tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11336839483968725832024-03-18T22:04:16.665-05:00Diary of a Very Silly WomanI love to laugh (long and loud and clear)! But, if you're like me (and you should be) you don't laugh enough. Hopefully, this blog will help. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-17041138426734022622016-01-13T08:27:00.001-06:002016-01-13T09:04:32.071-06:00Why I use Young Living Essential Oils...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My friend Stephanie likes to say I sat through my first Young Living essential oils class with my arms folded and a skeptical look on my face. She is not wrong. I'd tried oils before from Whole Foods and had very limited results. The idea of paying more, and "getting roped into" a network marketing "scheme" for something I wasn't sure really worked was not one I was excited about, but I was there to support my friend. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To skeptically support my friend as it turned out. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Over the next couple of weeks, I did a lot of reading and chatting with my friend about oils. The more I read about the ethics of the business, their very different (read: not aggressive or money-centric) marketing ideology, and testimony after testimony about how these oils blessed people's lives...I finally decided to take the plunge and get a <a href="http://bit.ly/1OIDZyg" target="_blank">starter kit</a> for myself. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Within the very first week my insomnia was gone and the bouts of anxiety I'd been having at work were dramatically diminished.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoE1yil7r8WUDYVVnVIOGoifZXUMBv2Hi-IpzM3Bb__5ZVd8oVGSH5MA_OP94pVreers3aX7AP-j5PqasQVc5g430d_-o4ZxeOZm14UQOmbV_Lly7HcLkQIF_F9Xwi11_Z161XYKhnFE/s1600/12112166_10153736458978274_6738446181355902545_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoE1yil7r8WUDYVVnVIOGoifZXUMBv2Hi-IpzM3Bb__5ZVd8oVGSH5MA_OP94pVreers3aX7AP-j5PqasQVc5g430d_-o4ZxeOZm14UQOmbV_Lly7HcLkQIF_F9Xwi11_Z161XYKhnFE/s200/12112166_10153736458978274_6738446181355902545_n.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">I began talking to everyone about these oils and how they'd blessed me. But, with one full time job and another part time job already, I had no desire to sell them...yet, people started asking me about them just the same. Eventually, my friend suggested I have a class. I blew her off at least three times. I didn't want to sell to my friends. I didn't want to be one of "those people." Yet, I continued to share my experiences with the oils and even share samples of the oils with friends and family. I couldn't help it!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUomBvRyOA1d4oS3H-2ievu5_GBLRv9Tz8-nxlbxyHfngKs8DYCPXwAmDHOSgbk9JfyuNjZj54CXX1ZHYwxOZph7FIFGpLk3IJWubqIkn0C-YR6FVtLz20CPWlV9qIfIXSO21pysoptxk/s1600/10401223_10153906676263274_8458556419946723655_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUomBvRyOA1d4oS3H-2ievu5_GBLRv9Tz8-nxlbxyHfngKs8DYCPXwAmDHOSgbk9JfyuNjZj54CXX1ZHYwxOZph7FIFGpLk3IJWubqIkn0C-YR6FVtLz20CPWlV9qIfIXSO21pysoptxk/s320/10401223_10153906676263274_8458556419946723655_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">Since the class, A few people have actually ordered individual oils and kits from me and I've been able to help them figure out this crazy oil thing and get to know them better in the process, which has been great.</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(Hi, Mom...and Steph, Rosa, Teri, Amber, and Leann!)</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_rmpVfMbPwrViT4ICMYfIG_SjhYRI4W1fCTNQO9cAPYEzCZSS2OuYhUqbAzxShbmHMGnoiccEg2kjoaq7VkdpQSh7vqg2ksPLnk1d2jp2HamyMU5_wacAGqXft8GP-DHOkRLAgSCR1o/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_rmpVfMbPwrViT4ICMYfIG_SjhYRI4W1fCTNQO9cAPYEzCZSS2OuYhUqbAzxShbmHMGnoiccEg2kjoaq7VkdpQSh7vqg2ksPLnk1d2jp2HamyMU5_wacAGqXft8GP-DHOkRLAgSCR1o/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">What gives me even more security in sharing these oils and even selling them a little bit is knowing that they really do help people live better, healthier, happier lives <u>and</u> that the company is one that can absolutely be trusted. Unlike several other network marketing companies, Young Living is accredited and highly rated with the Better Business Bureau. I can attest to their superior and generous customer service, a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">s well. Because of this, I have no hesitation in saying...if you've been thinking about oils Young Living is the best choice hands down. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;">Whether you get them from me or not. Just get them. They are, quite literally, the best. :) What's more...there are no strings attached. You don't have to meet a monthly order quota. There's no membership or cancellation fees. It's just "if you love the oils and want to keep using them, we'll give you discounts and perks to help you do that. If not, good luck and godspeed!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12.8px;">Looking back now, I kind of feel silly for hesitating at all. I sat in that class exhausted, anxious, sad, plagued by migraines, and generally feeling defeated and unable to pray. Now, I actually have energy, my anxiety is situational and momentary, I'm sleeping through the night just about every night, I've had maybe 2 migraines (and both were brought on by bad choices on my part the day before), and I can pray again. To say that the price of the <a href="http://bit.ly/1OIDZyg" target="_blank">starter kit</a> seems small in comparison to all I've gained would be a gross understatement.<br /><br />If you feel like you just have to suffer through not sleeping, anxiety, headaches, or just generally feeling run-down all the time, I'm here to tell you, YOU DON'T! There is something you can do to take back some control over your health and well-being...and get to living the joyful, abundant lives we were created to live.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I'd love to be a part of that...so, if that all sounds amazing to you, then let me know and we'll get started.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">-t</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-74345847947721197112015-08-21T10:39:00.004-05:002015-08-21T11:19:45.106-05:00Thoughts on the Response to "Churchless in the Crescent City"Last week, I <a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2015/08/churchless-in-crescent-city.html" target="_blank">published a blog post</a> I'd been writing for a few months. It began, really, as a way for me to think through the thoughts and feelings I'd been having regarding church and relationships and, of course, singleness, because, lets just have this said: when you're single for an extended period of time, pretty much everything is about being single. Relationships, social situations, work, family, church, taking out the trash, financial decisions, grocery shopping, weekend plans, birthdays, holidays, Facebook posts, retirement plans, dieting, your period, movie choices, how to use 2-for-1 coupons...everything. But, that's another post for another day.<br />
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After posting "<a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2015/08/churchless-in-crescent-city.html" target="_blank">Churchless</a>", I was surprised and overwhelmed by the responses. So many, married and not, young and old, introverts and extroverts shared that they were right there with me, feeling disconnected, alone, adrift...and pretty confused and conflicted about it all. As I read the comments and private messages, a picture formed in my mind of people all walking the same road, together but alone. All they could see was the long, lonely road ahead...not the people traveling it with them. What I got from that mental picture was:<br />
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1. We, none of us, are really alone, and<br />
2. Loneliness can be isolating.<br />
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That second point might seem redundant and maybe not make a lot of sense upon first reading, but track with me for a minute on this. I think we can agree that loneliness is a relative, subjective thing. What makes one feel lonely and the degree to which one feels it and is impacted by it varies from person to person. To be sure, the way I experience loneliness as a single woman in my early 40s is different from the experience of a teenage boy or a widowed person or a Stay-at-Home mom or a business man who travels frequently. Each person "wears" loneliness differently, but one thing, I think, is certain: <b>our response to loneliness can isolate us, even simultaneously as we make efforts to keep ourselves from being isolated</b>. Whether it is someone who feels sad or angry about their loneliness and becomes hyper-sensitive or another who tries to vomit's a week's worth of internal dialogue on someone who dared to ask "How are you?" or the person who sits in a corner/at home waiting for someone to reach out to them, the result is that their experience or reaction to loneliness only makes it more pronounced.<br />
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The degree of difficulty in reversing the "loneliness effect" increases because, often, the lonely person is unaware of how detrimental their behavior is.<br />
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So, I say again, loneliness (no matter the cause) can be isolating.<br />
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I also say again, we, none of us, is really, truly alone.<br />
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Admittedly, that is of little comfort when your house is empty or the calls and invites and interaction on social media or in the work place is almost non-existent, but, it is nonetheless true.<br />
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<b>So, what I've taken away from this whole experience by way of application is this: Go with the go-ers and keep reaching out.</b><br />
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I think if any of us really look at the people around us, there will be at least one that makes an effort, that always responds positively to opportunities to meet or chat or visit. Even if they aren't your age, even if they aren't able to be as connected as you want or need to be, invest in them anyway.<br />
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<b>You never know what could grow and blossom if but for a little watering</b>.<br />
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If you weren't already in the habit of reaching out to others before, or if you (like me) reach out and reach out and the response seems lukewarm at best...keep at it for the same reason I gave above. It will be hard and frustrating and sometimes hurtful, but the adage about having to kiss a few frogs first applies to friendships, too. (wink)<br />
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<a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2015/08/churchless-in-crescent-city.html" target="_blank">In my previous post</a>, I mentioned that I'd reached out to several women in my small groups and none of them resulted in a bestie. While I still don't have that, the reaching out led to a friendship that is in the process of potentially blossoming. She is younger than me, but married with kids and at the time I first extended friendship to her, she was very much needing a friend. We enjoy the time we are able to visit in person and are both invested in keeping up with each other as much as our busy lives will allow. If I hadn't reached out to her, the friendship wouldn't have happened. While we aren't BFFs, and while having a social circle of people like me (of both sexes) is my ideal, I'm grateful for a human person who wants to spend time with me on purpose.<br />
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Finally, to round things out, I have a story about a person who actually reached out to me. Like my friend above, this person wasn't my age (though I was the younger this time) and our lives were very different, but we did have a few things in common like Jesus and our sarcastic sense of humor. Again, we aren't "attached at the hip" or anything, but she is consistent and thoughtful and honest, and for a while there recently, felt like my only friend in the world.<br />
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<b>I'm grateful for both of these ladies, even more so now, and have determined within myself to water these friendships more instead of wishing I could find friends more like myself.</b><br />
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To bring it all back around now...I think, perhaps, this revelation prompted by the responses I got to <a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2015/08/churchless-in-crescent-city.html" target="_blank">my last post</a>, might combine to be the "equation change" I said I was praying for, allowing me to venture back into church again. Maybe. Hopefully. <b>Because, now I know that though the ages and marital statuses and dress sizes don't reflect it, there are a lot more people there like me than I originally thought.</b><br />
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In closing, I'd just like to add a big <b>"THANK YOU"</b> to everyone who read the post (almost 300 of you) and especially to those who took the time to encourage me or share their experiences. It meant so much. I think I teared up as I read each one. Please know that I am praying for "us" to find meaningful relationships and that we will find the courage to "go with the go-ers" and keep reaching out and extending friendship to others.<br />
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-t<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-67744334870480947022015-08-11T16:46:00.001-05:002015-08-11T16:46:39.428-05:00Churchless in the Crescent CityI haven't been to church in over a year.<br />
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That is really difficult to type. If someone had told me a year or two ago that there would come a time where not being in church regularly would be "normal" for me, I would have given them a "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" look and probably a "Psh! Have you met me?!?!" as I walked away laughing and shaking my head at all the nonsense.</div>
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Yet, here I am, 12+ months of virtually no church. I've visited a few places in that time, but there've been too few Sunday's that actually included church to really count them. Prior to that, I had lapsed into this sort of twice-a-month routine of church going, plus small group. I was always very active in my small group no matter what. Prior to that, maybe as much as 5 years ago, I was an "every time the door was open" church-goer. I was involved in many outreaches and ministries and showed up to participate in or serve at church-wide events. I even lugged my small nieces and nephews along with me, navigating car seats and diaper bags and toddlers on hips like a seasoned single mom. I greeted. I handled the calendars and communications for my small groups. I served in the nursery. I sang with the worship team. I had "my seat" and sat there Sunday after Sunday without fail.</div>
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So, what happened? </div>
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Sigh.</div>
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A lot of things.</div>
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1. My church changed. From the time I joined until now, it has probably tripled in size. We went from one small building where everyone knew each other, to a 1000 seat auditorium where you could go weeks without seeing someone simply because they sat on the opposite side of the room. The growth also had an impact on and caused leadership to rethink how they did small groups (which were no longer working). Over time, the connectedness and sense of family I had turned into a group of people I sat in a building with once a week and maybe "saw" on Facebook now and again.<br />
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2. I got older. I had always been on the older end of the single spectrum, but over time, I became a veritable anomaly. In fact, there was really only one other lady close to my age who was also still single. My previously single friends married and moved on to motherhood and babies. I was thrilled for them, but their friendship needs and limited time led to me being phased out of their lives. Their friends were now the mothers of the kids their kids liked to play with or that also home schooled or who had kids at the same school.<br />
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3. Life happened. Despite the whole "lone ranger single" thing, I did have some remaining friendships with people who were married. Some of them had been friends from the beginning of my time at the church. I had roots with them. They knew my stuff. I knew theirs. We'd been in the trenches together...and done a fair amount of laughing, too. But, over time, my people all went away. Some changed churches, others moved away for work or family reasons and I was left having to start over again...in a large church...full of younger, married people, most of which had grown up with or were related to one another. It was fun. :/<br />
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4. I failed to make new friends. As I mentioned earlier, I was always active in my small groups. I always made efforts to get to know all of the ladies in the group and had at least one or two one-on-ones with each of them. I don't know why...maybe I talked too much, maybe I talked too little, maybe I had B.O. that day, or maybe I didn't fit into their existing friendship circle...but almost none of them resulted in any sort of mutual friendship. If we saw each other again, it was because I extended an invitation. If we communicated in any way, I was the initiator. For the better part of 5 years, I extended friendship and, for the most part, was kept in the acquaintance zone. Finally, I gave up on Operation: Find New People.<br />
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5. My feelings won the day. After 5 years of loss and change and pretty intense loneliness, I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt like I didn't fit anywhere. I expected to feel that way everywhere else, but not at church. It got to the point that I'd dread going to church, knowing I'd walk in, sit through service and leave alone, and then choke back tears on the way home. I didn't really think anyone was shunning me on purpose (though I confess, I did sometimes wonder if I was "one of THOSE people" that makes people run away from them for one reason or another) but it was hard not to take it personally. I tried to make friends, to be a friend, to pray for and follow-up with people; I tried to serve more; I tried to strike up convos before or after church. Yet, still, unless I reached out to someone, I had virtually no contact with anyone. And, so, the better part of the last year of my regular church attendance was filled with many absences and pleading with the Lord to show me my place at this church or lead me to a place where I did fit in. Finally, during worship one Sunday in April of last year, I felt the Lord release me to visit other churches. Not to run away...that was not my heart at all...just to step out and see what might be. I broke down. I sobbed quietly in my seat all through service. Alone. I left wiping tears. No one stopped me. Then, I emailed the leadership to let them know what was going on.<br /><br />I'd like to end this by saying that upon stepping out and seeing how the Lord would lead, I found a great place and made new friends and am growing in the Lord with them. But, that is not the case. Shortly after stepping out and visiting, I had a house fire and my life was turned upside down for 6 months. I did continue to visit a few places, and go back to "my church" from time to time...but still just don't feel like I fit anywhere, in fact, all I've really seen is a big underscore beneath the reasons why I don't fit anywhere. I'm too old. I'm too fat. I'm too single. I'm too "whatever that thing is that kept me from making friends before."<br />
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Now, I can hear you fussing me in your head "that's not what church is about." You're not completely wrong. I know this. I know the primary purpose of church is to be taught and encouraged and to humble ourselves in worship with other believers. But, we are also called to gather together and to fellowship and to edify each other with songs, hymns and spiritual songs, to bear one another's burdens, to serve one another, to rejoice when others rejoice and grieve with them when they grieve. I.E. we are called to have meaningful, godly friendships. And, I would also say...if you can't even manage to pee alone, then you don't know what it is like to be alone in everything...and, thanks to Facebook, watch all these people you know and care about doing life together, without you.<br />
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I don't blame my church for growing and changing. It isn't their fault that growth didn't include an abundance of singles closer to my age...or a husband. My pastors preached the word faithfully. The worship songs were well chosen and soul-stirring. The ministries were set up to serve the vast majority of people in an intentional and thoughtful way.<br />
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I don't blame the people I tried to befriend for having other friends. They are good people and I don't expect to be everyone's cup of tea. Though, I would expect to be someone's, if I'm honest.<br />
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All that to say, when I started visiting other churches, I didn't go in with a bitter heart or trying to find "better" people or "better ministries". I just wanted to not feel like that one puzzle piece you just can't find a place for anymore.<br />
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I stepped out hopeful. I wanted to believe that the demographics would be more in my favor elsewhere. They weren't. In fact, the average age in most of the churches I visited was younger than "my church"...and they were less culturally diverse. I also found that the sermons were crafted appropriately to speak to the demographic, i.e. people who were 15-20 years younger than me and, for the most part new believers or just returning to the church. The worship, also, was a bit more seeker-sensitive than I was used to. I didn't hear much about Jesus or anything that reminded me of the debt that was paid for me. I saw no reverence or joy on the faces. No hands raised. No tears being wiped away...including my own. It was just very sad to me.<br />
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My visiting wasn't all bad. I did find one place that was full of kind, joyful people with a heart to serve and were pretty culturally diverse, but again, the demographic and content was me 15-20 years ago, not me today.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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I don't like where I am. I miss "church" desperately. I know I'm being disobedient by not going. But, going just to go when really I am just afraid of being alone and miserable in a crowd of 800 people again keeps me hitting that snooze button every Sunday.<br />
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I don't want to stay "here" but I don't know what to do...and I don't feel like I have many options.<br />
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Until something in that equation changes, I guess I'll continue to be home on Sunday mornings.<br />
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For my part, I am praying for an equation change.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-62318510299967931532014-09-30T21:40:00.001-05:002014-09-30T21:41:49.207-05:00#100daysofHomelessness<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">**Weird Milestone Alert**</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yesterday marked 100 days of
"homelessness" for me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For those of you who don't know, I'm
not homeless in a "living under a bridge" kind of way, but still
homeless in a very real sense. 100 days ago, there was a fire in the place I'd
called "home" for nearly 5 years and I've been displaced ever since. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A few BEFORE photos:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7_rpXygrSTcylOgNmC6La85I5SVeLgNZ0tnnu27Mzu9u3OPQWSOXHywLfe9YxIKo4SyPTb9G7RbdDHvkbbAanNywNRBdQ9JjqY6256dqgC7N09GGhSfSvJ6rzIChe_4qm2XO35B_XWA/s1600/photo+(40).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7_rpXygrSTcylOgNmC6La85I5SVeLgNZ0tnnu27Mzu9u3OPQWSOXHywLfe9YxIKo4SyPTb9G7RbdDHvkbbAanNywNRBdQ9JjqY6256dqgC7N09GGhSfSvJ6rzIChe_4qm2XO35B_XWA/s1600/photo+(40).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZ5pMK3QbE3d2dgHLi1XODCcXgYExKuzyTmgRheFPufSFyU0Uc-ZQqwevqfFmdf5-0C-Uk2nwYIBLWFbOSNKJDDQUPDROAPRiJlcz4lGRlh5UVSBUsFfSr6yzNLKsxfMlRnu61mKLc5E/s1600/kitchen+before.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZ5pMK3QbE3d2dgHLi1XODCcXgYExKuzyTmgRheFPufSFyU0Uc-ZQqwevqfFmdf5-0C-Uk2nwYIBLWFbOSNKJDDQUPDROAPRiJlcz4lGRlh5UVSBUsFfSr6yzNLKsxfMlRnu61mKLc5E/s1600/kitchen+before.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2N4dXPLYkBYjYcWBaQ5db76ZU4ML11rSenMUH0FqDrYZTFSCOgIcjhHagBZXbGy5MltoggxbFzuUnmoHI_CE3Z_p10-r-9V5VNYvU1qZQH146D9kF9uSiq3Rkr78jTpfuptKGE9E-HYI/s1600/bedroom+before+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2N4dXPLYkBYjYcWBaQ5db76ZU4ML11rSenMUH0FqDrYZTFSCOgIcjhHagBZXbGy5MltoggxbFzuUnmoHI_CE3Z_p10-r-9V5VNYvU1qZQH146D9kF9uSiq3Rkr78jTpfuptKGE9E-HYI/s1600/bedroom+before+(2).jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd just finished about a year of painting and redecorating before the fire...getting the place exactly how I wanted it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And...AFTER:</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZU37funlgpjb9WlgTEZh7Phu7GcL0KsD86DMGndEwzqGDeQetzdFX-4xPYgqAxXI8waMJMP5E9c2FF2_uwNs5C4brF4WlwP1s5sG8cPYSr5QDz24vNaUK3oXmyJn2ktHRtDfwzyZHhpQ/s1600/10407844_10152566517688274_6445760831969874199_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZU37funlgpjb9WlgTEZh7Phu7GcL0KsD86DMGndEwzqGDeQetzdFX-4xPYgqAxXI8waMJMP5E9c2FF2_uwNs5C4brF4WlwP1s5sG8cPYSr5QDz24vNaUK3oXmyJn2ktHRtDfwzyZHhpQ/s1600/10407844_10152566517688274_6445760831969874199_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, so...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I lived in a hotel for the first two months, which was equal parts weird and
difficult with a smattering of awesome, like someone making your bed every day.
