<?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-22276169</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:17:01.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Years are Up</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-116304064193275098</id><published>2006-11-08T21:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T21:50:42.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged!</title><content type='html'>5 things that are relatively unkown about me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I'm afraid of heights.  I had to be dragged across the glass floor in the sky needle in Toronto.  I crawled on my hands and knees up the stairs to the lighthouse in Bermuda. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I was a cheerleader in high school.  I was not on the popular squad, though.  I cheered for basketball and the occasional big hockey game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I played basketball in 8th grade and hated it.  I can't handle competition like that.  It's way too stressful to have a team count on me.  I do better with individual competition....and even then it can't be confrontational.  On the other hand, I kind of thrived on the high of being part of a team. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I am a terrible speller and too lazy to look up words.  Because of this I often "dumb down" my writing in order to stick to words I know how to spell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I don't know how to link to people in order to tag them.  Not only that, but I've been really out of touch with the diabetes OC... so I have no idea who has been tagged already!  Thanks for nudging me to write something, Kassie.  I do all kinds of mind blogging in the shower and while driving, I just don't usually get around to actually typing up my brilliant ideas.  I have to look up my password every time I blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-116304064193275098?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/116304064193275098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=116304064193275098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/116304064193275098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/116304064193275098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/11/tagged.html' title='Tagged!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-115557234929580382</id><published>2006-08-14T11:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T11:19:09.366-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I got a new Dex...Com that is</title><content type='html'>I had my training and start up of my new DexCom CGMS on Thursday.  I had a shaky start, but am loving it now!  It really is amazing to see just how well Symlin supresses my post-prandial spikes!  I can also see that I need to play around more with my bolusing strategies.  So far I have warded off 2-3 lows before they sunk, and have only caught 1 that the DexCom did not.  The only times I've gone up out of range have been when I've eaten carbs and skipped Symlin.  I guess those who are not on Symlin learn to pre-bolus 15-20 min prior to eating.  I'll have to work all this out.  Just having all this data is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;  It turns out that I'm (most likely...we'll see what happens when I start a new sensor) one of the "lucky" 10-15% of users who have some sort of reaction for the first 10-12 hours of a sensor.  This means that my DexCom readings did not make ANY sense for the first 1/2 day; nor were they even close to the meter readings.  They call this "noise".  The guy from Abbot said that they found there's an immune reaction that can take up to 10 hours for people to overcome (that's why the Navigator has a 10 hour start up...).  I guess when I go to start the next sesor, I'll insert it the night before I want it to go active.  I can leave in the current sensor and then just switch the transmitter from the old to the new in the am.  OR, since my nights seem to be pretty stable, I could just insert it and then start calibrations in the am and take out the old one.  I'll just play this one on however my bsls seem to be going that night.&lt;br /&gt;I have not experienced the "shower spikes" that many people complain about.  The sesors are not water proof.  They do make shower covers, but they're TegaDerm (sp??).  I have not had good luck with that kind of adhesive in the past, so I chose to skip that.  Instead, I just pop out the transmitter and carefully pat everything dry.  So far, so good.  We'll see what happens when I go swimming tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Amazingly enough, I am doing fine with the tape- no itchy spots or irritation of any kind!  It's been in since Thursday.  If that was a pump site I'd be on Benedryl by now....&lt;br /&gt;  I do feel a bit funky having 2 medical devices taped to my body. Thankfully they're both discreet.  Also, having to remember the receiver every time I move to another room is taking some getting used to.  I have been putting it in a pocket for now, or in my purse when we're out.  But, I can imagine that it'll be a bit cumbersome when jeans season hits.  Any chance that shirts with pockets on the sides will be in style this year?!&lt;br /&gt;My only disappointment so far is the meter.  I really don't like the OneTouch Ultra.  It takes WAY more blood than the BD one did (maybe that's why the BD one isn't known for its accuracy??).  The case is a little small considering that the strip vials are HUGE.  I'm guessing that the vials are the same size no matter how many strips are in them?  I saw that you can get them in 25 or 50's.  Also, the cord to plug the meter into the DexCom for calibration is 6' long.  That's insane!  Thankfully our trainer remembered how to do the old spiral shoelace trick and was able to wind the cords up for me.  It still doesn't fit inside the case with the meter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-115557234929580382?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/115557234929580382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=115557234929580382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/115557234929580382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/115557234929580382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-got-new-dexcom-that-is.html' title='I got a new Dex...Com that is'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-114556694515971109</id><published>2006-04-20T16:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T16:02:25.