<?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-5769629736761522423</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:24:45.613-08:00</updated><category term='future'/><category term='story'/><category term='Respect'/><category term='Book Review'/><category term='Truth'/><category term='ice cream'/><category term='The Lotus and The Cross'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='Obsessed'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='dreaded question'/><category term='gift'/><category term='knife'/><category term='Blink'/><category term='CEO'/><category term='na&apos;am'/><category term='Zacharias'/><category term='doodle'/><category term='Three'/><category term='Jesus'/><category term='Dekker'/><category term='invincible'/><category term='mangosteen'/><category term='past'/><category term='Infancy'/><title type='text'>W DOODLE</title><subtitle type='html'>To scribble thoughts absentmindedly, this is what doodling is all about.  As for the "W" for this blog, well...that's a doodle right there.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-5031921525673761134</id><published>2008-05-25T04:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T04:51:04.030-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='past'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><title type='text'>Would you rather...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Would you rather have the power to change the past or see the future?"&lt;/span&gt;  This question was posed by a pastor one time.  Some people opted for the latter while some, like myself, opted for the former.  Then, he said to those of you who've chosen to change the past, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"You've made a lot of mistakes in the past, haven't you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of true for some (or is it most) people, isn't it?  Knowing what we know now and what could or might have been makes one want to go back and do things differently.  Unfortunately, that is not reality.  The reality is time moves forward and it always will.  Tomorrows become the present, the present becomes yesterdays, and yesterdays become the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, even though we don't have the power to change what has already gone past and we don't have a crystal ball to see into the future, we still have one power that we can use - choices that we make in the present.  Sure, we'll still fumble some things today, but we keep moving forward, always trying to make our vision of our future a reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, learn from the past, envision the future that you want, and harness the present by making the best possible choices today.  It's not a fool-proof plan and there will still be mistakes but, hey, that's life. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Just keep moving forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-5031921525673761134?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/5031921525673761134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=5031921525673761134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/5031921525673761134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/5031921525673761134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2008/05/would-you-rather.html' title='Would you rather...'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-479431722549345596</id><published>2008-05-25T04:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T04:43:52.000-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreaded question'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><title type='text'>Dreaded Questions</title><content type='html'>A friend's sister got married a while back.  After that, she's been asked by friends and relatives, "When is your wedding going to be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people, in both sexes, get to a certain age, they are asked this kind of question with it's usual variation of "Are you married yet?".  But it doesn't stop there, it never does.  After the first question, there's "Are you pregnant yet?", "Will you be having another child?", "Oh, congratulations on your baby girl, a baby boy is next, right?", "You have two wonderful children, any plans of adding one more?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about people, maybe it's just small talk that sometimes get irritating unless you let it enter in one ear and out the other.  And I know that we are guilty of these kinds of small talk, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-479431722549345596?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/479431722549345596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=479431722549345596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/479431722549345596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/479431722549345596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2008/05/dreaded-questions.html' title='Dreaded Questions'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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-5769629736761522423.post-3236522635001127421</id><published>2007-12-24T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T20:02:06.711-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gift'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jesus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>This is important...</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since my last entry, but I have to share this you though, yeah, you, the one reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only gift that is of utmost importance and value that you can ever receive, if you are willing to receive it, is the gift from God through His Son, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Jesus&lt;/span&gt; the Christ.  Remember that because when all the material gifts in the world have become old and  no longer hold the same value as when you first received it and have become just another pile in the junkyard, you'll be looking and wanting for new gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;eternal gift&lt;/span&gt; from God is always available for you to receive at any time of the year, 24/7, just ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-3236522635001127421?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/3236522635001127421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=3236522635001127421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/3236522635001127421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/3236522635001127421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/12/this-is-important.html' title='This is important...'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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-5769629736761522423.post-6608605344074023377</id><published>2007-10-29T06:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T06:12:08.542-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CEO'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><title type='text'>Chief Executive Officer (CEO)</title><content type='html'>I attended the 6th MICT (Mindanao Information and Communications Technology) Congress a few days ago.  