<?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-8697057193819773728</id><updated>2011-07-18T23:27:07.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Prom Story</title><subtitle type='html'>Tell us your prom story, whether it was good, bad or ugly!

Do you want to contribute your prom story? Just email me at czastrow@tehamaed.org to be included!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-3723833858750784587</id><published>2010-04-06T16:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T16:25:09.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yuliana's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;And so the story begins: &lt;/span&gt;I had been dating this one boy since my sophomore year and we decided to go to our senior prom. My friends and I had planned this huge dinner together, making it a triple date. The dress: what every girl looks forward to. The best part about shopping: the $9.97 dress I found at JC Penney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;He decided that he wanted an all white suit and of course, me in my red nine dollar dress. In the end neither of my friends showed up, so the two of us had dinner in Chico at a Chinese restaurant; you can never go wrong with Chinese food. The actual dance was okay, almost what a normal school dance would be only fancier.  We left Prom because he wanted to go to a house party and as soon as we got there I decided house parties were not for me. The night ended with a chicken sandwich from Jack in the Box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p  style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The big surprise came weeks later when I found out that he had been cheating on me with another girl--apparently "my friend." As part of my revenge I took our Prom picture, tore them apart and destroyed the evidence, or so I thought.  Days later my mom found a piece of one of the pictures I had torn and she told me "hey your ex-boyfriend's feet were just lying around." And so maybe that is why I do not have such a vivid memory of my 2004 Senior Prom at CUHS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yuliana Prom 2004&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-3723833858750784587?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/3723833858750784587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=3723833858750784587' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/3723833858750784587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/3723833858750784587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2010/04/yulianas-prom-story.html' title='Yuliana&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-9126181590344794648</id><published>2010-04-06T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T16:22:47.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lynda's Prom Stories</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="margin: 1ex;font-family:arial;"&gt;      &lt;div&gt;    &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I didn’t have a prom experience.  I daydreamed about it a lot… what I’d wear, how I’d fix my hair,  what kind of corsage my date would bring me, how I would dance.   With 4 kids, my parents couldn’t afford a lot. I worked and would’ve  paid for it myself.  My boyfriend didn’t like dances or dancing  and never wanted to go.  I thought about going with other friends  that didn’t have dates, but that seemed embarrassing to me.   But I think if I knew then what I know now, I probably would‘ve gone  solo just for the fun of it.  My boyfriend always said I could  go without him if I wanted to, but I knew he really wouldn’t be happy  if I did.  That boyfriend has been my husband since 1976, he still  doesn’t like to dance.  He danced at our wedding, will sometimes  dance one slow dance with me at weddings and special occasions and he’ll  dance with me at home when no one’s looking, and that’s ok with  me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I encouraged my kids to go  to the proms and formals whether they had a date or not.  They  went to Los Molinos H.S. (Grad yrs ‘97 to 2001).  My daughter, son  and two nieces (that lived with us during their high school years) went  to most, sometimes with dates and sometimes with good friends.   They always had a blast!  They usually went to dinner in Chico.   Sometimes fancy elegant places like the Albatross, sometimes fun silly  places like Chucky Cheese.  Then on to prom” for photos, special  hors d’oeuvres and punch, hanging out with friends, dancing away with  their dates and others, and dancing in fun friend groups just being  silly and having a great time.  They’d usually go to breakfast  in Red Bluff afterwards.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I always worried about them  being on the road before and after… it’s a mom thing!    With no cell phones, I made them call me at each destination (what a  pain I must’ve been).  I’d wait up for them and listen to all  the details which they seemed happy to share with me, as though they  didn’t want the night to end.  (I prommed vicariously through  them, tee hee)  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The girls always had to have  “new” dresses.  And, of course, all the lovely adornments to  enhance it all.  One time we did a swap and had friends bring dresses  from years past and they traded off.  I was glad for that year,  it can all get quite expensive.  Sometimes they paid for their  own hair, makeup and nails and sometimes they would do it all at home  with friends and my help.  Although, they really would rather have  the friends’ help than mine, so I usually had to “back off”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.   Too old fashioned, I’m sure you know what I mean.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My son was a character.   He and his best friend always wore something crazy and funny.   Like one time they wore bowling shoes, another time wore their Motox  Fox, No Fear or AC/DC style caps with their tuxes and van shoes.   I remember them wearing dressy sweaters one year when no one else did.   I’m sure their dates must have wondered how they’d show up each  time.  Once my son waited ‘til almost the last minute to decide  to go, then wanted a tux.  I was so glad that he got measured and  got it ordered “in time”.  But when he picked it up, the jacket  was way too short in the middle and sleeves (he was tall and skinny),  and it was too late to do anything about it.  (He didn’t get  any money back for what I thought was the blunder of the store clerk,  but “oh well.”)   