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<channel>
	<title>Petroville &#187; On Being a Drama Queen</title>
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	<description>Trying to use my powers for good...</description>
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		<title>I Could Be Dead to Her Now</title>
		<link>http://www.petroville.com/2009/08/01/i-could-be-dead-to-her-now/</link>
		<comments>http://www.petroville.com/2009/08/01/i-could-be-dead-to-her-now/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 01 Aug 2009 18:48:05 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kimberly</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Flam Damn Fam]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[On Being a Drama Queen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baby]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Birth]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Birthday]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.petroville.com/?p=4353</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My birthday was wonderful thankyouverymuch. All of your sweet wishes here, on twitter &#038; facebook sure made this 36 year old smile. I am a lucky duck and that&#8217;s for certain. 
The day before my birthday, I saw the cardiologist about my right bundle branch block diagnosis freakout. I figured, if I was going to [...]<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/08/01/i-could-be-dead-to-her-now/">I Could Be Dead to Her Now</a></p>
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My birthday was wonderful thankyouverymuch. All of your sweet wishes here, on twitter &#038; facebook sure made this 36 year old smile. I am a lucky duck and that&#8217;s for certain. </p>
<p>The day before my birthday, I saw the cardiologist about my <a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/07/15/violated-for-my-own-good/"target="_blank">right bundle branch block diagnosis freakout</a>. I figured, if I was going to die sooner rather than later, I&#8217;d like to know so I can plan accordingly. As it turns out, this doctor said the exact thing mine did a few weeks ago,<em>&#8220;You&#8217;re fine. I have the same condition myself.&#8221;</em></p>
<p>Geez, with all of us right bundle branch blockers running around, I was thinking maybe we should start a club or something. The cardiologist was really nice, though, and took the time to explain everything so I didn&#8217;t feel any apprehension about getting on roller coasters or standing next to running microwaves. I&#8217;m all set!</p>
<p>Again, my birthday was wonderful. Friends from far and wide joined forces to make it so. And when my mother called to give me an update on <a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/07/27/a-most-amazing-weekend/"target="_blank">the baby</a>, her new grandson, it took a while but she too wished me a happy birthday. Regretfully, she had to bow out of the party, though. The baby needed her. I started to tell her about the cardiologist but she had to go&#8230;the baby was crying. </p>
<p>Later, I recounted the conversation to my husband who said, <em>&#8220;Kim, she has a baby in her life. You&#8217;re dead to her now.&#8221; </em></p>
<p>I&#8217;m sure that&#8217;s not the case even though I&#8217;ve only been able to reach her voice mail today. Hmmmmm&#8230; My birthday, my heart&#8230;whatever. She&#8217;s got a baby now.<br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://www.petroville.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/flowers.jpg" alt="flowers" title="flowers" width="437" height="348" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-4355" /><br />
At least my husband still loves me. </center><br />
</p>
<hr />
<br />
Speaking of babies, you have to read <a href="http://www.dcmetromoms.com/2009/08/hes-lucky-the-baby-wasnt-born-right-there-in-the-drive-thru.html"target="_blank">the tale about what my brother in law did while my sister was in labor.</a> It is a birth story that will be retold through the ages in my family. Forever and ever or until the universe gets him back. </p>
<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/08/01/i-could-be-dead-to-her-now/">I Could Be Dead to Her Now</a></p>
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	<p>&copy; Kimberly for <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a>, 2009. |
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		<title>Violated For My Own Good</title>
		<link>http://www.petroville.com/2009/07/15/violated-for-my-own-good/</link>