As one of the segments was about to begin, the speaker wanted to have an ice-breaker, since it was still early and the attendees were still few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The speaker wanted to have all the people present to introduce themselves and a little background.  A woman started off saying, "I am ***, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;CEO &lt;/span&gt;of J-com." Then another woman says "I'm ***,&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; CEO&lt;/span&gt; of ABC company."  By now I was thinking, "hmmm, two CEOs."  When the third woman stood up, she said "Hi, I'm *** &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;CEO&lt;/span&gt; of Z-company."  This time, I was, "Uh-oh, how am I gonna introduce myself?"  It's a good thing after the third CEO, things started to go "downhill", there were no more CEOs, just heads of departments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, when it was time for my introduction, I said:  "I'm Wdoodle of *** company."  Ha! Apparently my name is BIG enough that I didn't need any corporate titles.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Wdoodle&lt;/span&gt;, that name will suffice, thank you very much. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(P.s. I didn't put their real company names, obviously.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-6608605344074023377?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/6608605344074023377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=6608605344074023377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/6608605344074023377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/6608605344074023377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/10/chief-executive-officer-ceo.html' title='Chief Executive Officer (CEO)'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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-5769629736761522423.post-7138475174041839534</id><published>2007-10-29T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T18:40:51.014-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='invincible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><title type='text'>"I am Invincible!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"That  jeep can't hit me, I'm too big!"&lt;/span&gt;  I heard this line from a fairly large woman as she was crossing a street against the caution of her companion who was warning her about the larger on-coming public utility vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do pedestrians think that it's always the driver who should watch out.  Haven't we been taught to look both ways before crossing the street?  It's a responsibility of both pedestrian and driver, for their own and other people's safety.  Even if the driver pays for the pedestrian's medical expenses, it will most probably leave a debilitating mark on the pedestrian.  And that can't be erased with money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless, of course, the norm nowadays is a teaching that between flesh and metal, flesh wins.  An idea of &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;invincibility&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"I am invincible, nothing can do me harm!  Come and test me, run me over!"&lt;/span&gt; Wouldn't that be "cool", NOT!  Next thing you know, we'll be taught that we can fly:  just flap your arms, chirp like bird, and off you go. :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-7138475174041839534?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/7138475174041839534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=7138475174041839534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/7138475174041839534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/7138475174041839534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-am-invincible.html' title='&quot;I am Invincible!&quot;'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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-5769629736761522423.post-5261223149527331847</id><published>2007-10-04T01:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T02:12:06.726-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RwSuIql43EI/AAAAAAAAABc/zlvCnmwvz5g/s1600-h/beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RwSuIql43EI/AAAAAAAAABc/zlvCnmwvz5g/s200/beach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117406540495117378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends of mine asked me if I wanted to go to an outing next week, to sandy beaches and sparkling waters somewhere in the Visayas.  I'm sort of "vacationing" right now for the past year or less, not exactly by choice though.  So do you think I, or anyone for that matter, should take a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;vacation&lt;/span&gt; from a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;vacation&lt;/span&gt;?  To unwind from the stresses of vacationing.  ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-5261223149527331847?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/5261223149527331847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=5261223149527331847' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/5261223149527331847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/5261223149527331847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/10/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RwSuIql43EI/AAAAAAAAABc/zlvCnmwvz5g/s72-c/beach.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-9034785908970864335</id><published>2007-09-28T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T21:41:39.199-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knife'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='na&apos;am'/><title type='text'>What 'really' happened at "m and ic"...</title><content type='html'>A few blokes commented that the "m and ic" reads too long and well, nevermind.  Read below as to what "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;" took place...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na'am was walking on dirt road one time, and it didn't matter what he wore.  He saw a soda can on the road, and kicked it hard!  It went over an area of tall grass and hit an elderly fruit picker on the head.  The other fruit pickers threw mangosteens at him.  Satisfied with their rage, they went back to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rv3Us6ls-bI/AAAAAAAAABU/qqMBz1SqkiM/s1600-h/knife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rv3Us6ls-bI/AAAAAAAAABU/qqMBz1SqkiM/s320/knife.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115478619869477298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Na'am saw the mangosteens strewn over the road and thought that this shouldn't go to waste.  