#winning. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd03LRQXGXtAVkVpYP5NF114iAvXcr4nM5e2XYt_jqDdOEsuK9NdqNkdnkAhZ49xp1XlThsMqcLrnnoUacVNba7k00Y98qyK6rslSv13UoS3_bDNwcSH-GR79XJuJmWgyXmWM6z_vaQS4/s1600/hotel.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd03LRQXGXtAVkVpYP5NF114iAvXcr4nM5e2XYt_jqDdOEsuK9NdqNkdnkAhZ49xp1XlThsMqcLrnnoUacVNba7k00Y98qyK6rslSv13UoS3_bDNwcSH-GR79XJuJmWgyXmWM6z_vaQS4/s1600/hotel.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This month, I've been in a corporate apartment, which is mostly a
downgrade from where I was with three exception: a King Size bed, a soaker tub,
and a washer/dryer just for me.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMqq7_Py6Itl8TVvhnXIkIOniNSgGdSxaWxiBFLQiWUos7937mGT45Hfp-Ys5TnB7hrRioGWcO0zWxyhuMB4Yk7KQLjOwntTmEr4IEwOoCmja9ToI2bbhfHNDVEonoeIJj0xJmZ9HPuE/s1600/bathtub.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMqq7_Py6Itl8TVvhnXIkIOniNSgGdSxaWxiBFLQiWUos7937mGT45Hfp-Ys5TnB7hrRioGWcO0zWxyhuMB4Yk7KQLjOwntTmEr4IEwOoCmja9ToI2bbhfHNDVEonoeIJj0xJmZ9HPuE/s1600/bathtub.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On the surface, one might be tempted to
think this whole thing has been like an extended, paid vacation.</span></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It hasn't.</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There have been many blessings in the
midst of this, of course, and things I've enjoyed, but, it's also altered the
way I do life (at least for the time being) and had some unexpected
side-effects that have been kind of difficult. So, to commemorate this not-so-auspicious
occasion and have a little something to look back on later and feel thankful
for "all the way the Lord has led me"...I give you a few fun facts
about being homeless, kinda.</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1. You eat a lot more pasta, probably
more than is reasonable. When your life is in a tizzy, but you still want to be
“responsible” and cook instead of doing drive-thru every night, there's not
much easier than boiling water and waiting 10 minutes for dinner to be ready.
Plus, it's super cheap. So, my homeless go-to dinner was buttered noodles or
Kraft Mac & Cheese. Is the "homeless 15" a thing? If not, it is
now. Officially.</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2. It takes you three times longer to
do pretty much everything. Because you're basically living out of a suitcase,
in unfamiliar surroundings, and all of your routines are just a jumble of you
trying to put pieces of your old routine together into a new routine. But, you
have to think before you reach for/do anything...every time. Where is my purse
today? Where are my clean underwear? Do I put sunscreen on before or after
moisturizer? (As you're putting on lipstick) Did I brush my teeth? (Gathers items
needed for a task and begins only to remember one crucial item is in another
room) Dangit! Why am I such an idiot these days?</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3. You forget, misplace, drop, fall
behind in, and generally mess things up...a lot...consequently, feeling like an
idiot and a mess most of the time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4. You're also often late for things,
even though you'd normally be 15 minutes early.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5. You're tired more often. Problems
sleeping out, uncomfortable beds, foreign noises and upstairs neighbors who are
either sleep walkers or have very tiny bladders all conspire against your
sleep. If you manage to make it through your homelessness without hallucinating
or having a total nervous breakdown from sleep deprivation, consider yourself
very fortunate...and totally primed to have a newborn or a puppy in your new
home, once you find one.</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6. You really, really miss that old
mattress you wanted to replace right before it was carted off to storage with
98% of your other worldly possessions. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">7. You really, really miss your
vanity/morning getting ready routine.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">8. Moving your few remaining
possessions around from place to place is not fun and you often contemplate
tossing most of it out just to avoid having to pack and haul it all again.</span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">9. You realize you don't need as much
stuff as you thought you did...except when it comes to makeup and skincare, then
you always need more.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">10. You learn that you are far more
adaptable than you realized.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">11. You come to believe completely and passionately,
that Insurance Companies are, in fact, the Devil, and Insurance Adjusters
probably have to sell their souls just like Keanu Reeves in that lawyer movie
with Al Pacino. (#slightexaggerationforeffect)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">12. For so many reasons, you find that
everything cost more.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">13. You frequently calculate the
replacement cost of all of the things that couldn’t be stored or salvaged.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">14. You wish your job required a
uniform because then people wouldn’t bat an eye at you wearing the same outfit
over and over and over again. #has5outfitsrightnow</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">15. If you’re from the New Orleans
area, you feel that same sense of unease and loss and (#pressesbackofhandtoforeheadandtiltsheadback)
“whatever will become of me?!?!” that you had in the weeks following Hurricane
Katrina. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">16. You sigh a lot more.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">17. You have your first-ever panic
attack. It isn’t fun.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">18. You learn that you could REALLY get
used to having maid service.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">19. You may or may not become addicted
to Trolli Eggs. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">20. You take up making videos on
YouTube. For real! #science!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">21. No matter how much you try to get a
routine going and be normal, you just never, ever feel settled. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">22. You pretty much always wind up
crying at some point when talking to pushy vendors or insurance company reps.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">23. You realize that having a
dishwasher is a necessity, not a preference. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">24. You realize that most people will
forget you're homeless or think you're having some sort of fun extended vacation...and
find that that's kind of a bummer.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">25. You realize you can still be
hospitable and serve others, no matter what your “home” is/looks like.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">26. You become a bit more thankful for
the little things...when you're not being a whiney hiney, of course. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">27. Some of the things that were big
issues in your life prior to your homelessness, suddenly aren’t. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">28. Pedicures just never happen.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">29. You think about eating clean or
starting to exercise again, but those thoughts quickly get pushed aside by
weightier concerns like "where am I going to live?" and "how do
I get the insurance company to stop stressing me out?" and "Why does
the person who lives upstairs have to walk around so much...at 3am?!?!"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">30. You’re even more thankful for your
faith, without which, you’d certainly have become the hottest of hot messes
throughout this whole ordeal.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Life, as I knew it, is weirder and
harder and I don't know when it will settle down again, but, I do know this:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;"><b><span lang="EN" style="font-weight: normal;">“He knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I
shall come out as gold.” </span></b><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Job 23:10</span></span></div>
</blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-33941005354992922362014-08-06T23:27:00.000-05:002014-08-06T23:32:00.986-05:00#badbadthing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4-s2U82X5hY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
Hey y'all! As some of you know, I've recently started vlogging (video blogging)...in yoga pants. I'm also learning a bit more about how to edit videos and put them together in a way that is a bit more interesting. So, that's been fun. In this vlog, I talk about how my YouTube habit has resulted in a bit of a shopping habit and share the totally impulsive and unnecessary purchases I made during a recent trip to Target.<br />
<br />
Admit it, we've all be there, right? <br />
<br />
I also channel Minnie Pearl, play a bit of air guitar and sing my own personal cover of Corey Hart's "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night"...because I'm impressionable and old and stuff.<br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy it...and that you'll consider liking, commenting, and subscribing to my channel.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh7H47srCp4Q38n7MIDH7LQtOAcpr3OcV11b-Ih_JRdEDRBidpMNibFJp_RcfuRNuvqJ6xEd9tlJTb3wfr4qFNr_oQOQ185Aa59L24FVnXIzd2MQDoY8ESQDeoL7Tg0w4PoXQdNb9iIU/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-08-06+at+11.27.18+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLh7H47srCp4Q38n7MIDH7LQtOAcpr3OcV11b-Ih_JRdEDRBidpMNibFJp_RcfuRNuvqJ6xEd9tlJTb3wfr4qFNr_oQOQ185Aa59L24FVnXIzd2MQDoY8ESQDeoL7Tg0w4PoXQdNb9iIU/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-08-06+at+11.27.18+PM.png" height="199" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-75128464727087122412014-08-02T15:57:00.002-05:002014-08-02T15:57:49.642-05:00#fiveinfive<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/2Vgy6OsF14w" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />
<br /><br />
Yesterday, I posted my first vlog, listing a few of the hits and misses from my day. While I could do those types of things every day (I have a tiny critic living inside of me), I know no one else wants to hear what I think is wrong with everything all the time. SO, here are five things I was thankful for yesterday. The only thing I do better than mentally review/critique everything is be sappy...but I tried to keep that to a minimum, too. #yourewelcome<br /><br />
<div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-74302093546359243842014-08-01T15:22:00.001-05:002014-08-01T15:22:45.208-05:00#vlog"I'm a vlogger. I vlog."<br />
<br />
I recently discovered YouTube vloggers. For those of you who don't know what that is, its people who blog in words on video instead of typing out words. I've sort of collected a group of vloggers, primarily from the UK, into this little place in my heart. They're so fun and vibrant and living these amazing lives...taking me along for the ride. Anyway, I know I don't have nearly as much exciting stuff to offer the world as these other guys, but...I'm dipping my toe into the ocean of vlogging.<br />
<br />
"Eees for fun."<br />
<br />
If you don't have romantic feelings for make-up brushes, you may not want to watch.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://ytimg.googleusercontent.com/vi/cZLXN_JhT04/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/cZLXN_JhT04&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/cZLXN_JhT04&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-43599594364286462932014-07-09T10:26:00.000-05:002014-07-09T16:13:46.777-05:00#love/dontlove<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Over the past week or so, I've kind of become obsessed with a YouTube vlogger named <a class="g-profile" href="https://plus.google.com/104684993515466920335" target="_blank">+bitsandclips</a>. She has probably already contacted her lawyer to prepare a restraining order...even though she lives alllll the way across the country in a place called "Seattle." It's where all of the hipsters and coffee come from...and apparently, where aliens park their space ships for safe-keeping. (#MIBreference #seenit72000times)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">ANYway, sometimes vloggers do "tags" where they give their friends assignments like "What's in My Diaper Bag" or "50 things about me" or "Love/Hate". Since I don't currently vlog and don't have a YouTube friend to tag me, I'm just going to do one of the "tags" here in blog form. Did you follow all of that? #beholdtherunonsentence </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">And, since I don't have a diaper bag or nearly enough ambition to come up with 50 things about myself and no confidence that anyone would want to know that many things about me, anyway, I'm going to do the Love/Hate tag. However, I'm going to call it Love/Don't Love instead because my 9-year-old niece told me "hate" is a bad word and we shouldn't say it. ;) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">So, here's the list.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">I love (in no particular order)...</span><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Jesus. Deal with it. </span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaaWh6H6pfvXGp2HiiWKnyt_bB0pywRcZEipUbj5EZpKSG8Z9tjawVQbcY8AwXVlneG1QIFTeqPP3ZqBvYGhvE6cygF8wTPY1CD9z8wa9Rec_THD0O1DUnF5BRB0yIwXBIXp57lr7cy8/s1600/worship.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcaaWh6H6pfvXGp2HiiWKnyt_bB0pywRcZEipUbj5EZpKSG8Z9tjawVQbcY8AwXVlneG1QIFTeqPP3ZqBvYGhvE6cygF8wTPY1CD9z8wa9Rec_THD0O1DUnF5BRB0yIwXBIXp57lr7cy8/s1600/worship.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Me, singing to my Savior. #happyplace</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Just kidding. But, honestly, I know there are people out there that think I'm stupid or weak or uneducated or ignorant or judgmental or naive because I'm a Christian and that's ok. I mean, it's not fun for people to think that, or speak that, or give you that look that might as well be words that say that. But, I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes think unflattering things about people who don't agree with me or live life the way I do. It's in us to compare and contrast ourselves against others, for whatever reason, and, of course, to always think we are right. Nevertheless, I love Jesus and I love you even though we're not the same...unless you're really mean/violent person or hurt my family. But, that's for the other list...</span></div>
</div>
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My family. We're awesome. You want to be us. You just do. It's ok.</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://i1.ytimg.com/vi/dz8_TrKoSt4/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="https://www.youtube.com/v/dz8_TrKoSt4?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/v/dz8_TrKoSt4?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object> </span></div>
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">All things British...except the food. But, since I <a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2014/07/anglophile.html" target="_blank">just blogged about that</a>, I won't repeat why, here. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Coffee. I love coffee with my bible in the wee hours of the morning. I love coffee in the afternoons, mostly because it reminds me of being in my grandma's kitchen. I love coffee at night because I usually have it with friends and that's always lovely. I just love coffee. It's warm and comforting and is like a hug in a cup.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Going to the beach. The breeze, the sand, the colors, the intertwined sound of the waves coming in and going out along with the birds and the wind...it just sounds and smells like peace to me. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Bald guys. I blame Yul Brynner for this. If you've never watched the version of "The King & I" with he and Deborah Kerr (and why wouldn't you have already?!?!), do it. The. Dancing. Scene. Holy hot flashes, Batman. Oh. My. Goodness. Whew. I have a "moment" every time I see it. Ever since first "discovering" him and this movie, I love me a tall, strongly-built bald dude. #fansself</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tnW_gIxdCtUbttRL8tngY-vVH_68NCFuKbAzSGhoxXN58p4iWFMwwKMxkdJYKRqR6shdaPKR8UmTJzPNGzs0vddm780rYHLPBaerH9PnRkLc2LkSoqlBTJpD-Un2o_ezLeArSiTbWAA/s1600/baldy2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7tnW_gIxdCtUbttRL8tngY-vVH_68NCFuKbAzSGhoxXN58p4iWFMwwKMxkdJYKRqR6shdaPKR8UmTJzPNGzs0vddm780rYHLPBaerH9PnRkLc2LkSoqlBTJpD-Un2o_ezLeArSiTbWAA/s1600/baldy2.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></span></div>
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Lists. I love writing things down and scratching them off. I am doing it right now. The rush of accomplishment I feel when I finish scratching off all the things on my list-of-the-moment is akin to getting a gold star from teacher or bringing my dad to see my room after I'd cleaned it. #tada! It's awesome.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Nail Polish. Which I always want to write as one word. I currently have approximately 100 bottles. I go through phases where I will paint my nails every day or every other day and make sure my outfit always matches. Then, there are other phases where I just don't care and the polish can not only be mismatched but chippy for days and I'm like "meh. whatever." I'm in one of those phases right now, but not so much because I don't care. I just don't have time. Between the <a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2014/06/fire.html" target="_blank">fire aftermath</a> and trying to make up missed time at work and catch up on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/redbytina" target="_blank">editing backlog</a> and, you know, finding time to sleep, my nails have taken a back seat.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQdZRez2pdMVSjkuoyGsqdtRsMT3hfKVGjhcU-kBjhbHR2fh3MI4sU21lBsCCYkJOO33Kmnu41x8XttjCfkLocJAy8Euab_ZgBgaDGw-axpkbMmEkeiwHC50ngeWVoOevnb5X5AKarfA/s1600/black.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQdZRez2pdMVSjkuoyGsqdtRsMT3hfKVGjhcU-kBjhbHR2fh3MI4sU21lBsCCYkJOO33Kmnu41x8XttjCfkLocJAy8Euab_ZgBgaDGw-axpkbMmEkeiwHC50ngeWVoOevnb5X5AKarfA/s1600/black.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I love black polish!</span></span><u><br /></u></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"></span></div>
</li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Coke Zero. Yes, I know it is horrible for me. I mean, the stuff is all chemicals and can eat through the corrosion on battery cables, but...ugh...I love it. When I've had a hard day, I just WANT it...and nachos...and chocolate. It's kind of a problem.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My kiddos. Well, they aren't MY kiddos. I didn't grow them in my uterus. Is that a weird word to just put out there on the internet? Probably. Sorry. But, anyway, I mean my nieces and nephews. I love them like I ̶g̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶u̶t̶e̶r̶u̶s̶ birthed them. I just love them so much, it hurts sometimes. They are so precious to me and so much fun and give me so much love in return. Ugh. #tititears #theycallmeTiTi #asinTeeTeenotTitty #nonotteeteemeaningtopotty #ohnevermind</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Music/Singing. I have music going for most of my waking hours and I sing all the time. I sing quietly or in my head at work, loudly in the car, equally loudly in the shower, and while I'm doing chores or any activity really. I also have a tendency to make up big and opera-style arias about random things I do around my house, such as: washing dishes, taking out the trash and going to pee.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Certain Celebrities/Actors. There are several celebrities/actors I just love and will watch in pretty much anything no matter how lame or cheesy. They are: Audrey Hepburn, Jimmy Stewart, Julie Andrews, Hugh Jackman, Sandra Bullock, Morgan Freeman, Amy Adams, Alfre Woodard, Bill Murray, Bill Cosby, James Earl Jones, and Drew Barrymore. I'm sure I'm forgetting a few. Trying to remember random strangers you love is hard. (Note, I'm not including singers because, holy, that would be a long list.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Mike Rowe. Mike deserves his own number on this list instead of being lumped in with other celebrities I love because "He NEEDS to call me." #buffythevampireslayerreference Seriously, I don't know if he loves Jesus or not, but, once we square that away, we will be married and have little sarcastic children and travel the world getting dirty together. Well, um, they will get dirty and I will take pictures and laugh a lot.</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0zoEj_aJfQbHCiZgVMDUP11G_XGNOOJ1aDkMpHloTzMubxuAItU3voJKeEwGo0zS8AXD9avfOCCfflN72n6wkdJq_1mYvPaqjCezL_xQGpwkPQ71NivYtUeJPFZVUsoelikw_3GmmOU/s1600/mike+rowe.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0zoEj_aJfQbHCiZgVMDUP11G_XGNOOJ1aDkMpHloTzMubxuAItU3voJKeEwGo0zS8AXD9avfOCCfflN72n6wkdJq_1mYvPaqjCezL_xQGpwkPQ71NivYtUeJPFZVUsoelikw_3GmmOU/s1600/mike+rowe.jpg" height="230" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Cornball movies/shows. The more ridiculous, the better. I'm talking Monty Python, Drop Dead Fred, Encino Man, Napoleon Dynamite, Nacho Libre, MST3k, Strange Brew, Dr. Strangelove, Dr. Katz - Professional Therapist, Miranda, Pushing Daisies...again, I know I'm forgetting a few, but, remembering all the random, weird TV shows and movies you love is hard.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My eyes. They are hazel, just like my Mom's, and pretty much the only aspect of my physical appearance that I like. I could ramble on about all the things I dislike and take up the next 13 hours of your life, but I won't. #yourewelcome. But my eyes...I kinda dig them. They change colors depending on what I'm wearing, so I call them my mood eyes; and they look super green when I cry...which is a lot. Every emotion I experience will, at one point in time or another, lead to my tearing up. It's how I roll. Anyway, my eyes are pretty. The end.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">What I don't love...</span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Awnings on houses. They make me angry. I fully realize this is a stupid thing to have such a strong opinion about, but, nonetheless...there it is. Awnings are for hotels or cafe's or little shops with outdoor displays...not for homes. