<?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-6598937549597427410</id><updated>2011-07-28T02:12:51.521-04:00</updated><title type='text'>RIFLI Birthday Stories</title><subtitle type='html'>A project of writing, photographs, and books presented by RIFLI's Rochambeau ESL class.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kim</name><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>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6598937549597427410.post-7968415856164019598</id><published>2008-03-31T05:40:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T17:34:28.097-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthdays in Georgia</title><content type='html'>by Elena, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Georgia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the time of my childhood after War II when life was very difficult. I was 10 years old and my sister was 9. Almost nobody remembered one's birthday and no one celebrated. But I had an aunt (my father's sister) who was a pastry cook. My aunt's name is Nazik-Mamida. Mamida is my father's sister in Georgian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes Nazik-Mamida came to stay and spend the night with us. She was about 45 years old. She was not what one would call beautiful, but she was simple and had a nice face. She was always beautiful to me and my sister. Nazik-Mamida was a widow and had a married daughter. She simply loved all of our family. She never forgot my birthday. She brought big delicious cakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cake's name is “Feir Tale” and was decorated with chocolate roses from chocolate creams. Sponge cake was saturated in syrup. Candles were not put on top of the cake because money was always little. We were happy even without candles. The time was so difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the table there was only the cake “Feir Tale” and there sat a big samovar where there was boiling water. We drank tea and ate our delicious cake. My girlfriend knew about it and always came with her youngest sister. We waited with joy for my aunt. They were the happiest days that I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later there were birthdays with rich spreads on the table, but they were not as happy as in those days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To listen to this story read by Elena, &lt;a href="http://riflibirthdaystories.mypodcast.com/2008/03/Elena-94682.html"&gt;click here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4QUO_K5eI/AAAAAAAABts/AzoeTMqH4_k/s1600-h/Elena.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4QUO_K5eI/AAAAAAAABts/AzoeTMqH4_k/s200/Elena.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187601760583869922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Elena, age 22&lt;br /&gt;&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/6598937549597427410-7968415856164019598?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/7968415856164019598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=7968415856164019598' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/7968415856164019598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/7968415856164019598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday_28.html' title='Birthdays in Georgia'/><author><name>Kim</name><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/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4QUO_K5eI/AAAAAAAABts/AzoeTMqH4_k/s72-c/Elena.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6598937549597427410.post-1842330239130271196</id><published>2008-03-31T05:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:02:15.972-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My 60th Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Xi Tong, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;China&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday is October fourteenth. Last year I turned 60 years old. That birthday was special to begin, my daughter said, “Mom we will go to a restaurant and eat sea-food, is that ok with you?” ”Good  idea!” I said. “So, you and my father will first go to my house, we will all go together to the restaurant,” she said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day my husband and I went together to my daughter’s house. My son-in low is named Matthew, he opened the door. “Come in please!” he said. I think – “Why?” Then I saw my husband and Matt laugh. I saw the living room had many balloons suddenly. They were red, white, blue, pink and yellow. They tied a colored ribbon, very beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that moment appeared a lot of people, they were my friends oh they were my old friends, many people from China, many people are Americans. Oh they are my neighbor Lily, Mrs. Chen from Massachusetts (she is a singer), Laura Bell is my English teacher, she is 76 years old, she is very good teacher and my good friend. Lots people are Chinese they are from Beijing, Shanghai, Nanjing and Hong Kong. Deby is my American friend, now she is the company boss, she goes with me to learn Chinese, she went to Taiwan. Sometimes when we are together we talk in Chinese and English. Oh there were many children. They are Chinese but they are growing up in America, they speaking English very good, but some children don’t speak Chinese. My daughter arranged a lot of food. There was American food: bread, a salad, a sandwich, roast pork and fried fish. She baked a big cake I had seven candles on the cake. My friends altogether sang; happy birthday to you. Oh there were many flowers. I made a wish—that I will study English very good! This is very good party.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-1842330239130271196?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/1842330239130271196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=1842330239130271196' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/1842330239130271196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/1842330239130271196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday_7789.html' title='My 60th Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-1657155617235515992</id><published>2008-03-31T05:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:06:14.813-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Stories with My Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;by Francisca, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cape Verde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;My birthday is October eleventh. Here every yea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;r it is special because I celebrate with my family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I always like my Birthday stories so much, but not a big celebration. I like a small one. In America it is a little different from Cape Verde.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt; So&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;metimes over there, there isn't celebration.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I don't like parties because I'm very shy. I prefer a private birthday with my family: my husband and my children. I  enjoyed all of them. My husband and my children give me love, flowers, presents and cake with candles to blow out. Sometimes I  take the day off we go to  a restaurant. Each year my husband prepares a different surprise. Finally I pray and I say "God Bless you" for this day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;My son's  birthday is September 30th. He has celebrated  4 birthdays  together with his family. This day in the morning usually I give him big hug, because I am very happy to watch my son grow up. I spend a long time preparing. I invite his cousin to celebrate with us. We go to my sister's house, it is  beautiful and she is the owner. My apartment is small. I buy a birthday cake with candles to blow out for him, present, flowers with balloons. I cook food and than we celebrate and we have a lot of fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;To listen to this story read by Francisca, &lt;a href="http://riflibirthdaystories.mypodcast.com/2008/03/Francisca-94470.html"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNoSpacing"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-1657155617235515992?