He wore it anyway, and just had fun  with it.  His date was so beautiful and I think his “fun” personality  made up for his lack of sophistication (I hope so anyway).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love to look back at all  the pictures, it brings back very fun memories!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I still had a few of the dresses  and shoes at home and, with the girls’ permission, I donated them  to our prom project a couple of years ago.  I hope other moms had  the same kind of pleasure I had… watching, waiting, and listening  to all of the happy details of their child’s “prom”!  I say “child”,  but they sure looked all grown up on those special nights.  (Well, the  girls did anyway.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-9126181590344794648?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/9126181590344794648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=9126181590344794648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/9126181590344794648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/9126181590344794648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2010/04/lyndas-prom-stories.html' title='Lynda&apos;s Prom Stories'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-5910598981223084062</id><published>2010-04-05T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T08:25:04.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Denise's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/S7tSSs_gAcI/AAAAAAAAADE/CDBXktStXWc/s1600/SCAN0009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/S7tSSs_gAcI/AAAAAAAAADE/CDBXktStXWc/s320/SCAN0009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457045854758109634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My prom story...I went kicking and screaming...I so didn't want to go but one of my friends insisted going as far as to find me a date for the evening. Then a week before prom, when the tickets, dress and all the trimmings were purchased my date dumped me (can one be dumped even if they have never met the other person??) for my friend. I however got the last laugh as I then asked another friend of mine who had graduated the year before if he would go. My friend Matt said yes and showed up in a tux while "Mr. Dump" sported dockers and a sweater...&lt;/div&gt;  I won't go into details about the rest of the evening but I remember the waiter at dinner spent a great deal of time staring at my friend's chest making "Mr. Dump" fairly upset...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denise Prom 1993&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-5910598981223084062?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/5910598981223084062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=5910598981223084062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/5910598981223084062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/5910598981223084062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2010/04/deniss-prom-story.html' title='Denise&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/S7tSSs_gAcI/AAAAAAAAADE/CDBXktStXWc/s72-c/SCAN0009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-6793076287586757605</id><published>2010-04-05T11:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T13:03:18.875-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creating Prom Stories: The Prom Project 2010 has begun!</title><content type='html'>Making prom dreams come true...that is our aim with The Prom Project here in Tehama County. We are currently preparing for our weeklong prom boutique, during which teens--both boys and girls--from all over the county can shop for formal wear. We know that prom is an important milestone for many teens, and with today's hard times, getting that perfect dress is a hardship, making prom often unattainable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So join us April 12th-17th to shop. Students should bring their school ID. If you have gently used formal wear that you wish to donate, we are accepting all types, and truly need larger size women's clothes as well as male formal attire. We also accept shoes, handbags, jewelry and unopened cosmetics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-6793076287586757605?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/6793076287586757605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=6793076287586757605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/6793076287586757605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/6793076287586757605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post.html' title='Creating Prom Stories: The Prom Project 2010 has begun!'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-7822681284342186628</id><published>2008-04-14T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T18:44:15.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Melissa's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;After three years of mediocre school dances, I wasn't too excited about my  senior prom. That is, until I found the perfect red dress. It had a sort of  flamenco flair and I felt exotic and different in it. I had to wade through a   lot of Laura Ashley dresses to find this hot little number back in 1989. I still  have that dress and although I know I'll never fit into it again (sigh!) at  least I can still conjure up good memories of a young woman who really wanted to  stand out from the crowd.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The funny thing is, an FFA market pig almost kept me from my prom! People  might find it hard to believe now, but I was a serious ag student and very  active member of Chico High's FFA program. I sold market animals through 4-H and  FFA to finance a college fund. (And to think I used those funds at radical San  Francisco State University!) As it turned out, my senior prom was the same day  as the Junior Livestock Auction at the Silver Dollar Fair. And I had a late sale  number. My memory is of the sky actually starting to change, it was getting so  late in the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time my pig actually sold, I had precious little time to gloat over  my check. It was time to get showered and ready for prom! The thing with working  around livestock all day, especially livestock being handled by sweaty teenagers  and 4-H tykes, is that you never quite feel clean after only one shower. But  that's all I had time for. So although my dress made me feel exotic, I still  couldn't help checking myself throughout the night for traces of livestock  smell. That stuff just sticks with you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My date, a good friend who I may have been a bit clueless towards, turned  out to be a wonderful gentleman who created a beautiful prom experience for me,  more than making up for three years of bad school dances. He wore a skinny 80's  style red tie to match my dress and we looked smashing--in that 80's flamenco  kind of way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melissa Prom 1989&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-7822681284342186628?