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">I think I'm going to continue with the ridiculous things I don't love, because there are several and by acknowledging that they are stupid things to have strong opinions about, I'm less likely to tick people off...So, that said, #2 is unintentional food mixage. Yes, "mixage" is too a word. If I choose to add corn to my rice dish or dunk my meat loaf into my mashed potatoes, that is ok and not gag-inducing. If I am served a plate and vegetable juice seeps over onto my meat or pasta or something, that is not ok and I will gag and have to surgically remove the contaminated food parts and then scooch the various foods away from each other before I can begin eating. Yes, I know I'm weird.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">My name: Tina. It's a floozy name. If there is a character in a book or movie or tv show, she is not going to be a nice, normal SAHM or something. She is going to be a bimbo, a stripper, a ditzy blonde or something like that. I'll give you one example...When the show "ER" was on, there was a 12 year old patient who was in for a broken leg, which was the result of being run over by a "John" who didn't want to pay for services rendered. While they were checking her out, they discovered she also had an STD. Her name was, obviously, Tina. That about says it all. If I had a mic right now, I'd drop it. My dislike of my floozy name has also led to my having strong opinions about what humans name other humans...but I won't go into that because it for sure will upset people and I don't want to do that because I'm nice and polite and stuff.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Pruney fingers. Like, seriously. I love baths and swimming, but I hate for my fingers to get pruney, so, when I am doing these things, I try to keep my hands out of the water as much as possible. Which. Is. Weird. These activities, typically, require full immersion for the most part, but...not for me. I look the most ridiculous when in a pool, because I keep my hands up (think "a person's reaction when someone shouts 'This is a stick up!'") while floating and bouncing around the pool. It's insane, but, those are the lengths I go to for my weirdness.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">"Wrong" hamburger construction. There is, in fact, an absolutely right way to put a hamburger together. Consequently there is an absolutely wrong way to construct a hamburger, as well. The right way hinges on the proper placement of the sauce-type condiments and the vegetable condiments. Too often, though, I get a burger that has the lettuce and tomato on the bottom or the lettuce on top of the pattie or no sauce-type condiments on the bottom. Each of these are egregious problems all by themselves. Combine them and you wind up with half of the burger in your lap or bread too soggy to hold the burger together, much less eat. Let me explain further, because clearly I haven't said enough about proper burger construction already. ;) If you put the veggie condiments on the bottom, where there is generally no sauce-type condiments, there's nothing to hold the veggies in place and so the whole thing kind of shifts and slides and falls apart, and the bottom bun gets super soggy and gross. If you put the lettuce on top of the pattie it wilts and just gets all limp and too gross to eat. So, the proper method for constructing a hamburger is as follows: top bun with sauce-type condiments (all of the ones you want...not like just ketchup and then mayo on the bottom. You want the flavor to surround each bite of burger...or at least I do, so therefore, everyone should, clearly), lettuce, tomato, any other veggies, cheese, pattie, bottom bun, again with sauce-type condiments. And, there you have it, the proper way to construct a burger...and more words that have ever been typed on the subject in the whole history of mankind.</span><div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">#perfect</span></span></td></tr>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Velcro shoes. These are for toddlers and the arthritic and no one else. They just look silly and the velcro never holds up as long as the shoes do because they get all sorts of lint and stuff in there. So, unless you are three or 73...just don't.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Monograms. Ok, so I know this is going to be one that will probably tick a few people off, but...I'm sorry. It is something I feel very passionate about, so, it's on the list. I'll keep my "I think it's just cheesy" commentary to myself and go a more practical route for this. If you get something monogrammed, you can never donate or gift it to anyone else. Ever. I mean, I don't know about your family, but in ours clothes make the rounds...especially kids clothes. My nephews have worn clothes from several older cousins who have since passed it on to another cousin's child. If everything my nieces owned had their initials across the chest or butt, that would never have been possible and those clothes would have languished on some thrift store shelf before eventually being tossed because no one else's little girls had the initials KFG or TJG. Handing clothes down from sibling to sibling or cousin to cousin or from your closet to a consignment shop is a blessing to so many people. So, think about that before you rush out and monogram every stitch of fabric associated with your child, please. Other moms will thank you for it. :)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Usernames and Profile pics for pretty much every guy on any dating site. If you don't have a shirt on or your handle includes the words "lover" or "boi" or "4u"...that would be a "no" for me. I have seriously thought of offering a service through my photography business that would provide nice, normal looking headshots and handle recommendations for single guys hoping to find love online that won't creep ladies out. The problem is, I think these guys don't realize they are being creepy and would never pay for such a service. #iseecreepyguysandtheydontevenknowtheyarecreepy #sixthsensereference</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwAEEiZJOVqMuMXHC_EWNcRfURSOOV2Lwsmy2s2N30j7MHCII924Gi4Zlsvk5JHtPFyIIwPryZf_eA3Yx4z4VMrU7rG01gbbl939r2V6XLFkj0ri8H1zaCquAK41vnRGcZUbNmwa89K4/s1600/pilot2B4U.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwAEEiZJOVqMuMXHC_EWNcRfURSOOV2Lwsmy2s2N30j7MHCII924Gi4Zlsvk5JHtPFyIIwPryZf_eA3Yx4z4VMrU7rG01gbbl939r2V6XLFkj0ri8H1zaCquAK41vnRGcZUbNmwa89K4/s1600/pilot2B4U.JPG" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u>"loverboipilot2B4U"</u></span></span></td></tr>
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<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">"Eaux" for the letter "O" or an "oh" sound. As a grammar nerd and almost English Lit double major, this drives me bonkers. It's very much a Louisiana thing, so if you are reading this and don't know what I'm talking about, forgive me; but, locals know what I mean. It is a play on spelling with a hat tip to our French heritage, I suppose. So, instead of "Go", people write "Geaux" as in "Geaux Saints!" But, it's just not ok. Geaux is not a word. I feel as strongly about the use of "eaux" as I do about how humans name humans. I realize it is a pretty silly thing to feel so strongly about, but there it is. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Ok, this is going to be the last one because, dang, this got long. So, #10 is...waitforiiiiiit...Valentine's Day. I will probably feel a bit differently about this day (and Mother's Day) should I ever have a Valentine or a family of my own, but, until then it is just a big, giant, kinda rude and in-your-face reminder of what my life lacks. Walking through life with that type of big life thing, carrying that "hope deferred"...for another year, again...on a regular day is hard. But, Valentine's Day is just kind of a jerk and show-off about the whole thing. It kind of ticks me off. So, over the past few years, I've started going into stores and accosting the Valentine's Day stuff (in a non-criminal damage kind of way). Sometimes I even make a video of my antics.</span><div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">So, there you have it...my Love/Don't Lovelist. It went way longer than I expected. It also took longer to write than I expected, if that makes you feel any better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">If you want to just skim and watch the vids, I totally understand.<br /><br />Happy skimming!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">-t<br /> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-87445687233384843102014-07-03T10:00:00.002-05:002014-07-03T11:34:20.703-05:00#anglophile<div class="lr_dct_ent_ph">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span data-dobid="hdw">Hi, my name is Tina and I'm an anglophile.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span data-dobid="hdw">(Hi, Tina)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span data-dobid="hdw">What's an anglophile?<br /><br /> An·glo·phile</span><span class="lr_dct_ph">: ˈaNGgləˌfīl/</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">noun: Anglophile; plural noun: Anglophiles </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"> - a person who is fond of or greatly admires England or Britain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, basically, it means, I LOVE pretty much everything British. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">For. Serious. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">I think my love for Britain and British culture started with literature. I've always been a reader, but somewhere around the 7th or 8th grade, I was introduced to British Literature via "Jane Eyre." Prior to that, I'd been a Judy Blume and Laura Ingalls Wilder girl, but Ms. Bronte's "Jane Eyre" changed everything. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">However, my love affair with all things British didn't really kick into overdrive until after I watched "Pride & Prejudice" for the first time. The language, the turn of phrase, and even the buffoonery enchanted me. I then proceeded to watch P&P six more times over the next two days...and not the short, stupid, poorly acted version with Keira Knightly...I'm talking the full 6 hour masterpiece that is the BBC/A&E version which features Colin Firth as the restrained-yet-passionate Mr. Darcy and Jennifer Ehle as the delightfully forthright Elizabeth Bennett. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">So...that's real commitment. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pardon me while I take the mandatory 30 seconds for my Darcy-induced heart palpitations to stop.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ok, back.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">From that point on, my love for all things British has just grown and grown.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Later, I discovered comedic gems like, Monty Python and the Holy Grail...and began quoting it often. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Nee!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"It's a very silly place!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Go away or I shall taunt you a second time!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"It's only a flesh wound."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"None shall pass!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Help! Help! I'm being repressed!" </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Whose Line is it Anyway? Some of you may have heard of it, because, like "The Office" this show was copied and reproduced for American TV, but like most things, the British version is way better. It is a mad cap improv game show type thing, but the comedians are the contestants. The host, Clive Anderson, is as buttoned up as you'd expect someone named "Clive" to be. He is the straight man that keeps the show from descending into utter chaos, yet without completely removing the "anything can happen" vibe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">As an added bonus, the show features two Canadians, and everyone knows Canadians are second only to Brits on the "Cooler than Americans" scale. They are followed by the French, Australians and Jamaicans, in case you were wondering.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Absolutely Fabulous...it's name says it all. It is also absolutely ridiculous in the most British, and at times awkward of ways. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Miranda, which, full disclosure, I discovered only recently by way of "Call the Midwife". Miranda is Miranda Hart, a comedienne, who as it turns out is also a great actress, period, and plays my favorite character, Chummy, on "Call the Midwife." She. Is. Hysterical. I "litrally" (#britishpronounciation) belly laugh during every single episode...which I may or may not have watched 3.7 times each...so far.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then, naturally, my love affair with British TV inevitably led me to the show that is the butter to my bread, the cream in my coffee, the Jay Z to my Beyonce...Doctor Who. Now, for those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about or are picturing some geezer battling really 70's-esque, Sid & Marty Krofft-type alien puppets, let me share a bit of world rocking news...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">There was a modern reboot of Doctor Who and...it...is...awesome! The Doctors are typically younger, hipper, and generally more attractive than the original set of Doctors.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">And, they're sassier, too.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Other shows worth mentioning while we are on the subject of British TV: Broadchurch, Sherlock, Midsomer Murders, Merlin, Lark Rise to Candleford, Top Gear, IT Crowd, and, of course, Call the Midwife and Downton Abbey.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">Britain also does some pretty amazing mini-series. I've already mentioned "Pride & Prejudice", which then led me to "Wives and Daughters", "North and South" (not the Civil War movie), and "Bleak House". All excellent and all emotionally gutting, if you're into that sort of thing. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the reasons I think I enjoy British television and movies so much, besides the fact that most are far better written and far wittier than anything America has to offer, is the accents. Even the most cockney, unintelligible character sounds infinitely smarter than Americans. A Brit can read a gangster rap song and make it sound like a great work of literature...they're that good.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">In addition to the accent, they just seem to handle the language more deftly than Americans, which </span><span style="font-size: small;">I suppose comes from living in the land where the language originated. Even the regional slang that makes no sense to those of us stuck Stateside sounds like something out of Dickens. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">In comparison, the average American sounds like they read the Cliff's Notes on "How to Speak English Good" or as if they are working from a bad translation.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">If you're like me and can listen to British accents all day, here are two other videos with accents. These two each feature one person imitating all of the accents and dialects found throughout the UK. One is funny and one is not, but they are both enjoyable. I may or may not have watched each of them 10 times in a row...so far.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">An anglophile's resume would not be complete if it didn't include enjoying a good "cuppa" now and again, which I do. For a while there, I had "tea" at around 3 or 4pm every day, which consisted of a cup of tea steeped in a single serve tea pot on my desk and a few dainty cookies (or biscuits as they'd be called in the UK).</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">One thing you will learn if you ever attempt to explore British culture is, there are very strong opinions about how to make a proper cup of tea. Seriously. Books have been written on the subject. Most Brits will generally agree that the right way is "milk first." Which means, you take your cup, pour in the desired amount of milk (actual milk, not cream or half & half) and then plop in your tea bag, followed by your boiling water. However, I found the following video on YouTube which is as impressive as it is inclusive and interactive. Check it out...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is one area of British culture that I've yet to work up the courage to explore and that is: British Food. Being from New Orleans, I have strong opinions about food and being American, I have an inherent snobbishness (read: fear) when it comes to things that are different (read: weird). And, there's not much "weirder" than the contrast between American food and British food. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe one day...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our local World Market has started carrying a lot of British imports, including Spotted Dick...in a can. Soggy cake. In a can. #shudder</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">On second thought, some things are best left to the imagination (read: nightmares) or, until I can try the real deal in the UK.</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-77480624493892568572014-06-26T13:26:00.002-05:002014-06-26T13:28:01.058-05:00#fire<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_top">
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Friday evening, I did what most hot, young single gals do...I started a pot of chicken stock and watched a PBS special on TV. #bejealous </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">When I woke up Saturday morning, I had big plans: photo shoot at 9:30am, Whole Foods for groceries, then home to prep food and edit photos and just generally enjoy being home in my "finally decorated the way I want it" home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">But, as I was pulling away from Whole Foods, I got a call that changed everything. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">All I heard was the word "Fire." Of course, I thought of the pot of chicken stock I'd left simmering on the stove. Surely that didn't spontaneously combust or something. The whole way home, I cycled through various scenarios trying to figure out what could have happened, how bad the damage might be, and if I'd have anything left. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">My experience with house fires had been limited to what I've seen on TV (flames flying upward through the roof) and the three other fire-related incidents I've had at home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">1. When we were kids, my brothers decided to play with matches in their room, because they are crack heads (not literally...that's just what I call them, because it fits) and set their mattress on fire. My dad was able to put it out and keep it from spreading and it was just a little smokey for a bit. We opened the windows and it was fine in a few minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">2. One holiday season I decided to do an advent wreath...and went to bed without blowing out the candles. I woke to a bright light and found that the wreath and my kitchen table was on fire. In my shock and sleepy haze, I went to the sink and filled a glass with water and poured it on the fire. Obviously, that did nothing. So, I grabbed a blanket and smothered it and then ran from the smoke and soot. My house had to be cleaned from top to bottom and every stitch of fabric had to be washed. But, within a week it was as if it never happened...except that I didn't have a kitchen table...and swore off advent wreaths for-ev-er. (If you don't get that "Sandlot" reference, then...go rent and watch the movie, immediately before reading on. It's ok. I'll wait.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">3. About 2 years ago, I arrived home from work and was hit by the strong smell of electrical fire. As I got closer to my door, I realized it was coming from my home. Upon entering the house, I saw a bit of smoke still hanging in the air but couldn't determine the source. I called 911 and the fire department arrived and we discovered that my laptop battery had exploded. Again, my home had to be cleaned from top to bottom and linens had to be washed, but this time, and my coffee table and area rug had to be replaced. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So, as I stood outside waiting to go in, I was imagining something along these lines. Sure, I'd have to clean and wash everything, but I'd be able to stay in my house and go about life as normal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Not so much...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">As I waited outside, my landlord and I spoke a bit about how long it might be before we could go inside and where I might stay "because it might be a few days" before I was allowed to go back home to stay. I assured him I had ample couches to crash on and not to worry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">This was a small relief to him. He truly seemed more worried about his tenants than himself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">After about 45 minutes of waiting and wondering and standing in the hot June sun, the Fire Chief gave us the all-clear to venture in. Again, I was expecting it to smell and to need a good cleaning, that was it. I was not prepared for what I saw on the other side of my front door.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Just for reference, this is what it looked like before...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So...yeah.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">But, now I can add a few more items to the list of things I know about house fires.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">1. Firemen are not gentle or careful. They don't care about messing up your stuff. They also curse a lot...in front of anyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">2. The water they use to put out the fire, in many cases, actually does more damage than the fire itself. Between Katrina and this fire, water is inching further and further up my list of things I don't like a whole lot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">3. Renter's Insurance is da bom dot com. No joke. If you rent, make sure you have it. It may seem like a waste or whatever...it is not. My insurance is not only handling reimbursing me for what I lost to the fire and water, but it is also handling my temporary housing and the packing up, cleaning and storing of all of my belongings while I'm displaced. Plus, everyone is just being super nice and making me feel like it's going to be ok.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">And, honestly, I really do feel like it all is going to be ok. For my part, every thing is working out way better than I thought or imagined...except, of course, what I imaged was on the other side of my door that first day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Though it looked horrible, the actual property/precious things lost was minimal. Nothing of great value (monetary or sentimental) was damaged. The living room ceiling caved in just inches away from my television and the computer I had connected to it. My laptop was across the room. My camera was with me. My refrigerator had to be shoved out of the way so the firemen could work, so that didn't get saturated. And, not one piece of my fiestaware was damaged. What's more, the fire was largely contained by the firewall separating my unit from my neighbors, so really only the ceilings were damaged. My insurance company set me up in a hotel room with a kitchen so I can eat real food instead of always having to do convenience food or eat out while I'm displaced. On top of that, my friends and family have just blown me away with their expressions of care and offers of help. It's really just been one blessing after another. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I can't say the same for my neighbor. She is elderly, semi-disabled and lives with her adult son...or rather, her adult son lives with her. (#readbetweenthelinespeople) She did not have renter's insurance and lost a lot. They were able to salvage their clothing and many of the books and cds and such that were in the front part of the house, but most of what was in the back half is lost, including their bedroom furniture and most of their shoes. Their living room furniture is also probably not salvagable. What's more, she has been working tirelessly to salvage what she can and clear out their home, largely alone. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Several people have asked what they can do for me or what I need. My standard reply has become this "I'm good. But, my neighbor could use some help." Though she won't have a place to store any tangible donations like furniture until we are actually able to go back home, she can, I'm sure, use some monetary assistance in replacing items when the time comes and really just to get by between now and then in terms of replacing groceries and such.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">If you would like to help Ms. Cora with a donation, I've set up the handy dandy pay pal button below for contributions. I'll pool together everyone's donations and put it all on a Visa card for her. I assure you, you couldn't help out a sweeter person...or one who would be more grateful.</span><br />