He was an &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;opportunistic&lt;/span&gt; guy after all.  He got out his &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;'Rambo'-knife&lt;/span&gt; and started slicing and eating the stuff.  As he was greedily devouring the mangosteens, an ice cream guy happened to come near.  He sees Na'am stuffing himself and holding a &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;BIG&lt;/span&gt; knife and freaks out, shouting:  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Take all of it, it's yours!"&lt;/span&gt;, and runs for dear life.  Na'am looks up and wondered what that was all about but he did hear something about "it's all yours."  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Cool&lt;/span&gt;, he thinks.  He walks over to the ice cream cart, and eats all he can lay his eyes on.  He sees an envelope stuffed with money, and nonchalantly pockets it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, folks, is what 'really' happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-9034785908970864335?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/9034785908970864335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=9034785908970864335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/9034785908970864335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/9034785908970864335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/09/what-really-happened-at-m-and-ic.html' title='What &apos;really&apos; happened at &quot;m and ic&quot;...'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rv3Us6ls-bI/AAAAAAAAABU/qqMBz1SqkiM/s72-c/knife.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-494515308807305478</id><published>2007-09-28T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T01:00:41.176-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mangosteen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice cream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='na&apos;am'/><title type='text'>m and ic</title><content type='html'>Na'am was walking a dirt road one morning, kicking an empty soda can along the way for his amusement.  He was wearing a plain white shirt, khaki cargo pants, and dark brown suede sneakers.  And his socks were of ankle length in neon yellow.  He took amusement in that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the cool morning mist lifted, Na'am kicked the empty soda can a tad bit hard and it flew into the air landing in cheek-high grass by the roadside.  He ambled towards the grass to look for the soda can.  As he was searching for his can among the grass, he noticed beyond it was a plantation of trees and people quietly yet joyfully picking its fruit.  He stared blankly at them at first, yet slowly a boyish smile of amusement crept on his lips.  Suddenly, an elder man called out from among the fruit pickers.  His boyish smile turned into gaping mouth as it dawned on him that the elder man was calling out to him, staring at him intensely.  The elder gentleman waved his hand and signaled to Na'am that he come over.  He walked directly across the tall grass forgetting about the empty soda can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he emerged from the grass, Na'am noticed that the workers were glancing at him with a gentle smile on their faces.  He felt at ease with this.  He continued to walk toward the elder man, and stopped one pace away from the him.  The elder looked at him with the same boyish smile he had a while ago, and Na'am smiled back.  The elder motioned to Na'am if he wanted to do what the others were doing, that is, fruit picking.  Without a word but with a smile of joy,  Na'am walked away from the elder and followed the other workers around, doing what they were doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while, he wondered the name of the fruit he was picking.  It was about the size of his fist, it was round, deep dark purple with dashes of brown in color, a green inverted flower-like stem on one end, and a brown little star on the other end.  Some had five-pointed stars while others had six.  He pondered on this.  A young lady came near Na'am, amused at his face written with curiosity.  She surmised that he had yet to know or eat of this kind of fruit and was wondering about the little stars.  She whispered the name of the fruit: "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mangosteen&lt;/span&gt;", at that, Na'am snapped out of his fixation.  He wondered how long the lady had been there.  But without a word, the young woman calmly took the fruit that he was holding and pointed to the five-pointed little star, tore the green stem from the other end of the fruit, and squeezed the fruit open with both hands.  The fruit revealed five shiny white half-moon shaped meat.  Na'am was smiling at this surprise.  She gave the fruit back to him and gestured that he taste it.  He picked the five half-moons one by one, and with each bite his eyes widened with delight.  The young lady then handed him another one but this time with six-pointed star.  He took off the stem, gave the fruit a good squeeze, its body tore open to reveal six shiny half-moons.  His smile now was from ear to ear.  He ate the six half-moon meat and was thoroughly satisfied.  As he was savoring the taste, the young lady tapped him on the shoulder and gave a sign that they should get back to work picking the fruits.  With a smile and a memory of flavor on his tongue, Na'am got back to fruit picking accompanying the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun had almost risen to its height when they finished picking.  The others were gathering full baskets, carrying them, placing them near the elder who was standing near a mangosteen tree.  Na'am was the last to place his full basket of fruit at the gathering.  Wiping sweat off his face, he saw the young woman who had spoken to him approaching the elder whispering something, and they both looked at him; the elder nodded.  The elder gestured to Na'am to come near, which he did without reservation.  The elder, with a smile, handed him an envelope containing papers of color.  The young woman beside him then gave Na'am a brown paper bag filled with mangosteen; the bag was just large enough to carry with one arm.  He gave a low bow to the elder, not really knowing why he bowed, and walked back to the dirt road across the tall grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing on the dirt road, Na'am looked into the envelope with small colored sheets of paper.  Not knowing what to do with them, he stuffs it inside his right pocket.  With his now free right hand, he started to get one fruit from the brown bag and started to eat it.  Tearing the stem with his teeth, squeezing the fruit with only one hand, then greedily eating the half-moons.  Half-way down his supply of fruit,  Na'am encountered a man on the road pushing a box cart.  