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/1657155617235515992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=1657155617235515992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/1657155617235515992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/1657155617235515992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday-stories.html' title='Birthday Stories with My Family'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-2108163589059353156</id><published>2008-03-31T05:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:38:11.182-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday in China</title><content type='html'>by Rui,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;China&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In China, the children's birthday is very important. In old China every family had many children. All families were big, big families. For the child's birthday, people ate Chinese sweet noodles. The noodles meant the child's life would be long. The sweetness meant the child would grow up with a good life. Everyone in the family ate noodles too. This means good wishes for the child. The mother cooks a lot of of Chinese  food. The family  eats a big dinner  together. They are very happy. Sometimes the child is surprised because he gets a very good gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in recent years, because every family only has one child, the child's birthday is generally held in a restaurant. Many people join, relatives and friends. Everyone gives good gifts to the child. The birthday has a lot of food, a big cake and candles. Then they play movies or play bowling. I think now the child is very happy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To listen to this story read by Rui, &lt;a href="http://riflibirthdaystories.mypodcast.com/2008/03/Rui-94678.html"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-2108163589059353156?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/2108163589059353156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=2108163589059353156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/2108163589059353156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/2108163589059353156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/birthday-in-china.html' title='Birthday in China'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-9143931182963986322</id><published>2008-03-31T05:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T09:08:14.430-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of My Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;by Ludmila, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Russia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My name is Ludmila. I am from Baku the capital of Azerbaijan. The history of Baku is very interesting. There are many parks, museums, theaters, and ancient buildings. Nature is beautiful in our area. In 1989 we were forced to move from Baku to Russia. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; My birthday is in the summer, on  August 17,1943. It's my favorite day of the year. Our family is very close. Our family is big. There are nine people in our family. I have a husband, a daughter, a son, a brother-in-law, a sister-in-law, a grandson, and two granddaughters. The name of my daughter is Natali. She and her husband Aydin, and their daughter Fidan and their son Alec live in Providence. The name of my son is Sergei. He and his wife Ann and their daughter Polina live in Russia. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; We have many albums with family photos. We celebrate our birthdays together. I like to cook, to bind, and sew. I like to cook some of my favorite foods. Today was special because I like it when we are together. We never quarrel. I like it when we are together, sitting at the table, drinking tea and watching T.V. That is so wonderful!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;To listen to this story read by Ludmila, &lt;a href="http://riflibirthdaystories.mypodcast.com/2008/03/Ludmila-94501.html"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4Q-O_K5fI/AAAAAAAABt0/mkoYzFVXnlM/s1600-h/Ludmila_Birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4Q-O_K5fI/AAAAAAAABt0/mkoYzFVXnlM/s200/Ludmila_Birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187602482138375666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-9143931182963986322?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/9143931182963986322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=9143931182963986322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/9143931182963986322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/9143931182963986322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/story-of-my-birthday.html' title='The Story of My Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4Q-O_K5fI/AAAAAAAABt0/mkoYzFVXnlM/s72-c/Ludmila_Birthday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6598937549597427410.post-4988632095894503758</id><published>2008-03-31T04:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T09:10:18.712-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of My Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Vladimir,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Russia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born in the capital of Azerbaijan, Baku. Baku is a very beautiful and big city. There are a lot of big buildings, wide streets, and charming parks. Baku is surrounded by the Caspian Sea, there is a beautiful view of the sea. The history of the city is very interesting. There are many parks, museums, theaters, ancient buildings and churches in the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday is in the winter, on January thirteenth, 1937. When I was five years old, the Second World War just started. It was a long war. A lot of people lived poor. It was a difficult time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was not enough food. At that time people could not even buy bread. They received a limited amount of bread. The first birthday I remember was when I was twelve years old. All the family gathered together even guests were there. The celebration of my birthday was memorable. On my birthday came my school friends. It was in 1949.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our country in this time it was difficult with food and clothes. Our family was big. We never quarreled for a long time. There are six people in my family. In the summer of 1995 my daughter Natali and her husband Aydin with their little girl Fidan arrived in the USA. They came to Providence, Rhode Island. Soon they had a son Alec. He is five years old now. In the year 2005 my wife and I came to Providence to help our daughter. My wife and I also have a son Sergey. My son lives in Russia Our son Sergey is thirty-six years old now. My wife and I like to live in the USA. The USA is a very beautiful country. We like how people live in the USA. We celebreated our birthdays in the USA twice. This is in 2006 and 2007. There are a lot of excellent and benevolent people living here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks a lot for a hearty acceptance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To listen to this story read by Vladimir, &lt;a href="http://riflibirthdaystories.mypodcast.com/2008/03/Vladimir-94690.html"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4RrO_K5gI/AAAAAAAABt8/L6LDAS77PC0/s1600-h/Vladimir_Birthday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4RrO_K5gI/AAAAAAAABt8/L6LDAS77PC0/s200/Vladimir_Birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187603255232488962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-4988632095894503758?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/4988632095894503758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=4988632095894503758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/4988632095894503758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/4988632095894503758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/story-of-my-birthday_28.html' title='The Story of My Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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/_nbqZjEfZoAI/R_4RrO_K5gI/AAAAAAAABt8/L6LDAS77PC0/s72-c/Vladimir_Birthday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6598937549597427410.post-805100729486369446</id><published>2008-03-31T04:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:21:11.099-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Juan's Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Juan,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Colombia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My  birthday is on October first. I was born in 1960. My birthday is the same every year, because in my family there are four brothers and  a sister.  For my parents, my sister was important; this sister is  between the brothers. She was unique.