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<input alt="PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!" border="0" name="submit" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/btn/btn_donateCC_LG.gif" type="image" /><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/scr/pixel.gif" width="1" /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">If you'd like to send a care package or just a card or note letting her know you are praying, her info is:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Cora Coleman</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">4512 Park Dr. S</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Metairie, LA 70001</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I guarantee, anything and everything will be received with gratefulness and thanksgiving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Through this whole thing so far, Lord has been so kind to me in this, I just want to funnel some of that over to Ms. Cora. If you choose to join in on that...God Bless You!</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-49514600762355095762014-06-19T15:43:00.001-05:002014-06-19T15:53:15.851-05:00#insaneinthemembrane<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Hi, my name is Tina and I've been on a diet for the past decade."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Hi, Tina.)</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">They say the definition of insanity is "doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
guess I can see where "they" are coming from. I mean, if one, say,
bangs his head on the wall over and over and expects it to not hurt
and/or bleed the next time...well...said person is, in fact, insane. Who beats their own head against walls except insane people? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, call me insane because I've been dieting and trying to shed my excess weight for at least a decade. I've done "Deal-A-Meal" by the incomparable Richard Simmons before he became a freak of nature, Weight Watchers, the Body Type diet, Sugar Busters, Atkins and every diet ever published in Ladies Home Journal.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">How successful have I been, thus far? Well, here is a before and after for you.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">If you think I look, um, plumper in the after photo, you're right. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes, I know the point of a diet is to de-plump. Thank you, Captain Obvious.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">But, this whole decade hasn't been a total loss. I've learned some valuable lessons from the fad diet merry-go-round.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. <u><b>Diet's don't work*.</b></u> When you've failed at as many diets as I have, you really have to ask yourself "Is it me or the diet?" Just like in a breakup, we naturally want someone to take the blame...and for it to not be us. But, in this case, it really isn't me. (#winning) Yes, I do have the appetite of a linebacker and, sure, I can be lazy and, ok, I am prone to opt for take-out too much, and I do have a tendency to eat emotionally...what's your point? Ok, maybe diets just don't work "for me" and maybe I'm part of the problem, but there is a wealth of information out there supporting my assertions on a more global scale. Many diet doctrines have now been de-bunked as total myth; that, combined with my experience has led me to "call BS" on the whole concept of dieting. Think about that for a second. While the whole calories in/calories out thing might work on paper, we all know the reality is that the results often fail to bear this theory out as truth. And, what about the whole "low fat" or "sugar-free" stuff? How, exactly is making our food more processed, pumping it full of chemicals and turning it into something that is more food-like than actual food better for us? It's a trick, a gimmick, and worst of all, it's a lie. Fat doesn't make us fat, being gluttons and eating food our bodies aren't designed to consume and digest does. (#science) The other reason diets don't work is because they just don't satisfy
us. Even if we don't walk around with grumbling tummies, that half an
egg white sandwich on cardboard bread with side salad we had for lunch is
just not going to cut it. Neither is that frozen diet entree. At the
end of the day...or the end of our lunch break...we just want real,
actual, flavorful food. Period. What's more, because we are hardwired to want what we can't have, diets only serve to make us want the food we are denying ourselves even more. I'm talking "I will punch an elderly person for some McDonald's fries right now" kind of want. Those strong cravings to have what is forbidden will only lead to giving in to them. Once we do, it's just a matter of time before we are back to eating the way we were. For all these reasons, diets just won't ever work or be sustainable long-term. Period again. (</span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">If I had a mic, I'd drop it right now.)</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">2. <u><b>Change is just hard and is not sustainable long-term when fueled by negative thoughts and feelings.</b></u><b> </b>Most of my diet attempts were prompted by one of the following: seeing a photo of myself and reeling from the shock of reality (#mirrorsareliars), crushing on a person I was sure would never like me "as is", or New Years Eve. In these instances, my desire for change was fueled by regret, fear or a garden-variety pity party. These types of thoughts only create negative feelings which then fuel cravings which then leads to eventually diving face first into a gallon of ice cream (or pan of brownies, or bag of chips or whatever your binge food of choice is). What I've learned is that when "I'm gross" or "I'm not good enough" or "I need to stop being a failure" is not sufficient fuel for change. It is the equivalent of a bottle rocket. Sure, it will go some distance really fast, but as soon as that wick burns out, it's coming crashing to the ground...hard. To go the distance, more powerful fuel is required. Trying to sustain any long-term change on negative thoughts and feelings is like trying to get to work after topping off your tank with water. It just ain't gonna make it. The same holds true for those "bikini dreams". Vanity, envy, self-loathing, they are all the same. They create bad feelings about ourselves and will only lead to bad results. They just do. If you can't trust a dieter with a 10-year chip on this, who can you trust?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">3. <u><b>Change takes time</b></u>. When I think about change, I immediately envision what my life will look like when I'm done. A whole movie-style montage plays in my head, complete with emotive music and the happily ever after. But, the reality is, life doesn't happen in movie montage speed, it doesn't even happen in movie speed...and neither does change. While our favorite movie character can go from dweeb to belle of the ball in approximately 90 minutes, we are stuck on the slow path, lamenting how things never seem to happen quickly and easily. But, real, true change is neither of those things. Real change takes commitment, determination, stubbornness, and, yes, a little bit of insanity (#bringingitbackaround). Ask any truly successful person their story and it won't be a 5 minute, reader's digest "I woke up one day and walked out the door and success was there waiting for me" story. It will involve setting a goal, resolving to see it to fruition, and working really hard to attain it. The story will also involve failures, disappointments and mistakes. If you're lucky, it will also involve some funny anecdotes about getting lost in Turkey without their passport or accidentally wearing their wife's jeans to work. But, mostly, it will be about trying and failing and trying again, and again, and again, until it happened. No overnight successes. No fairy godmothers. Only a dream, consistent effort, just enough insanity to never say "die", patience and some humility, because, let's face it, it's hard to get up after failing...again. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Author's Note: Especially when you document each attempt on FB.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">But, after these 10 years of trials and errors, and the lessons I've learned, I have no alternative other than to do the insane thing and get up, shrug my shoulders and soldier forth once again, hopefully, wiser and more determined than I was the last 75 times. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's a crazy idea, I know, but it's so crazy it just might work! ;)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">You might be wondering, "Well, if diets don't work, then what?" Good question! What I've found to be the most effective, most satisfying way to lose weight is this: Eat real, proper food (i.e. meat, veggies, fruit and keep dairy and refined products...such as white bread, pasta and sugar...to a minimum) and spend some time each day NOT on the couch. That doesn't have to mean a gym (#ihategyms) or a treadmill (#ihatetreadmills). It could be biking or jogging or walking around a park or exploring your city or running through the sprinkler with kiddos (or without, that's legal, too), or taking a Zumba class, or, if you're really hardcore, doing cross-fit. You'll be amazed how cooperative your body will be in terms of weight-loss when you are feeding it what it was designed to consume and using it the way it was designed to be used. #truestory The last time I "dieted" I used this method. I lost 60 lbs in 6 months. Of course my fuel/motivation was bad and I crashed and burned, but, while I was blowin' and goin' the weight just poured off of me and I almost never craved junk food! If you have been struggling with weight watchers or paleo or gluten free or whatever other diet, or if you see other diets as too restrictive, try this for a month. It will rock your world. #pinkypromise</span></span></span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-74528129534114985922014-06-11T12:15:00.000-05:002014-06-11T12:57:54.936-05:00#george<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Like most little girls, I grew up under the assumption that I loved cats. I believed this so much that I bought books about cats, hung posters of them in my room and even spent a good chunk of time cross-stitching and framing images of them for my my bedroom. The fact that my dad wouldn't allow me to have a cat was a source of great consternation and disappointment to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">As soon as I was out on my own and found a place that was cat-friendly, I set about finding my very own, very longed-for cat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Mind you, I knew nothing about caring for a cat. I'd only ever had a dog. But, I felt this was sufficient preparation for caring for a cat. I loved my dog. I wasn't afraid of her and would bathe her and check her teeth and trim her claws/nails and all that. So, I felt I was pretty well set to begin life as a cat owner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I. Was. Wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">If Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, then Dogs are from Earth and Cats are from a Galaxy Far, Far Away. An aloof, at times angry Galaxy. They just aren't even in the same class of creature as dogs. The two have nothing in common whatsoever. Sure, they both, technically, have fur and claws and teeth and tails. But one is normal and the other is alien, possibly homicidal. I'll explain more later. But, first, let's talk about how I found my cat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I was looking for a cat that was pre-owned and used to being home alone during the day. So, I hit the classifieds. This was back before Craigslist was a thing, so I grabbed an actual paper and got my fingers black searching for cats that matched my needs. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I found one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The owner was going to be traveling a lot for work and needed to find a new, loving home for her precious pet. He had been neutered, de-clawed in the front, was litter box trained and would come with all of the necessary accoutrement. (I like saying that instead of "stuff". It makes me feel fancy. You should read "accoutrement" in a very bad french accent, by the way.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">It seemed like the perfect set up to me! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The next day, I drove into the City to meet this cat and his soon-to-be former owner. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">She lived in a very high-class part of town and was also former Miss Louisiana (she also later became Mrs. Louisiana) and was super nice. The cat seemed nice, too. He came right out to say "hello" and rubbed on my legs and purred and performed tricks on command for his Beauty Queen owner.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Actual Beauty Queen. Not a simulation.</span></b></i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Oh, and his name was George, which I thought was funny.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwOH0p3OGun5j_enQlTLFoFZoY4LxqKuxBqCjVzDT2vGJVbhBSOJVUgrfniN0JUjDVwAedVjejm6IylWplPmHsxvQSDAk5LcqvnlNIBQd8-3v_cZ5VIRO5-wvljLCV25J8g3Cmp-JTR0/s1600/george.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwOH0p3OGun5j_enQlTLFoFZoY4LxqKuxBqCjVzDT2vGJVbhBSOJVUgrfniN0JUjDVwAedVjejm6IylWplPmHsxvQSDAk5LcqvnlNIBQd8-3v_cZ5VIRO5-wvljLCV25J8g3Cmp-JTR0/s1600/george.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">"I'll hug him and squeeze him and call him George.", I thought.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">He was, by no means, a kitten and was, in fact, very large. Miss Louisiana told me he was at least part Maine Coon. Now, I don't know if you know anything about Maine Coons (I certainly didn't at the time) but, they are one of the largest domestic cat breeds. To give you an idea as to size, here are a few photos.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Bigger than a Toddler.</span></i></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><i><b>Large and definitely in charge.</b></i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">There's a human back there somewhere.</span></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">See? HUGE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Now, George wasn't quite as big as the cats pictured above, but he was big enough. He was also free and nice (or so I thought) and house-broken and used to being home by himself. So, Miss Louisiana and I shook hands, and I headed out of her fancy apartment with my new cat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">As I drove home, I talked to George. I assured him he would like his new home and would be happy there. I imagined cuddling on the sofa watching TV with him after we got settled. And, the thought of having someone/thing to come home to and say "good morning" and "good night" to made me smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">SPOILER ALERT: That's not what happened. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Once I got George and all of his "accoutrement" in my apartment, I opened his crate expecting him to look around and come over to me for some assurance or security.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">He didn't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">He hissed and ran as far away from me as he could, eventually hiding under my bed. Well, you see, I forgot to let him know on our chat during the drive back that my bedroom was going to be off-limits. #mybad But, under my bed was where he wanted to be...and the stage was set for our first battle of the wills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Helpful tip: Never go into a battle of wills with a cat without one of those chainmail suits divers use to swim with sharks.</b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">It took approximately 2 hours of coaxing and hissing and scratching and finally a broomstick gently applied to his bottom to get George out from under my bed. By that time we were both frustrated and exhausted and done with each other. When George finally came out from the bed, he again ran as far away from me as possible and hid somewhere else. I didn't know where and I didn't care. I just wanted to vacuum my room free of what would turn out to be impossible to remove hair and go to bed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">And with that, I learned my first lesson on how cats are different than dogs: THEY don't really like people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">When we first brought our dog home, she ONLY wanted to be with us, by us, on us, licking every exposed area of skin and wagging her tail the whole time. When we tried to pick her up, she got even more excited and peed a little. If we were outside of her field of vision, she'd bark (I presume our names) and set off to find us immediately. We were her world and she was there to love us as much as possible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Not so much with cats.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The next morning, I found George laying on the back of one of my sofas, looking at me as if to say "How dare you enter my domain."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">He did chill out a bit though, eventually, and, at times would come over to rub on my leg and ask for some petting, but it was always on his terms. If I ever tried to spontaneously love on him without first getting express written consent, forget it. Consequently, I couldn't care for him as I needed to or when I planned to. If I had some time and figured he needed a good brushing for that crazy hair and tried to just pick him up and you know, just do it when I was ready, he'd fuss and hiss and try to run away. I'd have to wait until he came to me for attention and hope I had the brush handy...and then I'd only be allowed to brush for a few seconds until he was done with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">(Author's Note: I got stressed out just typing that.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Which brings me to lesson #2 on how cats are different than dogs: They couldn't care less about pleasing their humans. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Sure, you can house train a cat, but don't be mistaken into thinking they are doing it to please you. Nope. You have given them their very own private bathroom and they will use it because it is their right, not to help you out. But, that is as far as "training" generally goes. They will do what they want, when they want and go where they want, no matter how many time you try to dissuade them. For example, George firmly believed he should sleep in my room. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Firmly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Every night, he'd paw at my door and meow in a demanding tone, insisting I let him in. One night, in exasperation, I relented. Once in my room, he expected to lay on MY pillow, not at the foot of the bed where I wanted him to lay. Finally, I had to start putting him in the spare room at night so I could get some sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">That's when the pouncing started...and Lesson #3 on how cats are different than dogs was learned: They always stay mostly wild.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">As I mentioned above, I found my cat to be wholly un-trainable because he couldn't care less about pleasing me. In fact, he firmly believed he was the boss of me and had to beat me, or in this case, pounce me into submission. Randomly, as I was going about my normal routines in MY home, George would become displeased and pounce on my calf, even mock biting me at times. I never knew what I did to provoke him, except, you know, for the general disrespect of turning my back on him when I left the room.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Dude wanted me dead. No doubt. As far as he was concerned, life would be better with me out of it. Period.