		<comments>http://www.petroville.com/2009/07/15/violated-for-my-own-good/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 15 Jul 2009 14:29:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kimberly</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Me... Just Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[On Being a Drama Queen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[aging]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Doctors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Physical]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Well Woman Exam]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.petroville.com/?p=4167</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[As I sit trying to compose some sort of a post, a feat I have failed to do in too many days, I am both inspired and hindered by my throbbing arms. My upper limbs aren&#8217;t the only parts of my body currently in discomfort but I&#8217;ve learned that&#8217;s what you get when you pass [...]<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/07/15/violated-for-my-own-good/">Violated For My Own Good</a></p>
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>As I sit trying to compose some sort of a post, a feat I have failed to do in too many days, I am both inspired and hindered by my throbbing arms. My upper limbs aren&#8217;t the only parts of my body currently in discomfort but I&#8217;ve learned that&#8217;s what you get when you pass through the threshold from almost old into old and risk your life as well as portions of your virginity by getting a well woman exam.</p>
<p>Back in the (pre-35) good old days, I used to think the worst part of a physical exam was <a href="http://www.petroville.com/2007/04/27/can-i-strip-naked-and-pee-first/"target="_blank">hopping on the scale</a>. I actually gave myself a mental pat on the back for not sweating that part this morning. However, that feeling soon left me as I almost took more than one human life on the way to my 9am appointment due to the lack of caffeine in my body. I arrived looking and feeling like a zombie but not really nervous &#8211; just anxious to get my big girl duties behind me and proceed directly to a Starbucks.</p>
<p>My name was called just as I began dozing off to CNN in the waiting room. I thought I had sleep in my eyes when the nurse started giving me the usual litany of instructions.<br />
<em><br />
&#8220;Stand on the scale.<br />
Stick this under your tongue.<br />
Pee in a cup.<br />
Give me your arm.<br />
Take off your clothes.&#8221;</em></p>
<p>She talked the talk but I could have sworn that Haley, my nurse who was getting way too personal way too fast, was no more than 19 years old. And what&#8217;s worse than a size 2, porcelain skinned beauty, almost half my age, whose face could have been on the cover of Teen Vogue, taking my weight first thing in the morning before I&#8217;ve had any coffee? </p>
<p>Hearing her say, <em>&#8220;Duuuuuude&#8221;</em> when I got off the scale. </p>
<p>It went downhill from there. </p>
<p><em>&#8220;Have you ever had an EKG?&#8221;<br />
&#8220;Um&#8230;no.&#8221;<br />
&#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s just like standard procedure.&#8221;</em></p>
<p>The next thing I knew, she was asking me about Disneyland and putting strips of tape all around my boob and other parts of my naked body. Then she connected me to a bunch of wires and, although I thought I might explode, nothing much happened.<br />
<em><br />
&#8220;Cool. The doctor will give you the results when she comes in to do your exam.&#8221;</em></p>
<p>Just as I was imagining all of the other tests they had in store for me now that I am in the AAC (advanced age category), the door opened and my doctor walked in, sat down and quickly informed me, <em>&#8220;You have a right <a href="http://www.csmc.edu/8657.html"target="_blank">bundle branch block</a>.&#8221;</em></p>
<p>I thought she was continuing a leftover conversation with someone in the hallway about gardening or breakfast cereal but soon realized she was talking to me.</p>
<p><em>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry&#8230;What?&#8221;</em></p>
<p>And so my doctor explained. She went on to say that she has the same condition herself and that she&#8217;s healthy as a horse so I really shouldn&#8217;t worry. In fact, before I had time to allow the news to sink in that I have a FREAKING HEART CONDITION she was pulling out the stirrups and asked me to <em>&#8220;skooch down&#8221;</em>. She turned on the light and the games began.</p>
<p><em>&#8220;Lights, camera, action!&#8221;</em>, she said. (Yes, she actually SAID that.)<br />
<em>&#8220;Oh no&#8230;no camera,&#8221; </em>I replied through clenched teeth.</p>
<p>The doctor and teen nurse both thought my comeback was hilarious. I usually enjoy a good laugh too, especially if I am the one delivering it, and probably would have chuckled myself if I didn&#8217;t have all sorts of unsavory things going on in my nether regions.  </p>
