<?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-4827370900067571462</id><updated>2011-07-31T04:12:38.767-07:00</updated><title type='text'>actually the truth</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pittssuetaylor.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4827370900067571462/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pittssuetaylor.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lindastaylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03255393900016125764</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>1</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4827370900067571462.post-6825059378042650152</id><published>2010-01-11T12:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T12:29:36.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my first feature story</title><content type='html'>There were times when your hand-shake meant your word.  There were also times when you gave your word, that was to seal a deal.  Now, there are too many ways to shaft people, it is so stupid some people fall into a trap where they will believe anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A saying my grandma had said to me, was this:  "You are not any better than anyone else, but no  one is any better than you."  My Grandmother had always talked to me, and I would listen, and knew she would always tell my just exactly how her life started, even from the times when there was only her, her mother and father.  My grandmother had passed away, and left my grandma and her Dad alone.  As time went by, her father re-married, and grandma then, had step-sisters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4827370900067571462-6825059378042650152?l=pittssuetaylor.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pittssuetaylor.blogspot.com/feeds/6825059378042650152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pittssuetaylor.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-first-feature-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4827370900067571462/posts/default/6825059378042650152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4827370900067571462/posts/default/6825059378042650152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pittssuetaylor.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-first-feature-story.html' title='my first feature story'/><author><name>lindastaylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03255393900016125764</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>