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">So, basically, after a few months I became a prisoner in a home with a mangy, matted cat that didn't allow me to do anything, except his bidding of course and and the only thing I got in return was impossible to remove hair all over the place. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Enter Lesson #4 on how cats are different from dogs: The hair! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Now, remember, I had a dog. But,I didn't just have any dog, I had a golden retriever. They are big dogs with two coats of fur. That means they shed a lot. However, while my dog's hair would just sort of lay on the surface of whatever it touched waiting to be swept or vacuumed away, cats hair doesn't. I swear it has the elements essential for velcro or glue or static electricity because it just wouldn't come up. I really think my vacuuming and lint brushing only served to weave the hair even more firmly into whatever fibers it was on. It was insane! But that wasn't the worst thing...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Which brings me to the final straw and final lesson on how cats are different than dogs: The. Litter. Box. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Conceivably one of the grossest ideas ever! I don't know who thought "Hey, let's keep a box with a couple of days worth of our pet's poop and pee in the house!" But, they were clearly either complete idiots or unable to smell...possibly from the methane coming off of their litter boxes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I don't care how often I emptied the box, which is gross enough all by itself, the smell lingered. It hung in the air like the stench of the one guy the waiting room with bad B.O. and seemed to never go away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Finally, I had enough of the smell and the hair and the pouncing and the sassing and the having to keep the pet I just wanted to snuggle with on the sofa locked in the guest room for my own protection. So, I decided it was time to break up with George. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Before he left, I made sure he knew it was definitely HIM and not me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">In all seriousness, I was so glad to see that cat gone and have my home back, I did a little weep of joy. #nojoke</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Sure, it took a solid month to feel like I really had vacuumed up as much cat hair as possible and before I stopped having PTSD-induced moments where I was sure I still smelled that horrendous litter box. But, I got there and it. felt. awesome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The experience wasn't a complete loss, though. At least now I know for certain that I do not - I repeat: NOT - love cats. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />While, I still miss my dog a lot...so much so that talking about her sometimes gets me misty...I don't miss that darn cat one bit. What's more, the whole ordeal has left me so scarred that "must not have cats" is one of the few items on my list of things that would be a "deal breaker" for a potential boyfriend/husband. It falls just under "atheist", "racist" and "has an LSU tattoo". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-56098660249670528132014-06-10T14:26:00.002-05:002014-06-10T14:54:09.726-05:00#hateonmeAfter my first niece was born, I sort of became the family's defacto photographer. We were all obsessed with her and her cafe au lait cuteness and all the noises she made and the funny faces that often accompanied her having gas. Collectively, we must have taken 1000 photos of her in the first month, at least. Being the perfectionist that I am, I quickly became frustrated with my camera's ability to capture all of the cuteness I was trying to record for posterity.<br />
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If any of you have tried to photograph a small child with a standard point and shoot camera, you know how difficult it really is to get the shot you want. Not only are you attempting to shoot a moving target, so to speak, but the mechanisms in the camera just can't keep up with baby's fleeting smiles and silliness.<br />
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Finally, I caved and bought an SLR camera or, in layman's terms, a "fancy camera."<br />
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From that point on, I really developed a love for photography and, according to some, got pretty good at it. By the time my second niece was a toddler, I was booking photography jobs and teaching myself Photoshop in the process. It was around the same time that I started to realize what a pain in the neck weather was...or rather, how much it truly, passionately hated me.<br />
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You see, I do natural light photography, primarily. That means, my clients meet me outside and we use the sun, as opposed to a flash, for lighting...and that we spend a good bit of time walking and turning and sitting and standing to find the perfect light for our needs. It also means that, if the weather misbehaves, we can't take our pictures...and have to reschedule...and I don't get paid until later...and planned editing time gets bumped for said rescheduled session...and so then planned housework gets bumped to catch up on editing...and, so, dear readers, this is why I am often in danger of running out of gas and why my room is just never, ever clean. #thatsmystoryandimstickingtoit<br />
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So, today, as I checked the weather and saw "80% chance of rain" I thought: "Oh, weather, why do you hate me?" Because, clearly, it does. The only reason there is for rain on this day is because I have a shoot today and it likes to mess with me...obviously. I mean, we just had a ton of rain last weekend (which caused two reschedulings, by the way). It didn't have to rain today...except that the weather hates me.<br />
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It's not alone. There are several other things/people that hate me. For reals. Check it out...<br />
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1. White shirts: They attract salad dressing. #science And, wind up being equivalent of a sign on my back saying "needs a bib."<br />
2. Bees: They chase me. I've been stung in the eye by them twice...on separate occasions.<br />
3. Chair legs, moldings, or anything at toe-level: They just jump right out and smack my poor toes at any given opportunity. I swear, I stub my toes once or twice a week.<br />
4. Ant piles: They, much like things at toe-level, migrate and spring up around my foot whenever I am nearby.<br />
5. Estee Lauder: She puts something in her perfume that gives me an instant migraine, complete with nausea. #conspiracy<br />
6. Turnstiles: Ti Ti got back...and they don't want it.<br />
7. All chihauhuas everywhere: They bark insanely whenever I am within a 500-ft radius. Oh, wait, they do that to everyone? Ok.<br />
8. Go-cup lids: They simply refuse to seal properly and always pour down my shirt (whether it is white or not) which winds up being the equivalent of a sign on my shirt that says "needs a sippy cup."<br />
9. Chairs with arms.<br />
10. Yawning: it always makes me look like I'm crying, which then leads to people asking "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" I then have to have an awkward convo where I try to explain that I was only yawning and really am ok, but I don't think they ever really believe me.<br />
11. Math, in general, but especially anything involving theorems. <br />
12. The State of Texas...but it's totally mutual, so it's fine.<br />
13. Oh, and of course, point and shoot cameras. <br />
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With the exception of Texas, the hatred is totally undeserved. <br />
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White shirts are nice and the preferred shirt for family photos for some reason. Sure, it makes the family look like some sort of odd cult or scouting group, but...I mean, they're fine. I have no idea why they would hate me.<br />
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Bees are adorable and are the reason we have flowers and vegetables and fruits and honey. I love them. I love them so much, I used to spend hours catching them in jars. Oh...wait...I think I get why they hate me now.<br />
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I can't think of an "out" for chair legs, moldings and other things toe-level, though. I mean, it isn't my fault they are always in my way, causing me to slam into them with brooms or vacuums or luggage or free weights.<br />
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And, ok, fine, I used to poke at ant piles as a kid just to see them scurry. Fine. I get it. They must have ant lore that is told and retold to each generation warning of the girl who used to stick things in their homes and then stomp on them when they got to close in their attempt to escape the disaster.<br />
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But, Ms. Lauder, I cut you no slack. You have a dumb name and your perfume stinks, so much so it makes me physically ill. So...there. #stickstongueout<br />
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I do wish turnstiles liked me, though. It sure would make life easier. It would also be pretty cool if I could just jump right over them like people do in the movies. I think if I tried, though, I'd end up seeing that turnstiles hate me even more than I think they do...and then have to be rushed to the ER.<br />
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I've given up all hope of chihuahuas liking me, though. Our neighbor had one when I was a kid. Her name was "Baby." The dog hated me. No matter how often I tried to play with her or be nice to her or cuddle with her or smoosh her face and talk baby talk to her, she'd always just growl and snap and run away from me. It makes no sense. I'm delightful!<br />
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As for go-cup lids...jokes on you! I stopped drinking soft drinks or eating fast food. So...I win!<br />
<br />
Chairs with arms, Yawning, Math and point and shoot cameras...you're dead to me. #ripsblouse #OTstyle <br />
<br />
Next time, we'll discuss the cat that wanted me dead. You won't want to miss it.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-36613508550665747982014-06-06T22:33:00.001-05:002014-06-06T22:35:20.991-05:00National Donut Day<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dear "The People in Charge of Making up Fake National Holidays",</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Today was National Donut Day. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thank you for reminding us to eat donuts. Or, in my case, making me really want a donut when I wouldn't want one otherwise. </span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI28V8hCR0SR9YUxr_Kk6aiGdPa-I76OmhkEq9qlaZj6hS45-sQzTo-ns-q1vxeseCInFUk5k8AgGoD5-ahRXKwGGAys4bTO0VMPHbGOoC9TWipep7DXXM_UW3XbhKIk-ImdpqBZ8waXs/s1600/donuts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI28V8hCR0SR9YUxr_Kk6aiGdPa-I76OmhkEq9qlaZj6hS45-sQzTo-ns-q1vxeseCInFUk5k8AgGoD5-ahRXKwGGAys4bTO0VMPHbGOoC9TWipep7DXXM_UW3XbhKIk-ImdpqBZ8waXs/s1600/donuts.JPG" height="247" width="400" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Google the word "donut" and this is what you get.</b></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">You food industry and marketing people are really, really good at reminding us to eat every 15 minutes whether we are hungry or not. On the short drive between my home and my parents, there are 40+ restaurants and billboards and, yes, donut shops, reminding my senses to eat. My waistline is proof that your efforts have been successful. So, well done. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">If only there were 40 libraries and bookstores and museums within each 5 mile radius, we'd be kicking Japan's butt in the smarts department!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Which gets me thinking, maybe you could make up some holidays that help us as a people instead of ones that just encourage us to eat things we probably shouldn't each much of anyway? Maybe some like this:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Eat Kale Because There are Starving Kids in Africa (and it's good for you, too) Day.</span></span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Eat Kale Because There are Starving Kids in Africa (and *whispers* it's good for you, too)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Walk Around the Block Day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Call your Mother for Heaven's Sake Day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Don't go to McDonald's Day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Wear Your Favorite Outfit Day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Get a Pedicure Day. (A.K.A. National "Girl Your Feet Need Help" Day)</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Sleep 'Til 10am Day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National Bring Flowers to a Co-Worker Day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">National "Let it Go" Sing-Along Day.</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I'm pretty sure Michelle Obama be on board with most of these...if that matters to you at all. </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sincerely,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Salivating on Her Sofa</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-4418431920621102452014-06-06T10:08:00.000-05:002014-06-06T10:14:14.857-05:00#calmdown<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Some of my friends and family kind of got upset by the jokes I made at my own expense in <a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2014/06/day-30-faq.html" target="_blank">yesterday's post</a>.
They thought I was trashing myself and got a little defensive for me,
just as they would if some big, mean bully were saying not nice things
about me. So, just in case any of you other lovely readers felt bad or
got the urge to rush to my defense, let me set your minds at ease. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Well,
first, let me just say, um...I AM fat and single and spend 80% of my
time alone with only myself to talk to. Them's just the facts. Good, bad
or indifferent. I know some SAHM's who probably think I'm living the
dream (#imnot) and other people that think I'm among those most to be
pitied (#itsnotthatbad), but the reality is, it just is what it is, or
at least, it is what it has been up to this point. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Every day those
realities are there and are something I have to deal with as best I
can. On a good day, I lean into God, take steps towards being the best
me I can,
and sing a lot. Some days, I admit, it is hard and I wind up throwing
myself a kick-ass pity party. Other days, I'm having too much fun to
care. But, every day, I have to figure out a way to deal. When life gets
hard, my mom sometimes says "You can either laugh or cry..." and
yesterday, I chose to laugh. Those jokes weren't veiled self-pity or
attempts to fish for assurances or compliments; there was no pang in my
chest or tears to choke back as I wrote them. They were jokes, plain and
simple...jokes based on difficult and, at times, painful realities
about my life, but, jokes, just the same. So, as I told my friends and
family, #calmdown. I'm ok...and no nachos were consumed in the writing
of yesterday's post, or afterwards.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">To those same friends and family who did get upset with/for me...I love that you love me that much.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso9gwPDf3wG0kkjD8PD5pvNMVMG9O-lJImYl1-19MLqtGN3jGyCX_VNGljRxuOXdhehN-dEWmIwY9mz7sQizdHGXaloVZrsAUNd5KZnI6ysYlZQ0MKaPiGFIjQZocFBE3lspLtpqk180/s1600/photo(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso9gwPDf3wG0kkjD8PD5pvNMVMG9O-lJImYl1-19MLqtGN3jGyCX_VNGljRxuOXdhehN-dEWmIwY9mz7sQizdHGXaloVZrsAUNd5KZnI6ysYlZQ0MKaPiGFIjQZocFBE3lspLtpqk180/s1600/photo(2).JPG" height="320" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>#mwah!</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">xoxo,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">-t </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-32105821069829664452014-06-05T21:24:00.004-05:002014-06-06T10:48:11.525-05:00Day 30: #FAQ<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Well, readers and friends, the #30daysofred experiment is over.
I may post a summary of the month at some point when I'm feeling more
introspective and less emotional than I am today, but, in the meantime, here
are a few FAQs that should answer many of your nagging questions.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I don't feel like reading all of your other posts, so, can you
just tell me what the whole #30daysofred was about? Oh, and by the way, who is
Fred?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">(cough)#yourelazy(cough) I mean, um, Hi...I guess. Thanks for
asking? First, there is no Fred. Well, I mean, there ARE Fred's out there in
the wide world, I suppose. Do people still name people "Fred?" Well,
if not baby Freds, I'm sure there are Old men named, Fred, maybe even some
ladies, and for sure some dogs. My friend once had a dog named Fred who was
kind of a maniac. He ate hot bacon right out of the skillet as it was cooking.
There's also Fred Willard who is a pretty funny dude. And, of course, Drop Dead
Fred, if you believe in imaginary friends/people. But, my #30daysofred isn't
about them, or any Fred, really. It is about RED, as in 30 Days of Red. One
day, I wore a red outfit with red lipstick and red nails and I was a giddy
sassypants all day. So, after a particularly trying month, I decided I'd wear
something red, even if it was just lipstick or nail polish, every day for 30
days in the hopes of having at least a few moments of feeling like a
giddy sassy pants each day. And, then, I blogged about it
semi-regularly, and took a lot of selfies. A lot. Some people seemed to enjoy
it (Hi Mom and (insert random FB friend, here).</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Did wearing red REALLY make you happier?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">What an <s>obvious</s> excellent question! Well, after crunching
the numbers, it appears that the red was most effective between the hours of
6:30am and 7:30am Monday - Friday and also showed a significant spike at 5:30pm
Monday - Thursday and 1130am on Fridays...which also coincides with the time
just before arriving at work and the time I typically leave work. So...I may
need to run the numbers again, accounting for the whole "not having to be
at work euphoria" thing. I'll get back to you on that.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">How many tubes of red lipstick do you own?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">About 12. I really like red lipstick. I know you're
shocked by that personal revelation.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">What's your favorite red nail polish?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I was hoping someone would ask this question!! My most favorite
red nail polish of all time is Rapid Red by Sally Hansen...it's part of their
Insta-Dry line. It is the prettiest, happiest shade of red, dries super fast
(which is important if you're like me and always have a need to fish something
out of your purse or wash dishes or weed a garden immediately after polishing
your nails) and is pretty shiny even without a top coat. The best part is, it
doesn't cost $8 or $9 dollars and lasts pretty well, too! #notanad</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Where does your red hair come from?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">The drugstore. Loreal #6R - Light Auburn...because life's too
short to walk around with dishwater blonde hair. #imworthit</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Don't you have a life?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Yes. Of course. But, it is mostly online and via text. Shut
up...that does too still count.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Are you medicated?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">I am self-medicated, but like with nachos and chocolate, not
anything hardcore like "the drugs." I grew up in the 80s and learned
to "Just say no."</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Follow-up question: What is wrong with you? </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">First of all, #rude. But, I feel like that is one of those
questions you might get at an interview where they ask you to list your
weaknesses just to make you say bad things about yourself. But, any good
interviewee knows you just say really good things (#lies) about yourself to try
and impress the interviewer. So, I'll answer this question that way... I'm
often too hilarious. I care too much about people that I love. I am, at times,
too adorable and delightful. I am also unapologetically sarcastic.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Are you 12?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Your mom is 12.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Have you ever been in love? </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Yes. Many times. Madly. Deeply. But, it was usually with a
character in a movie or a plate of nachos...so...you know...it just never
worked out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">What is your dream man like? </span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">John Goodman.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Why are you still single?</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Are you patronizing me? Have you seen me? Let’s just say, if
people were geographic regions, I’d need my own zip code, and guys tend to like
girls who are more like cute little villages that aren’t even big enough to
have their own police force. Slimsville - population 100-105.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">What's your
favorite movie?</span></b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> <br />
I’ve never had one favorite anything. Not one favorite color. Not one favorite
song. Not one favorite book. Not one favorite example of things I don’t have
one favorite of. But, to answer the question at hand…The grown-up response would
be: "The Color Purple." That movie guts me. Every. Time. In fact, I
can only watch it once every 12-1/2 years because it takes me that long to
emotionally recover. But, my "real" favorite movie would be a four-way
tie between: Encino Man, Drop Dead Fred, Napoleon Dynamite and Nacho Libre. </span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">What's your
favorite color?</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"> <br />
You'd think that would be obvious on account of the whole #30daysofred thing.