<p><em>&#8220;Okay&#8230;and we&#8217;re going to do a quick rectal&#8230;&#8221;<br />
&#8220;WHAAAAAAAAAAA?&#8221;<br />
&#8220;I know. It&#8217;s not fun.&#8221;</em></p>
<p>As her thumb (or something) was in my ass, flashes of the HBO series <a href="http://www.hbo.com/oz/cast/index.shtml"target="_blank">Oz</a> raced though my head and I tried to go to a happy place but before I got there, it was over. I was left feeling confused and like I may need counseling. <em>Maybe it&#8217;s my fault?</em></p>
<p>Teen nurse then failed miserably at getting blood from one arm but luckily I had another for her to practice on. I was asked if I had any questions, given homework (an Rx for my very first mammogram) and they concluded my exam. </p>
<p>The only conclusion <em>I came to</em> was that they shouldn&#8217;t be messing with a girl with a weak heart by giving shocking news so quickly and then probing rectally without warning. That and well woman exams, along with aging in general, suck big, fat, hairy balls. </p>
<p>As far as the title of this post? The jury is still out on that one. </p>
<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/07/15/violated-for-my-own-good/">Violated For My Own Good</a></p>
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	<p>&copy; Kimberly for <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a>, 2009. |
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		<title>On Losing My Filter</title>
		<link>http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/28/different-than-filtered-water/</link>
		<comments>http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/28/different-than-filtered-water/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 28 May 2009 04:00:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kimberly</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Blog Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Me... Just Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[On Being a Drama Queen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blogging]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.petroville.com/?p=3819</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Recently, I&#8217;ve misplaced something that I used to rely on quite frequently to keep me out of trouble. I don&#8217;t know if this development is good or bad but it sure is interesting from an introspection angle. 
I used to double check and second guess anything I said or did that I felt could have [...]<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/28/different-than-filtered-water/">On Losing My Filter</a></p>
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Recently, I&#8217;ve misplaced something that I used to rely on quite frequently to keep me out of trouble. I don&#8217;t know if this development is good or bad but it sure is interesting from an introspection angle. </p>
<p>I used to double check and second guess anything I said or did that I felt could have lasting implications. (Unless I was tipsy or in a fight &#8211; or both. Come on, I&#8217;m not a saint.) Now, though, without much effort or ceremony, my filter seems to have vanished&#8230;or is in hiding. And honestly? I&#8217;m not sure that I want it back.</p>
<p>My filter probably would have kept me from writing yesterday&#8217;s post. Maybe. (After all I am a Leo who went to acting school. &#8220;Drama Queen&#8221; is on my resume legitimately.) But I&#8217;ve done other things. I told off a stupid man who was being an ass to my friend. (I still think that was a good one.) I&#8217;ve been honest and let people know that they have hurt my feelings. (I can&#8217;t poke holes in that either.) I have ended friendships. (Ouch.) I&#8217;ve said other things too but luckily he&#8217;s already forgiven me. (Thank God my husband loves me. I really don&#8217;t deserve him.)</p>
<p>My point is&#8230;or rather, my question is: Is being filterless and therefore more transparent better or worse? I guess it depends on if you like what you see. Or more importantly, if I&#8217;m asking myself,<em> if I do. </em></p>
<p>I&#8217;ve been teetering on apologizing for my middle school showing yesterday but I&#8217;m not going to. That&#8217;s how I was feeling before I went to bed last night. And what made it better the next day was knowing that you were still reading. Not only did you speak up and give me a swell hug and a kick in the behind, <a href="http://www.greeblemonkey.com/2009/05/middle-class.html"target="_blank">some of you</a> were even on a similar wavelength. </p>
<p>Aimee&#8217;s post really spoke to me because I often times struggle with who I am and where I fit out here. I&#8217;m not a member of the cool crowd. I don&#8217;t call myself a Mommyblogger or a Review Blogger but you could say that I dabble a little in both. I write a few reviews and some days I write about my kids. Sometimes I write about my garden and wine and wrinkles and growing old and marriage and where I live&#8230;So what does that make me? Ack, the labels just screw with my head. I write about my life &#8211; the highs and the lows. And I&#8217;m honored that you take the time to read it. Truly.</p>
