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<!--Generated by Squarespace Site Server v5.5.4 (http://www.squarespace.com/) on Sun, 05 Jul 2009 22:08:30 GMT--><rss xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" version="2.0"><channel><title>Lucy Wightman</title><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/</link><description></description><copyright></copyright><language>en-US</language><generator>Squarespace Site Server v5.5.4 (http://www.squarespace.com/)</generator><item><title>July Mystery Picture</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Sun, 05 Jul 2009 11:40:08 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2009/7/5/july-mystery-picture.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:4527851</guid><description><![CDATA[<p>After a while this post will move to the <a title="http://www.lucywightman.com/mystery-mabobs/" href="http://www.lucywightman.com/mystery-mabobs/">mysterymabobs page</a>, but for now, please tell us what this is&#8230;</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.lucywightman.com/storage/IMG_7879.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1246794116815" alt="" /></span></span></p>
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-4527851.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Torri's iLike Site</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Sun, 05 Jul 2009 00:19:00 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2009/7/4/torris-ilike-site.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2794618</guid><description><![CDATA[<div><div id="c_p018BO26yLGG6u_7viuZomKWg=="><div class="ilike_content"> <ul class="song_list_preview" style="list-style:none;"> <li style="overflow:hidden;" class="preview_border"><a class="song_play_btn" title="Do It Like a Hindu" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Torri/track/Do+It+Like+a+Hindu">Do It Like a Hindu</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Torri/Torri">Torri</a></li> </ul> </div> </div><script src='http://www.ilike.com/api/p?c=1&amp;k=p018BO26yLGG6u_7viuZomKWg%3D%3D'></script><div id="ilike_p018BO26yLGG6u_7viuZomKWg=="><div style="border-top:1px solid #dddddd;padding-top:5px;font-size:smaller;"><a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Torri" target="_blank">Torri</a> on iLike - <a href="http://www.ilike.com/download" target="_blank">Get updates inside iTunes</a></div></div></div>
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-2794618.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>June Mystery Picture That is not THAT Mysterious</title><category>Lyme disease</category><category>deer tick</category><category>deer tick bite</category><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 29 Jun 2009 12:12:39 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2009/6/29/june-mystery-picture-that-is-not-that-mysterious.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:4469498</guid><description><![CDATA[<p><span class="full-image-inline ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.lucywightman.com/storage/0629090742.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1246277642101" alt="" /></span></span></p>
<p>see the<em> <a class="offsite-link-inline" href="http://lucywightman.squarespace.com/what-i-learned-today/">new section</a> </em>for the answer&#8230; and this post will move to <a href="http://www.lucywightman.com/mystery-mabobs/">mysterymabobs</a></p>
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-4469498.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Something More Than That</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 07 Apr 2009 01:41:43 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2009/4/6/something-more-than-that.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:3583331</guid><description><![CDATA[<p><span class="full-image-float-left ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.lucywightman.com/storage/winkle/pwbayfrm.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1239068613599" alt="" /></span></span>Sewn in and I am not finding the seams here in the fog. As if my head didn&rsquo;t keep itself company enough, now visual options are outside this big ball of gray fuzz. There must be a word that means more than lonely, something more chronic and not solved by company.<br /><br />Winkle is an expression, an emphasis in motion. A seizure was a response to angry, deep yelling and more departures, this after finding long refuge under the couch. Extreme reactions are called for when I am not paying attention well. His brain freezing yap is for what he needs for his little dog self. But for this, the communication must call to a halt everything familiar and be bigger than any explanation point.<br /><br />Winkle is freeing up, bouncing along on little red poodle legs, sniffing salty tree stumps or planks brought in by stormy days.. Over the left wither I get a rhythmic glance in step with his trot. Winkle&rsquo;s watery brown eyes beam in on my right hand pocket, the customary request for &ldquo;ball-in-pocket&rdquo; assurance.<br /><br />Amidst audible sniffs and three exploratory paws at the sandy seaweed, Winkle stands upright, neck braced, his nose flaring at the flaps. The ears rise to form a triangular, squared shape of anticipation and glee until he meets with some surety his target of distraction. It is a tall man dressed all in navy blue or black, his hands stiffened into his pockets at the top of the sand, taking several steps like some robot. Winkle assesses the rock mass between him and the man, continuing to sniff, interrupting to look up with a contained excitement and anticipatory optimism.<br /><br />The man moves closer, realizing I will not lead Winkle out of safety by going into the pit of heaping rocks or towards this man. Winkle&rsquo;s tail beats the air, his dog heart clear and in the moment. There is no agenda or wish other than to be recognized, and/or patted. The man and I walk side by side for a time while Winkle serpentines, sniffing, glancing, and pretending there is nothing different in this moment of now.<br /><br />Winkle studies me while he moves forward. Maybe he wants to know what I want, or to be sure of things. Eventually the man turns, walking back towards his standing place. Winkle braces with interest, looking at him, then surveying me, like slow-motion tennis, all the while continuing ground level investigations.<br /><br />Watching Winkle wish over his curly shoulder while trotting forward is so uncomplicated. Burdens have landed on such a willing, delicate back that, over time, it could become customary, chronic, or something more than that.</p>
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-3583331.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>It is not Valentine's Day!</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 18 Dec 2008 02:53:20 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2008/12/18/it-is-not-valentines-day.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2715078</guid><description><![CDATA[<p>I am on the roadside trying to stealthily snap a few shots of my Christmas lights when the mood is interrupted by flashing blues.&nbsp; &#8220;I hope you aren&#8217;t using the phone and it isn&#8217;t Valentine&#8217;s Day anyway.&#8221;</p>
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<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img style="width: 400px;" src="http://www.lucywightman.com/storage/DSC01322.JPG?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1229694815308" alt="" /></span></span></p>
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-2715078.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Collaborative Medicine and My Round Little Friend</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 13 Dec 2008 01:12:24 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2008/12/13/collaborative-medicine-and-my-round-little-friend.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2689529</guid><description><![CDATA[Think twice about everything including that pathetic &#8220;probe&#8221; that these poor radiology techs have to slip a tall mouse condom on, and any female pain originating in any organ exclusive only to females.