But, surprise twist, I'm a complex person. As I mentioned in the answer above,
I’ve never had one favorite anything in my entire life. I do love red. It makes
me happy in a special way, but I also really love turquoise and yellow a lot,
too. I mean, I guess it depends on context, as well. For example, if I'm
looking for a dress, well usually I'd go for black on account of still
believing the whole “black is slimming” lie. (I've worn head to toe black and
still looked ginormous. So, I've concluded that black is only slimming on slim
people and all fashion people are liars. #totallyreasonable) Ok, so if I'm
looking for a shirt, I'll go for jewel tones. If I'm looking for lipstick or
nailpolish or hair dye, or desk accessories, red is definitely my default. If
I'm looking for jewelry or purses, I always gravitate towards the aqua or turquoise.
If I'm decorating my kitchen or wanting to buy flowers, yellow will win more
than any other color. In fact, I'm writing a book on which color I prefer in
any and every fashion or decorating situation. It will be titled "No One
Cares: A love story."</span><span style="font-family: Courier;">#okiamaliartoo</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier;"><b><i>Are you related to Tina Fey or Tina Turner or Teena Marie or Tina Louise? </i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier;">Um...that's not how that works.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Was the song "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic"
written about you? <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Yes. #duh</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Do you believe in aliens?</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"><br />
Not really. I mean, anything is possible, but, I’m not holding out any hope of
finding a adorably ugly alien bff in the woods who I’ll then bring home to live
in my closet and eat Reese’s Pieces. But, I also don’t believe in Dubai or Quinoa…so
what do I know?</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Are you Rob Base?</span></i></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">If I had a nickle for every time I was asked this question… But,
no. Though, I pretty much always wanna rock right now and always come to get
down and am known to rock a microphone, I AM, however, Internationally
Known...so, I can't possibly be Rob Base.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Who is Rob Base?</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";">Well, Grandma, Rob Base is a rapper from the 90s. He, and his partner DJ EZ Rock, are most
famous for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phOW-CZJWT0" target="_blank">this song</a>, the lyrics of which are cleverly quoted in the answer
above.</span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New";"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier;">I’ll leave you now to
enjoy the rhymes of Mr. Base. #yourewelcome<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier;">Thanks for playing along these past 30 days.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier;">Until next time, readers…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Peace, love and red lipstick,</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-72209607609890732892014-05-28T22:03:00.002-05:002014-05-28T23:06:09.522-05:00Day 22: #weirdwednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Good Evening, you lovely people, you !</div>
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Thank you for stopping by, again. It means the world that you would take even just a couple minutes to read the silliness I post here. AND shows that you, clearly, have great taste in blogs. ;)</div>
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So, today is Wednesday. Wednesdays are usually fun because the ladies at my job all wear matching colors and take a photo together and laugh a bit. But, the ladies picked fuschia this time, which, if I were a completely trendy person I probably could have made work with the whole red thing...but I'm not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So, I didn't. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And, that meant (gasp) I had to wear a more burgandy/merlot colored lipstick today, instead of my usual blood red.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>#fushiaproblems</b></td></tr>
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The horror.</div>
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But, that wasn't the only weird thing about today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">First of all, I woke up T-I-R-E-D. I'd been up late the night before getting my apartment as photo-ready as I could in one evening ...I'll spare you the why (If you want to believe House Beautiful was coming by, feel free). But, as I mentioned in a previous post, I'd been crazy busy the previous two weeks, so, suffice it to say, the job required a bit more than a light dusting and fluffing of the pillows.</div>
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As I cleaned, I had an old show playing in the background which featured my favorite forensic pathologist (yes, I have a favorite forensic pathologist #imweird), Dr. Michael Baden. The show was called "Autopsy." Long ago, when I was in college and no one had cell phones and computers used floppy disks, this shoe ran on HBO as a regular series. I made my parents record it...on their VCR (#imold)...for me because I didn't get HBO in the dorms. </div>
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Let me just say this: People. Are. Strange. And. Scary. </div>
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And engrossing. </div>
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I couldn't stop watching, which meant I stayed up later than I needed to.</div>
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Which also meant I had really weird dreams that woke me up in the middle of the night. </div>
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Which then meant it was really hard to wake up and, basically threw off my whole morning. </div>
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But, because I'm a "roll with the punches" kinda gal, I decided to throw routine to the wind and do everything different. That meant, instead of having quiet time with coffee at the kitchen table, I, um, had it with water, uh, sitting...um...somewhere else. </div>
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Instead of going for a walk, I changed the sheets on my bed,which, I promise, burns just about as many calories...and is far more likely to cause injury (I stub my toe EVERY time!) and bad words (see previous comment regarding stubbed toes.)</div>
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I also, for reasons that are still a mystery to me, left for work with about 6 mason jars full of food. I guess I thought the weirdness was going to make me super hungry?!?</div>
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(Author's note: This different routine was NOT, I repeat NOT because I slept too long and was feeling lazy. Not.)</div>
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I also did something else a bit different...</div>
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Can you guess what it is? </div>
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No, it's not the different lip color.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSi74S_QGSuCGI3osnLhPRuHX3dnYi9E9lOjRJYO_skWjfHiWnnfBnKZ5lJ0p3y79W7l-_QUVDl11cR9EQ5cXNrzzeNu-49cxUpmXOLySr7v6rn6ZtxTw9IEyzoBHhDeJL52FKdsYJObE/s640/blogger-image--1865727049.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSi74S_QGSuCGI3osnLhPRuHX3dnYi9E9lOjRJYO_skWjfHiWnnfBnKZ5lJ0p3y79W7l-_QUVDl11cR9EQ5cXNrzzeNu-49cxUpmXOLySr7v6rn6ZtxTw9IEyzoBHhDeJL52FKdsYJObE/s400/blogger-image--1865727049.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
<br>
No, it's not that my skin looks like pure alabaster. But, thank you for saying so.<br>
<br>
Keep guessing.<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzUJt-dXqMA9Px7wk4f_qblWGgWowIGGjk4o6cTAzWciHMEfeajO52lRQrrY-picYZy9RKXrdbu5-sszYyMWFSXP-aZ8mHYj6WNUFw5Y8l-QpBllwz2VqxS5A-qRPsVX_cdI17xtfGW8/s400/blogger-image-1608289361.jpg" width="400"></div>
<br>
Nope. I haven't lost weight.<br>
<br>
But, you're now, officially, my favorite person.<br>
<br>
Here, I'll give you a hint.<br>
<br>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTypg6hkj5GLimGdZbGvyy_g9psvuf7eHx7AFX8W2wVdd96dmvb5V6jOSggctK7GfCNeqN5Di605maSWIo1zauCV71gxMVzDCTUl0A0U-KTQ0VZJIN9HngjDAYoZdtbwPkKupGngyOUQ/s400/blogger-image-1685958081.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Look...over...there.</b></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyI5jlWrNOFWHWuZdpQ8nPEmbBzBoPTfnEdvCnuZ9ET5RNpb4zy2-1vEj7wUVCuHLnP_mxEtLwpJMCxivOhuzpwpqk5LRVeK1NRN2-MxTANmGUb7GOYaN5lOJlsbZ9TUETrT53ECC1aE/s400/blogger-image-718328448.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Wow, this is getting weird...and painful.</b></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZd8hO7at0Hs2lb2JnHMZYX6hy1ljkC1X692d5hTC5vWjo6869nffPpN2IlB6RARlHZ4qeJsEoJ3JsEDrVlKipimquqFSZ1pPlRz4UkaNMIB21hgUEGGILLwdYw4h2-3ojyEt3joI5_0/s400/blogger-image--1302943682.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Do you see it?</b></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbJd4m3W0gJ7kNpgDbTqwJCro0kDSs8TlXx7rS0XI3rPj2txh4NvaXd8HzhvVF_R5yV6OLb80U6jU8ncmYiVg2YbZn2nlW_ecdEy6dfQ4kgSFiyiXcrJOcfUk2i0ZMegFO6vcZiAhxkc/s400/blogger-image--1079742248.jpg" width="400"></div>
<br>
Did you guess, yet?<br>
<br>
No, I didn't get pink eye.<br>
<br>
It's so obvious!<br>
<br>
Here, let me give you one more hint.<br>
<br>
This is me, yesterday, at "done o'clock."<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1qe9xjygzQrMsz730bNBNFCzEijzhQmOGwOExp2EvSMXBXI_I55HggYFh4muuEK4PB28a5y-E4_EPXVtHvm7l2RgSU0KneJeRbirn0BVJTfH7ZxnhkkCe265B5sVGt64xUCV5ssYKdk/s400/blogger-image-887277368.jpg" width="320"></div>
<br>
<br>
And this is me on this very Weird Wednesday.<br>
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<img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMfM0AKKvGaacPHcF_DQkXWPZTJGnemUUQ_lJ-klJJkauYFfer33XtBQ3iLP-KqCwW68q8BSr20jPg4nX64aUEBa6tlxX2Hl0aqd4vrjU-gIsl9a9PJFGtG67gAtZ_tvmL1axaVhhNEQ/s400/blogger-image--78414003.jpg" width="400"></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
If you guessed "She parted her hair on the other side" YOU'RE RIGHT!!!!<br>
<br>
If you are feeling jipped and like this is 10 minutes of your life you'll never get back, well, all I can say is...<br>
<br>
You're also right.<br>
<br>
But, think on this, if you'll indulge me another minute...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br>
Parting my hair on the opposite side was the highlight of my day.<br>
<br>
Well, that and this little pina colada yogurt parfait I made for a snack.<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBQ-6l6usfp2KxjtDZfcJca1dI65pI572VX4K8V48ogtZPTvqn5qIjFZb4Io-1n6fX03D23QbNlENjVY1bgaKroADK410J1Hv3Sq48gDrs4-gadLKqYi2LTQ2IKOf4a4KpIDaiuhR-5Y/s1600/photo-6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBQ-6l6usfp2KxjtDZfcJca1dI65pI572VX4K8V48ogtZPTvqn5qIjFZb4Io-1n6fX03D23QbNlENjVY1bgaKroADK410J1Hv3Sq48gDrs4-gadLKqYi2LTQ2IKOf4a4KpIDaiuhR-5Y/s1600/photo-6.JPG" height="400" width="300"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>This. Was. Amazing.</b></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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I ate it and pretended I was in Hawaii. Not that I've ever been to Hawaii, mind you. As a result, all my imagination could conjure up was Biloxi but with blue water instead of brown.<br>
<br>
#paradise<br>
<br></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7uN4prcU8sdCz2xa-rVm7HB__jGGA0IKaEn15r8rskS1O6mmS955r_hjSA8KhvVUyA4a-hQS9lHJ7ElENwGjZLdXzEVZjsFeQmkHi7uI6twKynHp24zjNmfZdyZc8WJjnBHhsu3j77g/s400/blogger-image--1314803748.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Ahhhh.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Don't I look all relaxed and tan?<br>
<br>
I didn't think so.<br>
<br>
Oh, well. Stay tuned for my next installment where I'll share how I did something wide and crazy like...only cleaning my lint trap every OTHER day.<br>
<br>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-29222933134368088912014-05-27T13:24:00.003-05:002014-05-27T13:26:46.376-05:00Day 21: #imnotdeadHello there! Long time no blog, eh? Did you think I forgot about you or fell into a coma or was abducted by aliens or something?<br />
<br />
Well, #goodnews! None of those things happened.<br />
<br />
"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." ;)<br />
<br />
#sorry<br />
<br />
I've just come to the end of what was one of the busiest weeks of my life, which left little room for sleep much less blogging about all the busy. But, things are calming down just a bit, so I thought I'd check in with all 2 of you who were wondering how the whole "red" thing's been going lately. (Hi Mom & "insert random FB friend, here")<br />
<br />
It's actually been going pretty well, thanks for asking. As you may remember, the #30daysofred thing was not just about enjoying the color red, but more about taking a beat to do something that made me feel good each day, and as a sideline to that, being intentional about finding things that make me smile/feel grateful or happy each day.<br />
<br />
Let me just say, life is hard...but God is good.<br />
<br />
I know that sounds trite, but I don't know if I've ever been able to say that and really truly mean it...equally strongly on both sides of that statement. I feel like over the past month or so, the things that were hard have gotten harder and more "hard" things have been added. But, as hard as things have been during this time, it's also been remarkably bereft of pity parties or breakdowns. Which, for me, whose Native American name is "Cries At Desk", and given my present circumstances, is pretty amazing.<br />
<br />
That said, there is also a lot of good stuff going on...which I will share later. But, for today, because I have these silly selfies I've yet to use and because one's first blog in a week is not the time to get serious, here's a list of some of happy/silly from the past few days:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Monday - I washed a much needed check. #imnotsmart I left it in my pants pocket and threw it right in the washer. I remembered somewhere around the first rinse cycle, or right about the time the last little chunk of the check disintegrated into nothingness. <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP1sk_e6_VAVqyEo6vajRZFRRNkEc5oHPYpWen320fR0ZvXKDMtiN8YGJuUV_eY5joOQe9iXu0VzoJ79DeEA8PmEAYMu_VuEFbtTf60LXnRmw3cJZEU57kRIgcKBVmMzJyuImWW0Ck9rg/s1600/me+red+20c.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP1sk_e6_VAVqyEo6vajRZFRRNkEc5oHPYpWen320fR0ZvXKDMtiN8YGJuUV_eY5joOQe9iXu0VzoJ79DeEA8PmEAYMu_VuEFbtTf60LXnRmw3cJZEU57kRIgcKBVmMzJyuImWW0Ck9rg/s1600/me+red+20c.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#yikes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>Tuesday & Wednesday - I attended two graduation ceremonies. The best part for me was hearing the interesting names some of these kids had been given. For example, there was a boy with the last name of "Gorgeous" and another with the first name "Righteous", and a girl named "Jennifer Lopez". But my absolute favorite was "Rick James".<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKpn62ju86sR09Bi4aY6mkK5jItKuDoNt719tfdlNLuIJeuzuAiN9U1_W4SQINzwffBgDb9ZFumaFmOsVSoygrVOoiK3WhIG9xeF4qFJpoQMS7Jby53ZnkuuUwhJSeWHHGDpsig6CESc/s1600/me+red+20a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKpn62ju86sR09Bi4aY6mkK5jItKuDoNt719tfdlNLuIJeuzuAiN9U1_W4SQINzwffBgDb9ZFumaFmOsVSoygrVOoiK3WhIG9xeF4qFJpoQMS7Jby53ZnkuuUwhJSeWHHGDpsig6CESc/s1600/me+red+20a.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those names make "Tina" seem not so bad. ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</li>
<li>Wednesday - Another highlight of the graduation festivities was the moment my family spontaneously recreated that famous scene from "My Best Friend's Wedding" where everyone sang "I Say a Little Prayer" at a seafood restaurant...except we sang "Let it Go."</li>
<li>Another tidbit from the graduation celebrations - I learned that my hi-heel skills are equivalent to those of an 8th grade girl...or a new born baby deer. <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ebA6SmR7QeLNApDkbuu5S_WzEMzh-qhO24wDWqp9LXFrhcSvvIUA9qZkSsH3vUSZWRnipE6QgD2ffH7OtZM7pzWedQjN8aeZpkLbSrC-utoNYvL0kp9KLxHy8aMOQNYljUtLD_HmwL0/s1600/me+red+20b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ebA6SmR7QeLNApDkbuu5S_WzEMzh-qhO24wDWqp9LXFrhcSvvIUA9qZkSsH3vUSZWRnipE6QgD2ffH7OtZM7pzWedQjN8aeZpkLbSrC-utoNYvL0kp9KLxHy8aMOQNYljUtLD_HmwL0/s1600/me+red+20b.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>I'll stick with flats, thanks.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>Thursday - I told a co-worker "hashtag calm down." For real. Out loud. I then shared that story at our small group meeting, which led to lots of "hashtag" comments throughout the rest of the discussion. It was awesome. #andtherewasmuchlaughing<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</li>
<li>Saturday - I sang "Let it Go" during a <a href="http://www.redbytina.com/">photoshoot</a>. This knowledge has proved very helpful in coaxing a shy girl to open up and smile on more than one occasion.</li>
<li>Yesterday, I used my knowledge of zombies to coax an adorably stubborn little boy (he folded his arms and pouted and everything) into not only not looking away from my camera, but actually smiling. I also got some cute "toddler doing a zombie imitation" photos...which are all the rage on Pinterest boards now. ;) #truestory<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOpcrFuVrMz_ybZTBBJMO-roULmSpRw9S1b2by4JccPpA5ksbkb2OZ0iAFQiFyB1Zzcv0W651wzRaOjrumJxsOQI4Kf_nxm2aChf7qkWr81uQ_yb74KVbZPO1pxBJq6kCSedR41vHEVw/s1600/me+red+20d.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOpcrFuVrMz_ybZTBBJMO-roULmSpRw9S1b2by4JccPpA5ksbkb2OZ0iAFQiFyB1Zzcv0W651wzRaOjrumJxsOQI4Kf_nxm2aChf7qkWr81uQ_yb74KVbZPO1pxBJq6kCSedR41vHEVw/s1600/me+red+20d.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Have I mentioned I LOVE red lipstick?</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</li>