<p><center><img src="http://www.petroville.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/400-bright_and_cheery.jpg" alt="flowers" title="flowers" width="350" height="350" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-3838" /><br />
<small>Thanks <a href="http://www.myspace.com/dmcco01"target="_blank">Deanna</a></small></center></p>
<p>Just to set the record straight, no, I am not quitting blogging. I was not trying to allude to that by my Letter to the Blogosphere yesterday. No, for better or for worse, I&#8217;m quite proud of the little piece of real estate I&#8217;ve carved for myself here on the internet and I intend on staying put &#8211; which, ironically, is more than I can say for my filter.</p>
<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/28/different-than-filtered-water/">On Losing My Filter</a></p>
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		<title>You Don&#8217;t Sing Me Love Songs&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/27/you-dont-sing-me-love-songs/</link>
		<comments>http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/27/you-dont-sing-me-love-songs/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 May 2009 04:00:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kimberly</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Blog Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[On Being a Drama Queen]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blogging]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.petroville.com/?p=3801</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Dear Blogosphere,
This has been a long time in coming and I think we both know that things have changed. Since you have chosen to be elusive and ignore our problems, I&#8217;m going to have to be the one to say it out loud &#8211; I&#8217;m not feeling the love anymore. 
We&#8217;ve been there for each [...]<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/27/you-dont-sing-me-love-songs/">You Don&#8217;t Sing Me Love Songs&#8230;</a></p>
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Dear Blogosphere,</p>
<p>This has been a long time in coming and I think we both know that things have changed. Since you have chosen to be elusive and ignore our problems, I&#8217;m going to have to be the one to say it out loud &#8211; I&#8217;m not feeling the love anymore. </p>
<p>We&#8217;ve been there for each other for over 4 years now and even though I realize that our relationship isn&#8217;t as fresh and as new as it once was, I always thought we&#8217;d be able to hang on to our foundation of communication. </p>
<p>What changed Blogosphere? Was it something I said? Did you fall for someone else? I still see you around but when I do you look like you&#8217;re in a hurry and your mind is elsewhere. We used to talk and talk and talk. And oh, how we would laugh. And you held me when I cried my hardest of tears. Yes, you have been there for me Blogosphere but why does it feel so different now? Why does it feel like we no longer belong to each other in the same way?</p>
<p>Blogosphere, you used to talk to me and tell me you loved me 20 even sometimes 30 times a day. Now when I reach out, I&#8217;m lucky if you even say hello. It makes me so sad.</p>
<p>Maybe I&#8217;m to blame. I&#8217;m willing to accept that fact but I&#8217;d like to know why. What did I do to drive you away? Are you just putting off the inevitable? Are we breaking up?</p>
<p>I wish I knew&#8230;</p>
<p>Because I still love you, Blogosphere. Truly, I do.</p>
<p>Always,<br />
Kimberly</p>
<p><center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2cG7_jheC8A&#038;hl=en&#038;fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2cG7_jheC8A&#038;hl=en&#038;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
I&#8217;m Babs in the video. You can be Neil. Too bad&#8230;I called it.</center></p>
<hr />
<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/05/27/you-dont-sing-me-love-songs/">You Don&#8217;t Sing Me Love Songs&#8230;</a></p>
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	<p>&copy; Kimberly for <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a>, 2009. |
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		<title>So Not Famous</title>
		<link>http://www.petroville.com/2009/04/27/so-not-famous/</link>