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Busted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ten Years are Up&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So…. I made these little chocolate truffle cakes last night after the kids went to bed because I’m hosting my book club here tonight.  I’m keeping them out in the garage fridge so that Susanna doesn’t ask for one.  They, of course, have eggs in them; Zach can’t eat them.  When it was time to feed the dogs, I tried to sneak a truffle while out scooping their food.  Of course there was some crisis that needed my attention.  Thankfully I heard the troops coming.  I stashed my truffle on top of the garbage can (Hey…it has a wrapper on it…).  No need to even tell you that as soon as Susanna opened the garage door her eyes went straight to the damn cupcake- even though she needed my attention, and I was nowhere near the trash.  The crisis was immediately forgotten as she hopped down and started eating chocolate without even asking what it was.  So then Zach wanted some chocolate.  I brought him in to make him some chocolate frosting (I don’t even trust the damn chocolate chips anymore….he’s had hives since Saturday.).  Zach decided to help with the powdered sugar and of course spilled about 2 cups worth all over the floor.  So the dogs moved in to help clean up.  Which made the powdered sugar stick to the floor.  I got out the dustbuster, but that mess was too much for it.  I graduated to the central vac, but forgot to close the broom closet door.  When I turned around, Zach was using the Swiffer Wet Jet on the wood floor- ACK!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think that maybe I should lay off the chocolate?!  Was this some sort of sign?  Didn’t work.  We got the frosting made.  It was even better than the truffles (which I overcooked while reading my favorite blog).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now that I’m ready to finish cleaning up for my company, we’re out of Swiffer Wet Jet solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story about Susanna trying to use the sponge mop will have to be for another day.  Let’s just say that it has to do with me trying to run up and poop in private and that Susanna didn’t know that you’re supposed to wring out the water after wetting the mop….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-114556694515971109?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/114556694515971109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=114556694515971109' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114556694515971109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114556694515971109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/04/busted.html' title='Busted'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-114497808011360388</id><published>2006-04-13T20:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T20:28:00.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird</title><content type='html'>More importantly, why are the words not showing up when I typ???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-114497808011360388?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/114497808011360388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=114497808011360388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114497808011360388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114497808011360388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/04/weird.html' title='Weird'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-114497798978856338</id><published>2006-04-13T20:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T20:26:32.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wondering</title><content type='html'>Why is it that I feel so much less guilty about a high blood sugar after eating, say, a quart of strawberries than a bag of cookies?  I mean, it'a all the same to my eyes,. right?  And yet, somehow I just don't feel like fruit highs are real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why is it that I feel like I won the lottery every time I manage to walk away from a buffet with a normal sugar?  Or a party?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-114497798978856338?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/114497798978856338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=114497798978856338' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114497798978856338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114497798978856338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/04/wondering.html' title='Wondering'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-114437965581716576</id><published>2006-04-06T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T22:14:15.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding it hard to keep my mouth shut</title><content type='html'>One of the classes I'm taking this semester is "Managment in Dietetics".  It's basically a business management class.  Often times in class the professor refers to a "diabetic diet" when talking about menu planning in a hospital.  I just want to interrupt her with some real world advice, "HOLD ON!!! (turn to classmates) Please make sure you carefully interview your diabetic patient and make sure they really need to be restricted!!!!!  Anyone with an A1C of 8 or less really is capable of picking from the regular menu.  I promise!"  You get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Today, while discussing Quality Assurance Audits, she used the example:  "Not all patients admitted with the diagnosis of Diabetes Mellitus are receiving optimum nutrition education."  The whole point is to set up a study, process criteria, etc...  I about choked when she put in the Who Won't Be Included section, "Patients who are hospitalized less than 3 days."  Shit.  The study was only going for 3 months.  What % of people newly diagnosed with D are hospitalized for 3 days?  It seems like most people are kept for a day, then sent home with a packet of info and a bunch of follow up appointments.  In this hypothetical study I don't think she'd have very many subjects, do you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a few other seemingly outdated examples in her hypothetical study.  I finally busted when she said something about, "Discharge summary shows evidence that blood glucose levels moved to acceptable levels (70-120)."  