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/7822681284342186628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=7822681284342186628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/7822681284342186628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/7822681284342186628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/melissas-prom-story.html' title='Melissa&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-336184741526106130</id><published>2008-04-14T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-14T18:41:16.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharon's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The first prom I went to was my Junior/Senior prom.  I don't know what I  was thinking but I wore a sweater and a skirt!  My boyfriend and I were dropped  off at the prom by his mother who was going to pick us up when it was over.  I  was a bit disconcerted when I saw that I was the only girl in a sweater and  skirt but since we were stuck there until the end I decided to have fun anyway.  We danced and had a great time!!  I found out it really doesn't matter what you  wear, it's all about having a good attitude and having fun!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For my senior prom my mom made my dress.  I didn't want pastels and tule,  etc. so we picked out red taffeta and put black lace over the top giving it a  spanish look.  Also, I didn't like corsages, especially on my shoulder so my  boyfriend bought me a wrist corsage (I wore it but still didn't like it).  I  seemed to "dance to my own tune" back then and I guess I still do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hope all the prom goers this year have the time of their lives!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sharon Prom 1957&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-336184741526106130?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/336184741526106130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=336184741526106130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/336184741526106130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/336184741526106130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/sharons-prom-story.html' title='Sharon&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-4108313111655397464</id><published>2008-04-04T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T22:00:39.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'>T.H.'s Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Junior Prom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I have to start this story while I was at home getting ready.  I was so excited, the first time I had ever had a reason to get all fancied up.  I had a black dress that I bought while visiting my mom in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer; font-family: arial;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1207371134_0"&gt;San Francisco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;.  It was lace and came down to just above my knees and was sleeveless.  I loved this dress.  Although looking back, I don't know what I was thinking.  My sisters helped me get ready and did my hair.  They helped me pick out jewelry and other accessories.  My hair was curled into loose ringlets and pulled back.  I wore my stepmoms necklace and earrings that were silver and black.  My shoes where high strappy heals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Once I was dressed and ready I came out of the bathroom and showed my dad and stepmom how I looked.  My dad took one look at me and said, "I don't know if I am comfortable with you leaving the house looking like that."  I was shocked.   I didn't know what to say.  I reminded him that I showed him the dress after I bought it and he didn't have a problem with it then.  His answer to this was, "I never saw it on you."  I was about to cry when my stepmom came over and told him that I looked great and he shouldn't worry about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Then my dad decided that in order to keep my date in line he was going to clean his gun while we waited for Johnathan to show up.  I was so embarrased.  I tried to convince him not to but it was too late, Johnathan was there!!!  He came into the house and I am sure that he was scared of my father but he acted fine.  My dad just sat there cleaning his gun and asked when he was going to have me home.  Johnathan asked the perfect question, "When would you like me to have her home?"  My dad smiled and said 2 am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;We left and drove to the prom.  It was held at a hotel in the next town over.  I am sure we talked along the way but I am not sure what about.  (it has been a while since I was in high school).  The dance itself wasn't much to talk about.  It was mostly the same people I talked to at school sitting at a table talking.  I don't remember dancing much but I am sure I did.  I mostly remember sitting at the table talking to my friends and taking lots of pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;After the dance, a bunch of my friends and I decided to go to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer; font-family: arial;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1207371134_1"&gt;the lake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;.  Once there we decided it would be a good idea to go skinny dipping.  That was not a good idea!!!  It was way too cold and dark!  It was fun to watch one of my male friends run into the water and jump about 10 feet into the air and scream like a girl!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;We then went to Denny's and got some food before Johnathan drove me home.  It was a good time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Senor Prom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Senor prom was completely different from my junior prom.  