		<comments>http://www.petroville.com/2009/04/27/so-not-famous/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 27 Apr 2009 04:00:12 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kimberly</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Girly-girls]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jazzercise]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Me... Just Me]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[On Being a Drama Queen]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Isn&#8217;t it weird how life turns out? If you&#8217;re on Facebook (and who isn&#8217;t?), you are constantly being reminded of who you were in high school and college. It&#8217;s a great way to reconnect with those old pals but every once in a while, or maybe more than that, reminiscing about the good ol&#8217; days [...]<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/04/27/so-not-famous/">So Not Famous</a></p>
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Isn&#8217;t it weird how life turns out? If you&#8217;re on Facebook (and who isn&#8217;t?), you are constantly being reminded of who you were in high school and college. It&#8217;s a great way to reconnect with those old pals but every once in a while, or maybe more than that, reminiscing about the good ol&#8217; days may make you want to slap someone. </p>
<p>Over the weekend, I received a message from a friend I knew growing up &#8211; <em>PG County, holla!</em> (Not really, in fact, I can&#8217;t STAND the term &#8220;Holla&#8221;. Unless you are Gwen fucking Stefani, you should not be using it.) Anyway, it was a nice message but here&#8217;s the part that made me cringe:</p>
<p><em>Always wondered what became of you. I thought you were a movie star by now, you had a lot of talent back in the day.</em></p>
<p>Right. Well, old friend, I&#8217;m no movie star but thanks for the reality check because I needed that. Really&#8230;like, I almost forgot where I put my tiara. I should call my agent because she would know&#8230;</p>
<p>On the other hand, I seem to be famous on a very minuscule scale which is just enough to keep the skin on my wrists together at moments like these. </p>
<p>Take, for example, last Friday morning. My 13 year old made it into the All State Honors Chorus again this year (holla!) and I was her chaperone on a lovely 2 day trip to Fredricksburg, VA where the rehearsals and performance took place. Parents had blocks of free time while the students were in session. During one of those periods, I decided to take a local Jazzercise class. </p>
<p>I knew there was a Jazzercise center close by because it was where <a href="http://www.petroville.com/2007/01/28/humble-pie/"target="_blank">I was certified as an instructor</a> although I had not been back since. (And if you read the linked post, you&#8217;d know why. I was a-scared.) </p>
<p>I walked in a little nervous but happy to be exercising because I had been eating like a pig. (Fredricksburg restaurants, hollla!) I proceeded to sign in when I got the nicest surprise.</p>
<p><em>Hi there.<br />
Hi! Can I have your name, please?<br />
I&#8217;m a visiting instructor. My name is Ki&#8230;</em></p>
<p>Just then, the instructor walked in and said, <em>&#8220;I know who you are. I read your blog.&#8221;</p>
<p>Really?<br />
Yeah, I think I channeled you here or something.<br />
Huh? Why?<br />
I was just looking over that Earth Day routine and thought of you. You know, the one that you did on the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u29s6I0f6GU"target="_blank">YouTube video</a>?<br />
Yeah?<br />
And I almost wore that same top today.</em></p>
<p>Wow&#8230;it was meant to be. </p>
<p>And she was SO. NICE. </p>
<p>They all were. And then Stacy, the sweet instructor who was so warm and welcoming and reads my blog and remembers me from YouTube, proceeded to kick my ass in her circuit class. An ego boost plus a killer workout? I think I&#8217;m in love. (Stacy at <a href="http://www.jazzintheburg.com"target="_blank">Fredricksburg Jazzercise</a>, holla!)</p>
<p>So, you see, even flip camera moments like the one below (see me at the very end?) can save your smile on days when old friends want to remind you of who you said you&#8217;d be someday but you&#8217;re not.</p>
<p><center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u29s6I0f6GU&#038;hl=en&#038;fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u29s6I0f6GU&#038;hl=en&#038;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<br />
And, like I told you,  I ain&#8217;t no <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AU-kAnB24I"target="_blank">hollaback girl</a>. Yeah, I probably should have stuck with that&#8230;</center></p>
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<p>Post from: <a href="http://www.petroville.com">Petroville</a> No scraping.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.petroville.com/2009/04/27/so-not-famous/">So Not Famous</a></p>
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