<li>Speaking of red lipstick, I bought 4 new tubes and two new red nail polishes last week. #itsasickness #sorrynotsorry</li>
</ol>
<br />
<br />
So, that's the listicle catch-up! Until next time...<br />
<br />
Go buy some red lipstick. It's the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
Plus, it will help me feel more normal. ;)<br />
<br />
#thanks<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Disclaimer: This blog is not a paid advertizement for red lipstick and is not sponsored by Revlon or Estee Lauder or Clinique or Cover Girl or any other maker of red lipstick. The opinions expressed in this blog are solely those of the blogger and do not reflect the views of the makers of red lipstick or the general public.</span></i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-87590578011483549812014-05-20T12:34:00.002-05:002014-05-20T12:46:38.752-05:00Day 14: #iwontsayyesterdaysucked but...Yesterday was, in a word, well...in a nice word: hard.<br />
I was exhausted from two mostly sleepless nights, was in a foul mood most of the day, the "Call the Midwife" season finale was very disappointing and, to top it all off, in my exhausted stupor I washed a much-needed check.<br />
<br />
But, because I don't want to be one of those people who fills the internet with griping and negativity...I'm going to list out the things that<s> didn't suck</s> were good about yesterday.<br />
<br />
Here goes:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>I woke up, mostly healthy and able to function...and there was coffee readily available.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVKWEwFIqz82my380v0MzuLyBDq5U211vD1DuWyw6WMeRy48zHvjYgcuB5dQVmeqsZalJFb7nAoUPzLHZJHGDhej2O7WfR8yAC1pkT1FjZCWm9qik_VMsWiKWhZJ7bBN2spkj2NrE3Ps/s1600/coffee+meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVKWEwFIqz82my380v0MzuLyBDq5U211vD1DuWyw6WMeRy48zHvjYgcuB5dQVmeqsZalJFb7nAoUPzLHZJHGDhej2O7WfR8yAC1pkT1FjZCWm9qik_VMsWiKWhZJ7bBN2spkj2NrE3Ps/s1600/coffee+meme.jpg" height="235" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>True. Story.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>My car got me where I needed to go and didn't break down or run out of gas or anything like that.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbQvP-xhArN6Ec6qmrIeCdjpbaPhO64xhO-KCyuPakZCISrjsmUGQ2_H6_UiIp9qvyjSwJsQFpv8hchWzYjsdVtKhysE98aZMQzXujV3zVPEat92C76z8oP88xXeaXzCr_iw5DypN_8U/s1600/goldie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbQvP-xhArN6Ec6qmrIeCdjpbaPhO64xhO-KCyuPakZCISrjsmUGQ2_H6_UiIp9qvyjSwJsQFpv8hchWzYjsdVtKhysE98aZMQzXujV3zVPEat92C76z8oP88xXeaXzCr_iw5DypN_8U/s1600/goldie.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Go, Goldie, Go!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>I had a job to go to that pays me money for the time I spend<s> chained to my desk</s> working.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXvTgzBsa89T-FJ-scSr1j7gwcZJ-OCuBdHhUypk5mSSBDSCtw1SNi7y9KRVNwtTaofiq6YRcepOQXyR-4zepwCBcdGtcOumYuvbsAXoZ-z14hV8KYolT1UPGTnRQk4pvjUOP-Aglm8CM/s1600/Chained+to+Chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXvTgzBsa89T-FJ-scSr1j7gwcZJ-OCuBdHhUypk5mSSBDSCtw1SNi7y9KRVNwtTaofiq6YRcepOQXyR-4zepwCBcdGtcOumYuvbsAXoZ-z14hV8KYolT1UPGTnRQk4pvjUOP-Aglm8CM/s1600/Chained+to+Chair.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Um...whistle while you work?</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
<li>I didn't
get
bitten by a brown recluse spider. (Do yourself a favor and DO NOT <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=brown+recluse+spider+bite&client=firefox-a&hs=W3n&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&channel=sb&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=Enp7U7y5JMbvoASUh4HoBA&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAQ&biw=1547&bih=815">google "Brown Recluse spider bite</a>. Or click that link right there. #nightmarefodder #welcometomynightmare)</li>
<li>I got through the whole day without encountering a single terrorist, nazi, or ne're do well.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZLkZHnVeHyTqQPsE7quAe3qE1Wh5p22MzvFw-BpiVHgCfgHjY4UN9sLKs9PqWzQbWG1dJRkDUPUz2QT2BJko22s8-LHTQrr-jsJStpUiVe5W_GFUIAMskluHmH1R3Dnrdw1WzK_X7n4/s1600/halleluyer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLZLkZHnVeHyTqQPsE7quAe3qE1Wh5p22MzvFw-BpiVHgCfgHjY4UN9sLKs9PqWzQbWG1dJRkDUPUz2QT2BJko22s8-LHTQrr-jsJStpUiVe5W_GFUIAMskluHmH1R3Dnrdw1WzK_X7n4/s1600/halleluyer.jpg" height="400" width="363" /></a></div>
</li>
<li>When I returned home, my house was just as I'd left it: messy, but intact.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CuGHRDMK0P6SpT1TpDLsG0fgBpb46sp_fScfmtsz_dLst1manjEaM0trowuwbW5ITQFZgeisGri87BcNRFMG2asC6nJbaypJTnFEPmf5bjEVYw5X_pgGGdbkcIgwpG3sSLj_f3HvCqw/s1600/clean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CuGHRDMK0P6SpT1TpDLsG0fgBpb46sp_fScfmtsz_dLst1manjEaM0trowuwbW5ITQFZgeisGri87BcNRFMG2asC6nJbaypJTnFEPmf5bjEVYw5X_pgGGdbkcIgwpG3sSLj_f3HvCqw/s1600/clean.jpg" height="250" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
<li style="text-align: left;">I didn't break a single Mason Jar! #andtherewasmuchrejoicing<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/NmPhaG1ud38?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
</li>
<li>There wasn't a zombie apocalypse.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-T6tTPQgK7KTXv3GuAHgmPwj0FYVliYMJqREdbwHTHVWzssNm7wmxNoZAWq6mVYAef5JKcSMAgfbfL1P90Narlqmw_y8xNTBtCVaVI6djSzYXSU5UakSUcNMZXRwl1eopvNi_S_RqvFk/s1600/zombie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-T6tTPQgK7KTXv3GuAHgmPwj0FYVliYMJqREdbwHTHVWzssNm7wmxNoZAWq6mVYAef5JKcSMAgfbfL1P90Narlqmw_y8xNTBtCVaVI6djSzYXSU5UakSUcNMZXRwl1eopvNi_S_RqvFk/s1600/zombie.jpg" height="386" width="400" /></a></div>
</li>
<li>I saw a dog...and it was an Irish Wolfhound!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs791OzKcsYn0j9VhfjwxndBQomGRinhFarqf0JugCQUEWUJ3RTAoOrUeRtyzeQRvq2gaRBVbktGtIprd5G1pT28VaKRXbMgmSwtBkV3MmH-gZ2fwiZWYgftUjfxfvGqW9fKNBxT-CxDU/s1600/wolf.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs791OzKcsYn0j9VhfjwxndBQomGRinhFarqf0JugCQUEWUJ3RTAoOrUeRtyzeQRvq2gaRBVbktGtIprd5G1pT28VaKRXbMgmSwtBkV3MmH-gZ2fwiZWYgftUjfxfvGqW9fKNBxT-CxDU/s1600/wolf.JPG" height="400" width="287" /></a></div>
</li>
<li>I got to spend the evening with one of the sweetest families I know...and there was much laughing.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjs0aduUBNmZT6RCvdfh1Y3OdcK5CO93aYBuQ0LpKzRb0v-bIDbIdTgdP9t3WBOHbt_FVZZx_U3UOKhCbk45pV1FHbscuvAnIg_Mkp_iTteAaIm3LTELRK8O2TNHP1S8Y0sMMmT4rJF7E/s1600/laugh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjs0aduUBNmZT6RCvdfh1Y3OdcK5CO93aYBuQ0LpKzRb0v-bIDbIdTgdP9t3WBOHbt_FVZZx_U3UOKhCbk45pV1FHbscuvAnIg_Mkp_iTteAaIm3LTELRK8O2TNHP1S8Y0sMMmT4rJF7E/s1600/laugh.jpg" height="307" width="400" /></a><a href="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g246/sey115/doihearsinging_zps08e62ed6.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
</li>
<li>Thanks to coconut oil, I smelled delicious all day AND the pain in my sunburn was almost totally gone, allowing me to sleep again...which means, I will no longer be Miss Hannigan. <div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g246/sey115/doihearsinging_zps08e62ed6.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt=" photo doihearsinging_zps08e62ed6.gif" border="0" data-link="id{:placeHolderId}" src="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g246/sey115/doihearsinging_zps08e62ed6.gif" id="placeHolder_0" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g246/sey115/doihearsinging_zps08e62ed6.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
</li>
<li>I didn't get lice or ebola or ecoli or botulism or even amoebic dysentery. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyhXQbFc6DjGzSkSLyu93mpFudwSadt9uunHrwm7akgnSB9nNZdNN_tLi3qwHYvvF64fcWHoZLROM96nNXDh4sDY4LNF9lNhsePXOd-ZWjy0GskLZWfKs9b27ZgvlaX-a62iTP56MHTE/s1600/winning.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></li>
<li>I was not attacked by a bear.</li>
<li>I was not abducted by aliens...at least I think I wasn't. #sneakyaliens</li>
<li>I didn't develop alopecia and lose all my hair.</li>
<li>I had food to eat.</li>
<li> I didn't spill anything on my shirt. #thestruggleisreal</li>
<li>I did not drink a single shot of wheatgrass or eat a single piece of tofu.</li>
<li>I ate meat at every meal.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5tRjjh-WjGBD489ixYQi35rgheSh-TCcwEsrurLLx_SNpTQQjina9bZSB1GaQwCuhjAH_d4NJNQkc7_2vLZ3bYgbUdaPMRSkzXETzkNWCfb-X6VfBcoQcsozO01Wq9YuvzMB9cit6WU/s1600/winning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5tRjjh-WjGBD489ixYQi35rgheSh-TCcwEsrurLLx_SNpTQQjina9bZSB1GaQwCuhjAH_d4NJNQkc7_2vLZ3bYgbUdaPMRSkzXETzkNWCfb-X6VfBcoQcsozO01Wq9YuvzMB9cit6WU/s1600/winning.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1133683948396872583" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
20. Oh, and, of course, I had beautiful red lips!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyaZrE8LLa-T5eLDOHA0qjUBK9zNyRpPC78EbgkmcI3xxN10QYdVa8uXRxGElyokQKIweZ6AVThwjKA3cvy1DlP3cSBRR1XC64WKLILHMCakWnakP3M5WML8DD2vz-xvlpDP4AzSzNvdo/s1600/me+red+14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyaZrE8LLa-T5eLDOHA0qjUBK9zNyRpPC78EbgkmcI3xxN10QYdVa8uXRxGElyokQKIweZ6AVThwjKA3cvy1DlP3cSBRR1XC64WKLILHMCakWnakP3M5WML8DD2vz-xvlpDP4AzSzNvdo/s1600/me+red+14.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Mwah!</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, I guess yesterday<s> didn't suck</s>
was good after all. ;)</div>
</div>
</li>
</ol>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-57308630064631495052014-05-19T13:57:00.000-05:002014-05-19T14:21:54.182-05:00Day 13: #moodswings<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Emotions are fun, aren't they? Especially if you're a girl. They like to do all sorts of interesting things that, not only effect your mood but how you feel physically, how you relate to people, and what food you want to<s> dive face first into</s>
eat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">The most fun days are ones where our emotions decide to either get stubbornly stuck one a particularly unpleasant emotion or to rapid cycle through the full range of emotions in a very short period of time. #good times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">This morning was one of the "stuck on stupid" moments. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">Enjoy. </span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNInAwe7YRx86sQAelF_lMByg_mZqKPLQQuIRISHT56kTzr2Jp5fkwwEq-8GTk-msnkNWrLFGzcpbrcSra-lTXD80FnxTvR_CrOXqapTfq4fETTs556fLr-JCBExOvAeWNwYdYZTGlwfo/s1600/photo+1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNInAwe7YRx86sQAelF_lMByg_mZqKPLQQuIRISHT56kTzr2Jp5fkwwEq-8GTk-msnkNWrLFGzcpbrcSra-lTXD80FnxTvR_CrOXqapTfq4fETTs556fLr-JCBExOvAeWNwYdYZTGlwfo/s1600/photo+1.JPG" height="320" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 7:30am: "We are not amused...and forgot our mascara."</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8UbEMyz62hhFwF1aVaa17UIurRihJjJ6U-JRA6ARRx5C1-Mesq86n4mJXtDatFEei_6l_0RCW4ERerEzAgssV5G2losn0Vz8_AHbLqcqJGzX4cjtDqji8Gjvn2acj1_JZxoS1vgF1Ow/s1600/photo+3.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8UbEMyz62hhFwF1aVaa17UIurRihJjJ6U-JRA6ARRx5C1-Mesq86n4mJXtDatFEei_6l_0RCW4ERerEzAgssV5G2losn0Vz8_AHbLqcqJGzX4cjtDqji8Gjvn2acj1_JZxoS1vgF1Ow/s1600/photo+3.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me 9am - "Ah, mascara. That feels at least 3% better."<br />(Author's note: A friend actually sent the mascara to me via a coworker! As a fellow fair-skinned girl, she knows #thestruggleisreal.)</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmalIffTvqWMVpOBwhfZSSqFqzqkiM1LW-pkdBjqBrKF4LO0WVGDTui6klUjls1dao3BHSgxj_vlOA6XrC8KSt0jpYS0GzmZCLHoh2iC52GAX2ImKH6awlO3_eCfqS1jFXN3AoREfzOk/s1600/photo+4%281%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihmalIffTvqWMVpOBwhfZSSqFqzqkiM1LW-pkdBjqBrKF4LO0WVGDTui6klUjls1dao3BHSgxj_vlOA6XrC8KSt0jpYS0GzmZCLHoh2iC52GAX2ImKH6awlO3_eCfqS1jFXN3AoREfzOk/s1600/photo+4(1).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Though I don't look it in the photo above, I was very grateful!<br />#andtherewasmuchrejoicing</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHs2VrmLfwfbPvvKEsVceTblo7tKQtlq1IX2TUkaujdI8ibzMr4djwmeCO6DDgsg4A1L4MJyRcBgCjbTpF3xOm887NMRqiA_uMFSoARvLT08szhLvtH-DTXfg1lL1lRyddnrHPlbZKbqw/s1600/photo+1%282%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHs2VrmLfwfbPvvKEsVceTblo7tKQtlq1IX2TUkaujdI8ibzMr4djwmeCO6DDgsg4A1L4MJyRcBgCjbTpF3xOm887NMRqiA_uMFSoARvLT08szhLvtH-DTXfg1lL1lRyddnrHPlbZKbqw/s1600/photo+1(2).JPG" height="318" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me 10am: "Ok, Tina, shake it off."</b></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcsSaiw-FSZLaLbUp1p0NR63cn4wfMKCPIIyZxk9J1cABX_lBxyPudslwNJQ4G7FGEvWINe51t7DEbFewL4pPRP6aAgM3XSTWxee7NNCfvwoZUf-S9Rp6HmUAhMgD4XVa0ZJsG5YselRY/s1600/photo+1%283%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcsSaiw-FSZLaLbUp1p0NR63cn4wfMKCPIIyZxk9J1cABX_lBxyPudslwNJQ4G7FGEvWINe51t7DEbFewL4pPRP6aAgM3XSTWxee7NNCfvwoZUf-S9Rp6HmUAhMgD4XVa0ZJsG5YselRY/s1600/photo+1(3).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 10:05am: "Did that person really just ask me to do that?"</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLmUGuZVjTxlkUwBYSgm6Av21Q0ErgGDF8KEAM7neeo_PEOWjc3Lzfy5Nhdl_BiUcsZUr0zej3M0qOpqjxhT0MiqS69u0XrvbUhGOxAm0XQiboVEhRjE-HO_5IEDvlorkGGsMPS5b5NU/s1600/photo+2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLmUGuZVjTxlkUwBYSgm6Av21Q0ErgGDF8KEAM7neeo_PEOWjc3Lzfy5Nhdl_BiUcsZUr0zej3M0qOpqjxhT0MiqS69u0XrvbUhGOxAm0XQiboVEhRjE-HO_5IEDvlorkGGsMPS5b5NU/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="320" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 10:10am: "For Serious?"</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-2HQ0Y1CCi0Agg9Ff_zm8QK6HNw9gUrCJrYRcA905TuXONF1FIUE1iutX5_aBgvIDqxIZG9cW95k8XaMZr7IkVpWsXkLq3FeYnyxVjX7P0vvVpuECCdUrAiFI6dfV0PI7rQE2AaP3cg/s1600/photo+4%282%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-2HQ0Y1CCi0Agg9Ff_zm8QK6HNw9gUrCJrYRcA905TuXONF1FIUE1iutX5_aBgvIDqxIZG9cW95k8XaMZr7IkVpWsXkLq3FeYnyxVjX7P0vvVpuECCdUrAiFI6dfV0PI7rQE2AaP3cg/s1600/photo+4(2).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 10:45am: "Ok, I'm starting to get on my own last nerve now."</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaWqktXKPSmxCvJx708kqQ8NPz3L2q0I9j5YaII8h4tKFizFh69dF3ws4UrnR7ZWCwYlUCL14Tb_7OU3wxMYeEEswre1vl7fzV9cqd2ZoxOImQB3RQwkhOjOMhjEeYy0bX0lGIgza2cw/s1600/photo+5%281%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaWqktXKPSmxCvJx708kqQ8NPz3L2q0I9j5YaII8h4tKFizFh69dF3ws4UrnR7ZWCwYlUCL14Tb_7OU3wxMYeEEswre1vl7fzV9cqd2ZoxOImQB3RQwkhOjOMhjEeYy0bX0lGIgza2cw/s1600/photo+5(1).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 11:00am: "Could I go home 'ticked off'? <br />Could I get a doctor's note for that?"</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpSAjQFCjtVpQ8acbp4WOxk-3hdXp9dtGJssp6KLu4YJCQ_rTQ9C0lL-qy13EfJApFIHrtBs63qf283JYmAcWfSKy0LV3BnTL3gByjSUSpbXVd8VeOPR3gr3Bgw6ZPBXhRvM9Xg2Ew2A/s1600/photo+1(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpSAjQFCjtVpQ8acbp4WOxk-3hdXp9dtGJssp6KLu4YJCQ_rTQ9C0lL-qy13EfJApFIHrtBs63qf283JYmAcWfSKy0LV3BnTL3gByjSUSpbXVd8VeOPR3gr3Bgw6ZPBXhRvM9Xg2Ew2A/s1600/photo+1(1).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 11:30am: "Maybe enjoying a cold, refreshing beverage <br />from an adorable Mason Jar will help?"</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHs2VrmLfwfbPvvKEsVceTblo7tKQtlq1IX2TUkaujdI8ibzMr4djwmeCO6DDgsg4A1L4MJyRcBgCjbTpF3xOm887NMRqiA_uMFSoARvLT08szhLvtH-DTXfg1lL1lRyddnrHPlbZKbqw/s1600/photo+1(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mrlYAp6devhJAQQB-TCNOWbPybhyUrpJAJJZ34pl4EHXTsqZHvmSAwy08CSMMs3dJFhDuqQ8xAmsOlDx_W3z8Buc3inSgjIuqZlHQqkU6zJ4Hs7gpacsKisWGoyzW1qkKpJRemPFp14/s1600/photo+3%281%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mrlYAp6devhJAQQB-TCNOWbPybhyUrpJAJJZ34pl4EHXTsqZHvmSAwy08CSMMs3dJFhDuqQ8xAmsOlDx_W3z8Buc3inSgjIuqZlHQqkU6zJ4Hs7gpacsKisWGoyzW1qkKpJRemPFp14/s1600/photo+3(1).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 11:45am: "Ahhhh."</b></span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQPv0bFGanvFiJl7GwTwLhNSDncdFOEp27qPAUE0j8_KJDDaW4SOdQDVWN1oYcqG0I-mPVrs-j1atD8R9pLco7bpl9-Nam5HbkdnpA3bVJgm8CxpBupjEe0mSY234fZbvLW4NMQTTTGk/s1600/photo+2(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQPv0bFGanvFiJl7GwTwLhNSDncdFOEp27qPAUE0j8_KJDDaW4SOdQDVWN1oYcqG0I-mPVrs-j1atD8R9pLco7bpl9-Nam5HbkdnpA3bVJgm8CxpBupjEe0mSY234fZbvLW4NMQTTTGk/s1600/photo+2(1).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - 11:50am: "That WAS refreshing!"</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiogujQqHFNqwdNlWd-AOGj_dqZdedIfjPTDfEB2W1bTF-ZIYM-nRqJVwXfPD61nkszxNLNnuI0CCrvcfFUY9puBbzDsHMxd7nxTQh17cQimXZPFpp0qb2MeuBryp4noZT2pmfDM_w0Kjc/s1600/photo+2(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiogujQqHFNqwdNlWd-AOGj_dqZdedIfjPTDfEB2W1bTF-ZIYM-nRqJVwXfPD61nkszxNLNnuI0CCrvcfFUY9puBbzDsHMxd7nxTQh17cQimXZPFpp0qb2MeuBryp4noZT2pmfDM_w0Kjc/s1600/photo+2(2).JPG" height="318" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Me - Noon: "Ok, That's better."</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;">(Author's Note: I did not actually take these photos in real time. I have a job that requires me to do actual work. I just took a few minutes of my lunch break to recreate some of the highlights from the morning for our mutual amusement. #yourewelcome.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-66578610302718529832014-05-18T20:04:00.001-05:002014-05-18T20:11:47.073-05:00Day 12: #ouch or "I heart Mason Jars!"<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">First things first, if it is at all possible, my sunburn is even redder today. </span><br />
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And, it hurts. Even the smallest touch is like a million pin pricks. #goodtimes</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>It feels worse than it looks. ;)</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In happier news, <a href="http://sillywomandiary.blogspot.com/2014/05/day-3-thingsiloveor-hi-my-name-is-tina.html">my love for Mason Jars </a>has deepened. </span><br />