First of all I actually had a boyfriend, Chuck, and my parents were out of town.  This time I wore a full length blue dress.  It was also sleeveless and lacy and form fitting.  I loved that dress.  I thought I looked beautiful.  My friend Beth came over to my house to help me get ready.  She didn't go to the same school so she wasn't going to the Prom.  My hair was curled in loose rings and clipped back behind my ears.  I wore matching blue strappy heals, and pearl earrings and necklace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Chuck drove up to my house in a blue rental car that was almost the same color as my dress!  He told me he had planned that when I told him what color my dress was.  We took a lot of pictures at my house before we left for the Prom.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The Prom was at a hotel up in the mountains.  There was still snow on the ground around the hotel.  It was beautiful, but cold!  Once inside we took lots of pictures and made our way to the tables for dinner.   I think I sat with pretty much the same people that I did at my Junior prom.  The food wasn't anything great but since it was at prom it seemed great at the time.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I danced most of the night.  They played a video of different school events and people from our class.  Although it was a well made video, I was rather bored.  Since I never really did anything to get noticed in school and neither did my friends, there wasn't anyone I cared about in the video.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;After the prom a bunch of us went back to my house, since my parents were out of town it seemed like a good place to go.  We microwaved some pizza and played board games till the wee hours of the morning.  It was a good night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;T.H. Prom 1994 and 1995&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-4108313111655397464?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/4108313111655397464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=4108313111655397464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/4108313111655397464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/4108313111655397464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/ths-prom-story.html' title='T.H.&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-5175334570177930290</id><published>2008-04-04T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T13:22:19.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adel's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I went Los Molinos High School and attended my senior prom in 2001.  Our class theme was "An Enchanted Evening". I really wanted to go because all  my friends were going, and most importantly I knew it was one of those significant moments in a girl's life. Back then my parents (especially  my mom) were very strict and the only school functions we were allowed to go  to were homecoming and school day trips, so you can understand why my  chances of going to prom were very slim, not to mention my sister was not allowed  to go to hers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;             &lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As prom was getting closer and closer I still couldn't get the nerve to  ask my parents to let me go. I went ahead and bought my ticket and prom  dress, hoping that if I bought them I would at least be prepared, just in case  my parents decided by some miracle to bend the rules for me. I waited as  long as I could that day, literally a few hours before prom started, waiting  for the right moment. I walked into my parent's room and asked them if I  could go. My parents both looked at each other for a brief moment and agreed,  but told me I had to be home by 11:00. The prom started around 9:00 so  that didn't really give me that much time, but I figured beggars can't be choosers and was content just the same. I called my cousins wife and  she came over and did my hair. My dress was a long glittery turquoise  color, with spaghetti straps, and it criss crossed in the back (I still have  my dress).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I had so much fun that night. It didn't really matter that I didn't  have time to get a date because I spent the whole night with my friends  and danced with this guy I had a huge crush on. If I could, I would do it  all over again in a heart beat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Adel Prom 2001&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-5175334570177930290?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/5175334570177930290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=5175334570177930290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/5175334570177930290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/5175334570177930290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/adels-prom-story.html' title='Adel&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-647985651656578205</id><published>2008-04-04T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T13:38:15.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maria's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Mine isn't much of a prom story (or at least there isn't going to be a movie written about it), but the one thing that I will always  remember is how good it felt to dress-up in what I thought was the best looking  dress in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Picture it: shiny peachy color with a big bow right on top  of my butt; my shoes were white, and of course they had tiny bows in the  front. I had really long hair and I wore it pinned to the side with...a big  bow!!! Oh my gosh!!!! Anyhow, I'm glad that I had that experience; I'll  always remember the excitement of dressing up, fixing my hair, and waiting for  my date!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Maria Prom 1985&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-647985651656578205?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/647985651656578205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=647985651656578205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/647985651656578205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/647985651656578205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/marias-prom-story.html' title='Maria&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-7858286349009061774</id><published>2008-04-04T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T11:39:23.