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-2689529.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Incomplete Sentences - A Psychological "Test"</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 11 Dec 2008 01:10:58 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2008/12/11/incomplete-sentences-a-psychological-test.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2681085</guid><description><![CDATA[<p><span style="font-size: 120%;">My Navy Blue Sweats</span></p>
<p><span><strong>I get sad when </strong>my navy blue sweats are just over the line, too dirty to wear, even privately<br /></span></p>
<p><span><strong>I hesitate when </strong>the casual dry Swiffer run yields a cushion of dark lint and long blond hairs<br /></span></p>
<p><strong></strong></p>
<p><strong>It hurts when</strong> my feet crack and I peel them in my sleep</p>
<p><strong>I feel irritated by </strong>how I make the bathwater too hot every damn time</p>
<p><strong>The most hopeless time is when </strong>I correct the above-mentioned bathwater and it is now cold</p>
<p><strong>I am honestly surprised by </strong>how much hair is leaving this head during menopausal shedding</p>
<p><strong>Nothing puts my mind in a tailspin more than </strong>the absence of an equivalent good will organization like &#8220;Locks of Love&#8221; for natural shedders</p>
<p><strong>I feel most at home when </strong>my navy blue sweats are on and warm, and there is that suprising, intermittent gusty wind that gives me the chance to watch how the tiolet water moves by itself</p>
<p><strong>My favorite pastime is </strong>someday not having so much time for pastimes</p>
<p><strong>I get a teeny bit angry when </strong>I can&#8217;t sleep</p>
<p><strong>It makes me a little mad when </strong>I think about not sleeping</p>
<p><strong>I am steaming up about </strong>thinking about how I think about not sleeping</p>
<p><strong>If there is one thing enrages me it&#8217;s </strong>the teeny bit of anger about not sleeping</p>
<p><strong>If I had three wishes </strong>I would only wish for three things I can&#8217;t have anyway</p>
<p><strong>If I was stuck on a deserted island the person I would most want with me would be </strong>someone who could brainstorm about who I would want and how to choose without making anyone feel bad or gypping myself</p>
<p><strong>My favorite food is </strong>wine</p>
<p><strong>My least favorite food is </strong>whatever lands a sneak strand of my menopausal hair</p>
<p><strong>I love </strong>velcro, bungies (genuine brand, round not flat), and Winkle</p>
<p><strong>I hate&nbsp; </strong>that my navy blue sweats are so worn and comfy and are just too dirty to wear right now and that now I feel bad because of the last question and I can see how I made poor, impulsive, insensitive choices and did not have enough time to list all of the people I love</p>
<p><strong>It&#8217;s a teeny bit embarassing when </strong>I lather up my feet with greasy lotion after a lukewarm bath and I forget my socks, I walk to get them, lather up again, put my socks on, and clean the floors for two hours because truth be told I actually forgot where I keep my socks</p>
<p><strong>The best thing about dirty laundry is </strong>I can crumple it up into a heap and then knowing that soon I will have my navy blues again</p>
<p><strong>The most embarassing thing is when </strong>I forget about how sad I was at one time and put the navy blue sweat pants on anyway and go out</p>
<p><strong>I feel stupid knowing </strong>how scalding hot water makes my feet crack</p>
<p><strong>I annoy myself when </strong>I think right now how I set up for later and when later is here I just set up again.</p>
<p><strong><br /></strong></p>
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-2681085.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Pedestrian Rights in Hull</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 14:43:55 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2008/11/7/pedestrian-rights-in-hull.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2534674</guid><description><![CDATA[Pedestrian Rights in Hull<br /><br />Here in Hull, pedestrians cross, or lollygag, from wherever to wherever, often with nothing short of invincible entitlement.&nbsp; Crossers get positive feedback for their pedestrian wiles from resident drivers (but not visitors so much) who stop, smiling and waving. <br /><br />That&rsquo;s so nice, I thought, when I first moved here.&nbsp;
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-2534674.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Golf, Demons and Bloggers</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 31 Oct 2008 13:08:12 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2008/10/31/golf-demons-and-bloggers.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2492884</guid><description><![CDATA[How will I describe the excuses and make the dead blog syndrome ancient history?  What if I am lonely in blogland?  What if everyone is mad or bored?  What if the blogs people have cheated on this blog with are better? What do I want a blog for anyway?
]]></description><wfw:commentRss>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/rss-comments-entry-2492884.xml</wfw:commentRss></item><item><title>Excused Absences</title><dc:creator>Lucy Wightman</dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 14 Aug 2008 19:47:00 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.lucywightman.com/lucy-wightman-diary/2008/8/14/excused-absences.html</link><guid isPermaLink="false">42209:1306874:2098423</guid><description><![CDATA[why did the doctor excuse her from the absences? &nbsp;<br /><br />why can&rsquo;t I breathe&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;<br />why am I still breathing? &nbsp;
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