Colorfully written on it was the word &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ice cream&lt;/span&gt;.  Na'am raised a curious eyebrow at these words.  The man stopped and asked him if he would like some ice cream.  Na'am nodded.  The ice cream man asked what flavor he would like, at the same time opening the lid at the top of his box cart.  Na'am looked inside the cart and felt a cool mist rising from the opening, and three containers.  One container had brown stuff in it, the other white, and the last one was empty.  With a toothless smile, the man asks "What'll it be, son?"  Na'am thinks that he's been wearing and walking on brown the whole day, so he points at the white stuff.  The ice cream man gets a cone, scoops a heavy portion onto it, extends his hand to Na'am, and says "here's your ice cream."  Na'am slowly takes the ice cream cone from the man, and gives a confused smile. "Go ahead, lick it," the man says.  So, Na'am brings the ice cream near his mouth, and licks.  He is delighted by the taste.  Sweet, creamy, and refreshingly cool after walking under the hot sun.  The ice cream man asks if he has money to pay for it, at the same time holding and showing a colored piece of paper to Na'am.  Na'am eyes the colored paper and nods vigorously.  Since his hands are full, he puckers his lips using it to point to the envelope sticking out of his right pocket.  The ice cream man takes the envelope, takes a piece of colored paper from it, and gently puts it back in the right pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twice today Na'am has been delighted.  First, the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;mangosteen&lt;/span&gt;, then, the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ice cream&lt;/span&gt;.  As he continues his walk on the dirt road, with some dried ice cream marks on his nose, dried mangosteen juice on the side of his lips; and a now slightly smudged white shirt, cargo pants, brown suede shoes with neon yellow socks; he ponders on his two delights.  A fruit with stars and half-moons embraced by a deep dark: like the night sky; and a white stuff called ice cream which tastes sweet, caressingly cool, creamy in texture: like the night mist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rvytl6ls-aI/AAAAAAAAABM/ABEIitBb1Ak/s1600-h/MandIC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rvytl6ls-aI/AAAAAAAAABM/ABEIitBb1Ak/s320/MandIC.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115154143680199074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This story is for my friend, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Lavender&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, who gave the title before the story came to be.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-494515308807305478?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/494515308807305478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=494515308807305478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/494515308807305478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/494515308807305478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/09/m-and-ic.html' title='m and ic'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rvytl6ls-aI/AAAAAAAAABM/ABEIitBb1Ak/s72-c/MandIC.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-2492129989890667594</id><published>2007-09-13T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T22:38:40.147-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Respect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Lotus and The Cross'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zacharias'/><title type='text'>Truth and Respect</title><content type='html'>Here's an excerpt from a book by Ravi Zacharias, The Lotus and The Cross:  "One cannot sacrifice truth at the altar of respect.  To be sure, truth doesn't eliminate respect.  But respect should not be an end in itself.  And as you know, truth is no respecter of persons...  Respect for the right of another to be wrong does not mean that the wrong is right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give a little thought about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-2492129989890667594?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/2492129989890667594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=2492129989890667594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/2492129989890667594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/2492129989890667594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/09/truth-and-respect.html' title='Truth and Respect'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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-5769629736761522423.post-2635147774700652982</id><published>2007-09-01T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T23:24:54.211-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><title type='text'>"Stop giving me money!"</title><content type='html'>Overheard this statement from a bunch of kids playing monopoly:  "Stop giving me money unless I asked!"  I wonder when they grow up if they CAN still say this, whisper it even.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-2635147774700652982?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/2635147774700652982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=2635147774700652982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/2635147774700652982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/2635147774700652982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/09/stop-giving-me-money.html' title='&quot;Stop giving me money!&quot;'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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-5769629736761522423.post-4456695441757913721</id><published>2007-08-31T22:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T23:24:17.470-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doodle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Infancy'/><title type='text'>Infancy...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rtj-R5aPLsI/AAAAAAAAABE/CDLobwFPDRY/s1600-h/babyme.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rtj-R5aPLsI/AAAAAAAAABE/CDLobwFPDRY/s320/babyme.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5105109761046556354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the first day of September, and it seems I've not added anything new yet to my blog. So, like anything new, we start with infancy. As you would have guessed, the picture is me (who else?).  To those who's reading this blog, you now know that this author is of the male species, cute with a disarming smile (no protests, please!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is with great anticipation that this cute little creature grow to be a dashingly handsome creation.  Not too narcissistic, eh?  Of course not, I was talking about my blog site, not me per se. ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-4456695441757913721?