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Theresa's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, I wish I had a prom story for you.  I didn't go to one prom during  my high school years.  It is one of my big regrets.  It's an important  event and one you will most likely wish you had a memory of.  Find a way to participate - with or without help.  Memories are what its all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theresa 1982&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-7858286349009061774?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/7858286349009061774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=7858286349009061774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/7858286349009061774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/7858286349009061774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/theresas-prom-story.html' title='Theresa&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-687581100073606349</id><published>2008-04-03T15:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T20:20:39.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Linda's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My Senior "Ball", which is what our prom was called at Red Bluff High in  1977, was a bittersweet night.  It was so long ago that I don't remember the  price of gas or a loaf of bread, or anything else for that matter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made my  dress which was a long sundress that consisted of many ruffles.  It was made out  of a "lovely" red and white seersucker fabric (note the sarcasm) with lots of  white cotton eyelet trim and a white butterfly applique on the bodice for an  extra nice touch of fashion genius?!!??   My date had a matching red shirt,  cream corduroy pants, and a cream corduroy vest concocted by his industrious   "Suzie Homemaker" girlfriend..........me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met several other couples at the  Lassen Steak House in Vina for dinner and the evening seemed to be progressing  nicely.  For reasons that I can no longer recall, my boyfriend and I got into a  very heated disagreement and we spent the entire evening arguing.  I was pouting  when they announced the "Senior Most" awards at midnight.  The last award of the  evening went to the "Class of '77 Cutest Couple" and when I heard our names it  was very hard for me to walk up there with the guy.  I sort of dragged myself to  the stage when the infamous Tehama County photographer, Ralph Ehorn, decided  that we needed to kiss for the yearbook picture.  YUCK!!!  The last thing I  wanted to do was kiss my date at that moment in front of my peers!  But I was a  good sport and gave him a pretty friendly kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It turns out that was a good thing because now I have something to show my  grandkids.  You see I've been married to my "prom date" for 30 years now and he  would still wear anything I made for him!  (Luckily for him I don't sew much  anymore!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" &gt;Linda Prom 1977&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-687581100073606349?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/687581100073606349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=687581100073606349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/687581100073606349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/687581100073606349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/lindas-prom-story_03.html' title='Linda&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-4911084579447467176</id><published>2008-04-03T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T20:21:08.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>T.D.'s Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_VVc5CgSzI/AAAAAAAAAAY/sGpzFsPOTUI/s1600-h/williamskeesler.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_VVc5CgSzI/AAAAAAAAAAY/sGpzFsPOTUI/s320/williamskeesler.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185144500823018290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Yes -- turning the hands of time WAY BACK, it was 1985 (Hanford High School, CA)  and I remember thinking with my best friend that it was just important that we  WENT to the dance, (since I was at the time without a steady boyfriend) and that  it really didn't matter who the date was (within reason!).  She arranged for me  to go with her boyfriends' best friend.  We just wanted to wear pretty dresses,  new shoes, and the latest hair style, makeup trends, etc.!  With Madonna being  ALL the rage -- as if you couldn't tell by the lace gloves and hair bow -- our  options were endless!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My best friend is still my best friend, to this  day.  We've known each other since we were 12 years old.  We got an award at our  recent 20 year HS reunion for being the ones there with the longest friendship!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;She ended up being married for a few years to the guy in the pic  - but  I was left behind that night in 1985, alone, at somebody's house (at an after  party) by the guy who was my date.  He left me there after he 'got back  together' with his girlfriend and left with her while I was in the restroom -  what nerve!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I should have known what the night ahead would hold as the  night started out bad when I sat down to get in the car next to the guy -- the  whole back zipper of my strapless dress split -- ALL the way down to my waist!   I had to go back in the house and get my friends' mom to sew the zipper closed  right on my body -- we carried on with dinner, the dance, etc., but at the end  of the night I cut off the dumb dress and threw it away!!!  It was a sign of  something I wanted to forget! You can't tell that by looking at the pictures,  luckily!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So, to see now that the boys are conveniently 'cut out' of this  pic really drive that message home - ALL these years later -- it's the  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: arial;"&gt;friendships&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; that matter!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Have fun - prom go-ers!  Enjoy time with  your FRIENDS and take a MILLION pictures!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;T.D. Prom 1985&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-4911084579447467176?