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she was younger the celebration games had a special balloon that had paper inside where it was hollow. Inside it had candies, streamers, little paper and money in bills. The game was to beat up the balloon with a stick. The eyes are covered for not seeing. The balloon was hanging from the ceiling. It was broken by the stick. This game is called "PINATA.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this party, we distributed cake, soda, food and liquor and we danced. In my house on this day the dinner was  special with soda and cakes with candles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;To listen to this story read by Juan, &lt;a href="http://riflibirthdaystories.mypodcast.com/2008/03/Juan-94685.html"&gt;click here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-805100729486369446?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/805100729486369446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=805100729486369446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/805100729486369446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/805100729486369446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/juans-birthday.html' title='Juan&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-7615753348821630317</id><published>2008-03-31T04:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:03:04.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rahana's Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Rahana, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bangladesh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born in Bangladesh. I was born 01/29. When I was a little girl I had a medium size doll. I liked it, it was nice. It had many dresses . I had dresses. My name is Rahana. I am from Bangladesh. My country is very small. I like my country.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-7615753348821630317?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/7615753348821630317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=7615753348821630317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/7615753348821630317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/7615753348821630317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday.html' title='Rahana&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-3490989154884762909</id><published>2008-03-31T04:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:43:03.771-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Fatima,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Morocco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming Soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-3490989154884762909?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/3490989154884762909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=3490989154884762909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/3490989154884762909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/3490989154884762909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday_709.html' title='My Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-649530807840360934</id><published>2008-03-31T04:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:41:22.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Stories</title><content type='html'>by Xi Ting,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Taiwan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The birthday is a very joyful day. Most people love their birthday, because everyone can eat delicious cake, accept presents and have a party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my 24-year-old birthday arrived, my boyfriend gave me a ring as my birthday gift. I was very happy and pleasantly surprised. I thought that he made an offer of marriage to me. Finally, he said that he was falling love with another girl. I was very shocked at that time. I asked him why did you give me a ring? He said it was just a gift and for the end of our relationship. I said "Oh, my god." I was really sad and depressed. I thought that birthday was really an unforgettable memory in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I married. I feel I am very happy, my husband loves me very much. Last year my husband worked in the U.S.A, I still stayed in Taiwan. I thought that I will have a lonely birthday, but my husband came back to Taiwan just for my birthday. That was a big surprise. My husband come back to see me, that was a perfect gift for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-649530807840360934?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/649530807840360934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=649530807840360934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/649530807840360934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/649530807840360934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/birthday-stories.html' title='Birthday Stories'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-7100820758885699703</id><published>2008-03-31T03:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:04:03.507-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday in America</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;by Toufik, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Morocco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;On my birthday I go to the supermarket I buy cake candles and drinks. In the afternoon I go to the hair dresser to have my hair cut and to have a shave. Then I go to the mall. I buy some clothes. By 8 o'clock my friends start coming and every one brings me gifts there's music dancing and food. My friend and I make Moroccan food like couscous  and I buy American food also. We listen to all kinds of music especially Arabic music.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 150%;" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&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/6598937549597427410-7100820758885699703?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/7100820758885699703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=7100820758885699703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/7100820758885699703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/7100820758885699703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/by-toufik-morocco-on-my-birthday-i-go.html' title='Birthday in America'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-3302516188019450103</id><published>2008-03-31T03:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T08:44:07.948-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Jieshan,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;China&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming Soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-3302516188019450103?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/3302516188019450103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=3302516188019450103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/3302516188019450103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/3302516188019450103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday_4913.html' title='My Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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-6598937549597427410.post-1355423681360636361</id><published>2008-03-31T03:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T08:04:55.582-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday</title><content type='html'>by Hicham,  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Morocco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday is May 22, 1975. This is the year of my country's Independence from Spain. Also my grand-father died. I think that this year 1975 is good for my country and bad for my family...My birthday in the United States I think is different because my big family is not here but I have my small family more of a friend family. On this day I will invite all my friends. My wife will make a big cake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6598937549597427410-1355423681360636361?l=riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/feeds/1355423681360636361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6598937549597427410&amp;postID=1355423681360636361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/1355423681360636361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6598937549597427410/posts/default/1355423681360636361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://riflibirthdaystories.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-birthday_31.html' title='My Birthday'/><author><name>Kim</name><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>