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/4456695441757913721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=4456695441757913721' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/4456695441757913721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/4456695441757913721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/08/infancy.html' title='Infancy...'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/Rtj-R5aPLsI/AAAAAAAAABE/CDLobwFPDRY/s72-c/babyme.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-3550316607681714907</id><published>2007-08-16T01:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T23:23:37.751-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blink'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dekker'/><title type='text'>Book Review (Fiction): BLINK by TED DEKkER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RsQKbZaPLrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PZ8aAukUjbs/s1600-h/Blink.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RsQKbZaPLrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PZ8aAukUjbs/s320/Blink.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099212143883923122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blink.  You're in California.  Blink.  You're in Saudi Arabia.  Blink.  The two worlds collide.  Incredible book, lots of action and loaded with concepts.  It also lets you a tiny peek at a veiled culture.  There are some scenes and concepts, though, that are bit hard to chew but adds to the overall weight of the book.  Go read it before it becomes a movie like THR3E!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-3550316607681714907?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/3550316607681714907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=3550316607681714907' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/3550316607681714907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/3550316607681714907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/08/book-review-fiction-obsessed-by-ted_16.html' title='Book Review (Fiction): BLINK by TED DEKkER'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RsQKbZaPLrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PZ8aAukUjbs/s72-c/Blink.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-3033042112404206924</id><published>2007-08-04T01:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T22:58:55.644-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Obsessed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dekker'/><title type='text'>Book Review (Fiction): OBSESSED by TED DEKkER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RrQ3FlPDnKI/AAAAAAAAAAU/JL0suJxozZg/s1600-h/obsessed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RrQ3FlPDnKI/AAAAAAAAAAU/JL0suJxozZg/s320/obsessed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094757647497010338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can I say?  Reading this book will give you the obsession to savor every page and immerse yourself in the novel's world.  Not as fast-paced as "Three" but has enough psycho-juice to leave you giddy.  There are some improbable situations in the story but hey! it's fiction, suspend disbelief.  I will be obsessing for more from this author!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-3033042112404206924?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/3033042112404206924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=3033042112404206924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/3033042112404206924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/3033042112404206924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/08/book-review-fiction-obsessed-by-ted.html' title='Book Review (Fiction): OBSESSED by TED DEKkER'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RrQ3FlPDnKI/AAAAAAAAAAU/JL0suJxozZg/s72-c/obsessed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-8119979366675013643</id><published>2007-08-02T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T22:56:48.724-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Three'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dekker'/><title type='text'>Book Review (Fiction): THR3E by TED DEKkER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RrHBdVPDnJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/_dY8zip0rZE/s1600-h/Three.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RrHBdVPDnJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/_dY8zip0rZE/s320/Three.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094065363193404562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once you've started reading this book you don't want to stop reading even if it's 3 in the morning!  Near-excellent book.  Why near-excellent?  First let me list it's excellency:  rivetingly fast-paced, suspense on every page, use of "regular" words (so I can concentrate on the story and not thumb through the dictionary), and a few good twists and turns.  The not-so-excellent side of the book is its final twist; it lacked enough punch to throw me to the ground.  Maybe I've seen too many psycho-thriller movies to be really surprised with the novel's closure.  But all in all, THR3E is a worthwhile read.  Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-8119979366675013643?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/8119979366675013643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=8119979366675013643' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/8119979366675013643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/8119979366675013643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/08/book-review-fiction-thr3e-by-ted-dekker.html' title='Book Review (Fiction): THR3E by TED DEKkER'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__59g8BeFXt0/RrHBdVPDnJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/_dY8zip0rZE/s72-c/Three.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5769629736761522423.post-320082712422998152</id><published>2007-08-02T04:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T04:16:27.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Me blogger?</title><content type='html'>Hi (to whoever is reading), just created this blog and hope you like what I write or review or whatever is doodled. More to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5769629736761522423-320082712422998152?l=wdoodle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/feeds/320082712422998152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5769629736761522423&amp;postID=320082712422998152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/320082712422998152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5769629736761522423/posts/default/320082712422998152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wdoodle.blogspot.com/2007/08/me-blogger.html' title='Me blogger?'/><author><name>Wdoodle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13294177048979415683</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></feed>
