of:<br /><br /><table><tbody><tr><td> <u><b>Ward</b></u> </td><td> <u><b>Previous stake</b></u> </td></tr><br /><tr><td> Avon Ward </td><td> Indy North </td></tr><tr><td> Brownsburg Ward </td><td> Indy North </td></tr><tr><td> Greencastle Branch </td><td> Bloomington </td></tr><tr><td> Eagle Creek Ward </td><td> Indy North </td></tr><tr><td> Indianapolis 3rd Ward </td><td> Indy (South) </td></tr><tr><td> Indianapolis 4th (YSA) Branch </td><td> Indy North </td></tr><tr><td> Plainfield Ward </td><td> Indy (South)</td></tr><tr><td> White River 1st Ward </td><td> Indy North </td></tr><tr><td> White River 2nd Branch. </td><td> Indy North </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />The Indy North Stake will then consist of:<br /><br />Beech Grove Ward (Formerly of Indy Stake)<br />Carmel Ward<br />Crossroads Ward<br />Cumberland Ward<br />Fishers 1st Ward (Formerly of Muncie Stake)<br />Fishers 2nd Ward (Formerly of Muncie Stake)<br />Indianapolis 2nd Ward<br />Zionsville WardBookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-6439340364196595482007-08-05T15:36:00.000-07:002007-10-17T10:07:28.686-07:00Christian service at airport. Beth Moore's story.Here's an account by Beth Moore, who was inspired of the Lord to brush an elderly man's hair for him while he was in a wheelchair, waiting to board a plane at an airport.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.forministry.com/USTXECUSAHCECH/Mins/ChristianEd/">http://www.forministry.com/USTXECUSAHCECH/Mins/ChristianEd/</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.proclaimhisglory.org/html/lesson_with_a_hairbrush.html">http://www.proclaimhisglory.org/html/lesson_with_a_hairbrush.html</a><br /><br />This is from the 2nd link: <br /><br />Lesson with a Hairbrush<br />by Beth Moore<br /><br />Knoxville airport all waiting to board planes:<br /><br /><br />I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say that because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego...<br /><br />I tried to keep from staring but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy grey hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long. Clean, but strangely out of place on an old man.<br /><br />I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered reading somewhere that he was dead. So this man in the airport...an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere?....<br /><br />There I sat trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.<br /><br />I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh no, God please no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!"<br /><br />There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane." Then I heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair."<br /><br />The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am on him. I am going to witness to this man."<br /><br />Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair."<br /><br />I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I suppose to brush his hair without a hairbrush?"<br /><br />God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly finish you unto all good works." (2 Tim 3:7) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies.<br /><br />I knelt down in front of the man, and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"<br /><br />He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?"<br /><br />"May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"<br /><br />To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that.<br /><br />At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?" At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat.<br /><br />I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush."<br /><br />"I have one in my bag," he responded.<br /><br />I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair.<br /><br />It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but I must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. <br /><br />A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair.... Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I—for that few minutes—felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's.<br /><br />His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag, went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees, and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?"<br /><br />He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures.<br /><br />He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself what a mess I must be for my<br />bride."<br /><br />Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.<br /><br />Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.<br /><br />I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?"<br /><br />I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got to share. <br /><br />I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted because you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!<br /><br />I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way...all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.<br /><br />John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We<br />have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the<br />Father, full of grace and truth."<br /><br />Excerpt taken from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0805430938/vietveteofamer29/ref=nosim">"Further Still"</a>, by Beth Moore, B & H Publishing Group, Nashville TN. Copyright © 2004 Beth Moore.Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465969274902152446.post-86877748810187897612007-03-26T07:48:00.000-07:002007-03-26T07:50:41.732-07:00Welcome to my other blog.This blog is for my religion/church comments, aside from my book placement efforts. My other blog is "<a href="http://indybooks.blogspot.com">Flooding the Earth with the Book of Mormon.</a>"Bookslingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15077778974473538408noreply@blogger.com1