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/4911084579447467176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=4911084579447467176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/4911084579447467176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/4911084579447467176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/tds-prom-story.html' title='T.D.&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_VVc5CgSzI/AAAAAAAAAAY/sGpzFsPOTUI/s72-c/williamskeesler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-4930317879075255652</id><published>2008-04-03T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T11:10:10.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Linda's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was never much into the whole prom thing when I was in high school, but  my senior year my best friend and I decided that we should probably go to  at least one.  We chose to go with guys who were "just friends" to avoid  all the anxiety of "does he like me?", "will he kiss me?", "do I want him  to kiss me?", etc.  Some of our other friends decided to do the same thing  and we all agreed to meet up at the prom instead of arriving together.   My "date" and I got Chinese takeout and took it to Ide Adobe park to eat.   We wore just our regular clothes so we didn't have to worry about  getting dresses and suits dirty.  We had a great time, no pressure, just  laughing and having a good time.  Except there was this big black bird that  just would not leave us alone!  He kept squawking at us and swooping down to  try to get our food.  We would toss a few crumbs a distance away from us and  he would gobble that up and then look at us and keep squawking and swooping!  I think he ate more than we did.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;To avoid the big price tag of a formal, my mom made my dress and he wore  a suit he already had.  We figured the evening was more about the fun we  would have and not the clothes... plus we didn't have to worry that someone  else would be wearing the same thing!  My dress was a soft peach floral and  my hair, since it was the 80's, was feathered and locked in place with a lot  of hair spray.  His was too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;      &lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We met our friends there and had a total blast!  We all danced with  each other's "dates" and laughed and laughed... especially when I slipped on  a streamer and landed on my butt in the middle of the dance floor!  But  we were having such a great time I didn't care.  We stayed until the very  end and ended the evening by going to Shari's to eat.  It was such a  great evening... no pressure, no disappointments, just pure fun... one of  my favorite memories from high school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Linda, class of '83&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-4930317879075255652?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/4930317879075255652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=4930317879075255652' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/4930317879075255652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/4930317879075255652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/lindas-prom-story.html' title='Linda&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-8706716236023535746</id><published>2008-04-03T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T20:21:49.797-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jo's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;It was 1996, the year in which stamps  cost 32 cents, a gallon of gas was $1.22, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;DVD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;’s were  launched in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;Japan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;, EBay started its  online auctioning, and Jerry Maguire (Tom Cruise) had Renee Zellwiger at  “Hello”.  Yes, this was my year of my senior prom and what an event it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being an avid athlete in school, I was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt; able to get to any dances on time.  But this year was even better.  I had arrived after a softball tournament that  day with the most wonderful “farmer’s tan”. (Yes, you can get tan in the  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;San Francisco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt; fog). My  dress electric blue, my shoes more silver than a brand new quarter, and my hair  made crunchy by the mass amounts of hair spray. But regardless I was ready to  dance the night away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:130%;" &gt;Just having broken up with a boyfriend of two years, I had  met a new boy a few weeks before. He was an older boy (two years out of school), who I  thought would be the most fantastic date ever. Boy was I wrong. My date  insecure about the looks and stares of all the talk around him and I. He spent  the whole night talking to my one friend for security. He didn’t want to dance,  eat, or even hang in the social circles that surrounded each table.  It probably  didn’t help that my ex’s friends were staring him down the whole time. But  regardless it was about me and my friends and what a fun time we had.  The night  was long and the memories still to this day have forever been engraved in my  mind. Prom is what you make of it and we definitely had a good  time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:130%;" &gt;Jo Prom 1996&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-8706716236023535746?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/8706716236023535746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=8706716236023535746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/8706716236023535746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/8706716236023535746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/jos-prom-story.html' title='Jo&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-8790111215778139182</id><published>2008-04-03T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T08:59:40.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A.H.'s Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_ZQTJCgS0I/AAAAAAAAAAg/WRUTIECDkPI/s1600-h/04-03-2008+09%3B36%3B58PM.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_ZQTJCgS0I/AAAAAAAAAAg/WRUTIECDkPI/s320/04-03-2008+09%3B36%3B58PM.