All I could say was, "Of course, they're lives are going to be very different when they walk out the door."  Or something to that effect.  As in, maintaining 70-120 was easy in the hospital when I didn't have to walk around anywhere or chase my dogs from the neighbor's house or run up and down the stairs or have a box of cookies calling me....  It just seemed like such a stupid and naive outcome criteria, you know?  I can't wait to get out there into the real world where I can offer some "real" advice to people with D.  For example, "This year, when you order Girl Scout Cookies, only get the kinds that you don't like.  Life is so much easier when your favorite indulgences are not in your pantry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time my prof mentions D in class my hairs stand on end.  She has volunteered at D camp every year for the last 20   This is supposed to be someone who gets it.  Ha!  Then again, I'm probably taking this whole thing a little too personally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-114437965581716576?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/114437965581716576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=114437965581716576' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114437965581716576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114437965581716576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/04/finding-it-hard-to-keep-my-mouth-shut.html' title='Finding it hard to keep my mouth shut'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-114080426607594567</id><published>2006-02-24T13:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T13:04:26.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am NOT a freak</title><content type='html'>I hear stories from other people with Diabetes all the time.  They're out somewhere and need to test or shoot up.  Heads turn.  Dirty looks are shot.  How dare a person take care of their medical needs out in public?  I had not really experienced this until recently.  At home.  With my own darling daughter.  Since I've started Symlin, my 4 year old is grossed out by my shot taking habits.  She likes to sit at the bar in our kitchen, which happens to be where I prep my shot.  She can't help but stare in horrer and fascination while I inject.  She even asks me to turn the other way so she doesn't have to look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK.  So this is a great teachable moment.  This is the perfect opportunity for me to talk about acceptance of disabilities.  Except that I don't feel disabled.  I'm just annoyed that my own daughter is grossed out by me.  Instead I just tell her that if she does not want to see me inject she needs to turn the other way because Mommy is not a freak.  Maybe next time I'll be more prepared with some words of wisdom.  For now I'm licking my wounds (or at least my pricked finger tips).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-114080426607594567?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/114080426607594567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=114080426607594567' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114080426607594567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114080426607594567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-am-not-freak.html' title='I am NOT a freak'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-114005697943363706</id><published>2006-02-15T21:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T21:29:39.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Run, Forrest, Run!</title><content type='html'>At this point in my life I'm finally getting to know myself.  I've recently learned that I need sleep and exercise to ward off the Prozac.  If I could squeeze in 20 minutes per day on the treadmill, I think I could probably be a much happier person.  A much better mom.  A much friendlier neighbor.  It's not that I don't have 20 minutes.  It's that I can't seem to find the 20 minutes when my insulin isn't too active or the Symlin is going strong or my blood sugar isn't at a point where I would need to eat a candy bar before jumping on.  Somehow having to inhale a Hershey's bar before jogging defeats the purpose for me.  But, then, if the whole point is to maintain my sanity, maybe I should invest in a case of Hershey's and make a run for it.  I might not lose any weight, but I'll be one satisfied woman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-114005697943363706?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/114005697943363706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=114005697943363706' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114005697943363706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/114005697943363706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/02/run-forrest-run.html' title='Run, Forrest, Run!'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22276169.post-113962033999025663</id><published>2006-02-10T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-10T20:12:19.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Cure Yet</title><content type='html'>When I was diagnosed with T1 Diabetes, someone in the medical community (my doctor?  a nurse?  I can't remember.)  was sure to tell me that there would be a cure in 10 years.  I made the mistake of believing them.  I didn't know any better.  I had never known anyone with Diabetes to know that this is a standard party line.  That people who were diagnosed back in the 70's were told that there would be a cure in 10 years.  Even though I know better now, I still can't help but hope that there's a miracle cure between now and August 13, 2006.  Because that's when my 10 years are up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22276169-113962033999025663?l=tenyearsareup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/feeds/113962033999025663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22276169&amp;postID=113962033999025663' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/113962033999025663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22276169/posts/default/113962033999025663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tenyearsareup.blogspot.com/2006/02/no-cure-yet.html' title='No Cure Yet'/><author><name>Jen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07228524410668821185</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><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