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185420310737865538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My prom was at Red Bluff High School in 1989.  I went with my senior  year boyfriend (who I actually continued to date after high school for about  4 years).  My dress was strapless silver and white, fitted along the  bodice and then ruffles at the bottom.  He had a white tux and I think a silver  tie and cummerbund.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My date, J.P., was on the high school baseball team and they were in  the playoffs that year.  Unfortunately, their playoff game was in Redding  the same day as prom, and I think they went into overtime.  I don't remember  if they won or not.  Anyway, by the time he got to Red Bluff, got dressed,  we did the whole family taking pictures gig, and went back up to Redding  for dinner, we didn't have time to eat at a real restaurant.  So we went  to Burger King drive thru and ate in his truck at the Kmart parking lot. He  had a black/dark grey Chevy Silverado step side. Those were cool then.  I remember feeling really disappointed about dinner, but what could I  do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So prom was at the Elks Lodge in Red Bluff. Ehorns took the photos.   I remember we danced a little bit, but not as much as I wanted.  J.P. was in  a different social clique than I was, so I was not friends with or even  that comfortable around the girls that came to prom with his friends.  So I  just kind of hung out by myself and with my date when he wasn't with his  buddies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Afterwards, we were supposed to go to someone's house for a party.   Somehow we had a bottle of vodka in the truck (I don't remember how it got  there), and as we were driving to the party, we were pulled over by a cop.  Since  my dress was so puffy at the bottom, I pretty much sat on the bottle of  vodka, trying to cover it with my dress while the officer talked to my  boyfriend. The officer never saw the vodka and we were on our way.  By that time though, it was late, we were relieved we didn't get caught, and just  skipped the party and went back to his house.  I stayed the night at his house  (yes, his parents were there and my parents knew), but nothing freaky happened.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;div  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So my overall memories of my prom are that it wasn't great, but it  wasn't all that bad either.  At least I had a date that I really liked and I  had fun getting dressed up and going.  But it wasn't a life changing  event either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A.H., Prom 1989&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-8790111215778139182?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/8790111215778139182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=8790111215778139182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/8790111215778139182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/8790111215778139182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/ahs-prom-story.html' title='A.H.&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_ZQTJCgS0I/AAAAAAAAAAg/WRUTIECDkPI/s72-c/04-03-2008+09%3B36%3B58PM.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8697057193819773728.post-8445886392788323348</id><published>2008-04-02T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T15:04:19.311-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tina's Prom Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_f3W5CgS1I/AAAAAAAAAAo/cFsMwsmoTZk/s1600-h/Tina+and+Cliff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_f3W5CgS1I/AAAAAAAAAAo/cFsMwsmoTZk/s320/Tina+and+Cliff.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185885468580924242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I went to winter formal with my first "real" boyfriend, Cliff. I bought my very first formal dress (besides flower girl dresses), a black slinky velvet number with a slit up the side and a pearl at the center of the bodice (still have the dress!). I was incredibly nervous, since this would be mine and Cliff's first actual date. Cliff wore a tux with a vest--it had a black and silver geometric design on it--very cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way he asked me to the dance was really funny. We had only dated a few weeks, and really just hung out together at school. One day, after the bell rang at the end of lunch we said our goodbyes and he walked out of the room to go to class. Suddenly, he came running back into the room, and shouted "Hey, Winter Formal! Are we going or not?" I nodded, surprised and thrilled that he wanted to go. He said "Thought so." and ran back out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend, Carrie, her sister Christy and I cooked dinner, pasta primavera (Carrie and I were in nutritional science that year and that dish had been an assignment. It was pretty tasty!) We ate at Carrie's house, the three of us and our dates plus our friend Leana and her date Chris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got photos taken first as we arrived, then danced all night. My feet hurt so much, and Cliff and I kissed until our lips were numb. Afterward we went to Denney's for a while, then to Chris's house and hung out until I had to be home. I thought that was the most amazing night ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tina, winter formal 1995&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8697057193819773728-8445886392788323348?l=mypromstory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/feeds/8445886392788323348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8697057193819773728&amp;postID=8445886392788323348' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/8445886392788323348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8697057193819773728/posts/default/8445886392788323348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mypromstory.blogspot.com/2008/04/tinas-prom-story.html' title='Tina&apos;s Prom Story'/><author><name>Tehama County Prom Project</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13018313247414239797</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_U4spCgSxI/AAAAAAAAAAM/1Y_sLu7vRRE/S220/Blue+Shoes.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ESYeDfB-hA8/R_f3W5CgS1I/AAAAAAAAAAo/cFsMwsmoTZk/s72-c/Tina+and+Cliff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