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They're not just for cute drinking glasses anymore. ;)<br /><br />I was first turned on to the miracle that is Mason Jars by <a href="http://www.prtliving.com/2014/05/how-to-store-fruits-vegetables.html">my friend Danielle </a>and have spent the past couple of weeks using them in various ways and acquiring every shape and size imaginable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">First, I started using them to make sure I got enough water to drink each day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I don't think I've ever been this well-hydrated in all my life.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjBA4UbT2xCgBD71kNY1DnrduktISi7U-vLJWoHezui5r2yfF9Zwkz_9uK1_NDsIxETJxMY7wmX4lGzgwaxHnHVwAi_wd75y-V6JwJnjjYg__6TlKZjFuldMdl9xZgao9o4pcWzqakiw/s1600/me+red+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjBA4UbT2xCgBD71kNY1DnrduktISi7U-vLJWoHezui5r2yfF9Zwkz_9uK1_NDsIxETJxMY7wmX4lGzgwaxHnHVwAi_wd75y-V6JwJnjjYg__6TlKZjFuldMdl9xZgao9o4pcWzqakiw/s1600/me+red+12.JPG" height="320" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>Staying Hydrated!</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then, I started experimenting with using them in my weekly meal prep. I stored salad in them and chopped fruits and veggies. Danielle swore they would last for days and days. I admit, I was skeptical. But, I'm here to tell you that it really, really works!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>Mason jar food prep!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I bought some strawberries almost a week ago and they are still fresh in their jar. I don't know about you, but sometimes my strawberries barely make it a day or two in their plastic container without getting all bruised and moldy. But, in the mason jar, 5 days later, they are still as fresh as the day I bought them.<br /><br />Carrots, peppers, and salads have also fared equally well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This week, I'm trying other berries and radishes and chicken taco filling. #yum</span><br />
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SO, if you're tired of throwing food away, get thee to the store and buy some Mason Jars, post haste. You won't regret it!</span><br />
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I just love them! They make me so happy...and save me money...and help me make sure I have good, real food on hand so I am less tempted to use the drive-thru...and they are just so stinkin' cute! The only thing that could make me love them more was if they were red...or cured sunburns. ;)</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-7827587998055728922014-05-17T22:23:00.004-05:002014-05-17T22:30:17.027-05:00Day 11: #beach<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">OR "Today's red brought to you by the letters S, U and N."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me and the sun have never really been friends. Don't get me wrong, I love it. I love how it makes everything brighter and more vibrant and just generally happier looking. But, it doesn't love me. You see, the problem is, because my main goal in all of my clothing selections is covering as much flesh as possible, my skin doesn't really see the light of day much. As such, I'm practically transparent. So, when I do venture out in the daylight with some skin exposed, it immediately burns...generally skipping the whole 1st degree thing and going right to 2nd or 3rd. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Also, because I am not often in the sun, when I do find myself basking in its warm glow, I make really bad decisions. For example, sitting out on a pier talking to my cousins for 3 hours with shorts on and no sunscreen. I was unable to wear pants for 2 weeks after that and cried whenever I had to sit down or get back up again for at least 4 days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I wish I could say that was the first and last time I tempted the sun's rays in that foolish way, but no. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For me, it's Expose flesh. Bake. Repeat, apparently.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Today was no exception. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdcjUcFcpoAv-p3zZ5jGx7G3aP_2d9KiGD8yC84heC3ZHcDNgcb5RvFQZ71V_eY4m_8LIS2zVK99trV-K7nk562WN-XvbpaVe5cuCh98ueGTctm53-XIqu14Pa6Qkm1kaK7Rkg4DicSE/s1600/10171754_10152481739308274_5397444031436390773_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdcjUcFcpoAv-p3zZ5jGx7G3aP_2d9KiGD8yC84heC3ZHcDNgcb5RvFQZ71V_eY4m_8LIS2zVK99trV-K7nk562WN-XvbpaVe5cuCh98ueGTctm53-XIqu14Pa6Qkm1kaK7Rkg4DicSE/s1600/10171754_10152481739308274_5397444031436390773_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I decided to drive down to the beach with my niece. I actually did bring super strong sunscreen for her and applied it liberally. What's more, I actually did apply some for myself. But, apparently, I only applied it to the front of me. #imnotsmart</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>Laying on my front (where I applied sunscreen) exposing my back (where I didn't) to the sun.</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I didn't realize that, of course, until I got home and saw this:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NAwv_AaDlypQ9nYd4UH0Kfx-pUbYoUzJARr-py6Ync_QPo1oAb_B-c0K29dAnLgxkxVVVRxt_BEwh8cQH9go07eOrUxBqyrS771G9xNj6YCYB9-oFVUTi5bMPa7Gim7BpRLSEddJr7w/s1600/10299980_10152481743368274_7887188720467030435_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NAwv_AaDlypQ9nYd4UH0Kfx-pUbYoUzJARr-py6Ync_QPo1oAb_B-c0K29dAnLgxkxVVVRxt_BEwh8cQH9go07eOrUxBqyrS771G9xNj6YCYB9-oFVUTi5bMPa7Gim7BpRLSEddJr7w/s1600/10299980_10152481743368274_7887188720467030435_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>#nofilter</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm pretty sure I could cook an egg on my back right now if I wanted to. Not that I would want to, because that would be gross. I'm just saying, the heat coming off that thing is...oh, you know what I mean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Despite the self-inflicted injury, my niece and I had a wonderful time. She is quite the character and there were many quotables from the day. I'll share some to make up for the unappetizing egg reference above.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me: which one would you pick: the ability to fly or breathe under water?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mia: Flying. Because, then, I could fly to Macy's whenever I wanted to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me: We may have to go soon, I have to potty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mia: Just go in the water, act like you're playing, and just pee in there. I do it in Ma Ma's pool all the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me (thinking I sounded sarcastic): Timia Jane! You are banned from the pool!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then, she got upset and almost cried. I clearly need to work on my sarcasm skills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She asked a lot of questions, like: how much does a vanity license plate cost, how does someone hack a bank account, and What I thought about when I was her age. You know, the usual.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I told her I thought about Barbies, being a mommy, singing and dancing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mia: Me too! We have a lot in common. Both our names start with "T". We both like red beans. And, we both love Ma Ma (my mom). Oh, and nail polish!" </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>This girl right here. She has my heart.</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>...and keeps me laughing!</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We connect on a very deep level, as you can tell. ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My two favorite quotables, though were:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mia: I need to do my duty. (pause) Not pooing. I mean, like, work. #thanksforclarifying</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mia (sung to the tune of the song from Frozen): Do you want to get a snoball?!?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She settled for an icee from the corner store instead so I would wouldn't be tempted and wind up with a migraine. Sweet girl.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><b>#snuggleselfie</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, though my "red" came in an unexpected and painful form, it was still a beautiful, joyful, silly day with my beautiful, joyful, silly niece... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and her almost equally silly aunt.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKQ-uYbltRKBxPxZDVX6CqggyUAOgjRy-2NfsSOd-9ql8vRD0dHGSzt_uWLD-fVZSfrYIVqhvBGj5ln2vgHXHmQJDW881MzdVRnWjhR-nUSqirfJqRt9ykS0SnElqh7mC5fv_CtncV_o/s1600/10380967_10152481741413274_7444791671786946079_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKQ-uYbltRKBxPxZDVX6CqggyUAOgjRy-2NfsSOd-9ql8vRD0dHGSzt_uWLD-fVZSfrYIVqhvBGj5ln2vgHXHmQJDW881MzdVRnWjhR-nUSqirfJqRt9ykS0SnElqh7mC5fv_CtncV_o/s1600/10380967_10152481741413274_7444791671786946079_n.jpg" height="400" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-24441108891937658082014-05-16T22:12:00.001-05:002014-05-16T22:50:22.275-05:00Day 10: #lovelyday<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Truth be told, I spent the better part of the morning playing the role of Ms. Grumpypants...but, I got better. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">How could I not on what was such a glorious, sunshiny, bright, breezy and downright lovely day?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In fact, I pretty much kept the song "Lovely Day" on repeat for the latter half of the morning. It's good for what ails ya. Trust me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So is time with family, which is exactly how I spent the last half of the day. I watched my two youngest nephews play in the back of my dad's truck and visit with the neighbors and play in a sprinkler and just generally be two of the cutest buddies ever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh, and as an added bonus and extra dose of red, my neices and I went to one of the most fabulous places on Gods green earth: Target. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But, I still took my obligatory #30daysofred selfie... #yourewelcome ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Day 10 ended with my girlies sleeping over and watching Charlotte's Web. Though, as I type this, we have only seen Charlotte weave two words and they are already asleep. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Some people just can't hang. ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, all in all it wasn't an overly red day and it wasn't a very silly day, but, it was definitely a lovely day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'll take it!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-23551722016990426382014-05-15T11:45:00.000-05:002014-05-15T12:39:37.212-05:00Day 9: #tbt edition. #feelingsentimental<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">#30daysofred: #tbt edition. #feelingsentimental</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Today is Thursday, or as far as the internet is concerned, #TBT (Throwback Thursday). It's a day people post old, usually embarrassing, photos of themselves and/or their family members. It's always a lot of fun. This #TBT finds me feeling a little sentimental and reminiscing about (and mostly feeling thankful for) my childhood. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">I grew up with four brothers. I'm the oldest and the only girl in our family, well, besides my mom. That means, I've pretty much been a bonus mom since I was 3, and that I know more than the average girl does about football, wrestling, MMA, and sports movies. (Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!) At one point, I even collected football cards and traded with the boys. #truestory. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Having four brothers also means that my sense of humor, all too often, trends towards the unladylike. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">But, truth be told, I wouldn't trade any of my brothers for a sister...and not just because I would have had to share my room and barbies. Sure, they were loud and rough and really, really gross and messy sometimes, but they were also really fun! And, if nothing else, they helped ensure that, should I ever marry, I won't have any delusions about men being other than they are in their natural habitat. ;) </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me, mom and our boys. </span></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Author's note: First...check out all those tube socks! Second...I used to BEG my oldest brother to borrow that FAB Def Leppard British Flag shirt...and really want one right now!)</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_D9nvIN5N1jdCjFP8YPxpZ_HnIH_JjiXkwJ1Akgl8d3v6dfphmWXDvlDOrjZCJ5-CBM_FJuxUutFRYoKLRBYcjkPuC95_NFGnqcRbbMrEJ25GPcH3muhpH4X64mYAIrqnCEZDVmzGaY/s1600/boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_D9nvIN5N1jdCjFP8YPxpZ_HnIH_JjiXkwJ1Akgl8d3v6dfphmWXDvlDOrjZCJ5-CBM_FJuxUutFRYoKLRBYcjkPuC95_NFGnqcRbbMrEJ25GPcH3muhpH4X64mYAIrqnCEZDVmzGaY/s1600/boys.jpg" height="400" width="315" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Photobooth fun!</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Life in a large family wasn't always singing songs in matching outfits our mom made herself, but we always managed to find the fun and made some pretty great memories along the way. In fact, one of the best things about our family was that it was big. I don't just mean that our individual family was big, though it was, I mean our extended family was big, too. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">There's a line in the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" about how the main character has 30 first cousins...well, I had 28 first cousins, 14 on both mom's and dad's side. Dad was one of 6 boys and mom had 3 brothers and, for most of my childhood, the majority of us lived within 10-15 minutes of each other. That made for a lot of togetherness and a lot of memory-making opportunities.<br /><br />Some of the fondest of those memories are:</span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dad's banana pancakes. They were a Saturday morning staple.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rainy day picnics on the living room floor. </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Snuggling all together on the sofa to listen to Bill Cosby comedy albums, laughing our heads off. #wedontneednotv</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Playing charades when the power went out. I was always awesome, but my brother's could never guess my clues. My "Gone with the Wind" was EPIC! :P</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shark Week with the brothers. It was an EVENT!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Singing with dad while he played the guitar and hoping it would be my turn to do the percussion part on the Moody Blues' "Timothy Leary".</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coffee and fresh bread at Ma Ma's house with the neighbors.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Forcing my brothers to play dress-up because I had no sisters and they owed me.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Playing Olympic Games on our Commodore 64. #cleanandjerk</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Decorating the Christmas Tree to Bing Crosby's Christmas album. #melekalikimaka</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">The boys tormenting me while we decorated the Christmas tree by insisting on playing "Dominic the Donkey" over and over and over. #heehawheehawheehaw</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">The smell of my grandparent's house.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">The smell of my grandfather's Zippo lighter.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our dog, Samantha. Except for the shedding thing, she was the most perfect dog, ever. She potty trained herself and was the sweetest thing on God's green earth.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Homeroom with my friend Heather from 6th grade-12th grade. She pretty much knew every detail of my life for 6 years!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking around the block "one more time" talking about everything and nothing with my friend, Stacy.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking around the block at Ma & Pa's talking about everything and nothing with my cousin Jennifer.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Singing and dancing in my dresser mirror."Knock on Wood" was a favorite.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Reading my first real book on the ugly green tweed-looking sofa in our living room when I was home sick one day. It was "Little House on the Prairie."</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Doing splits, constantly, just because I could.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Making up roller skating routines with my neighbor, Chantel, in our driveways. We even made up a song to skate to about Charlie's Angels. "Charlie's Angels! We get after those crooks. Bang! Bang! Ugh!" </span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Countless sleepovers with my cousins, Jenny & Christy. #tootie</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Chocolate Divinity ice cream in melamine coffee mugs at Ma & Pa's...and fighting over who got the "little spoon."</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Carrot salad and cabbage ball at Mike Miley playground for our family picnics.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking to and from school with the neighborhood kids every day.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thanksgiving dinner at the big, long "kids" table, laughing so hard dirty rice came out our noses.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Spending weekends in Baton Rouge with Nanny and Stacey.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Spending weekends at the Ponda (my great aunt's camp in Mississipi) and just feeling free.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking around the Quarter with the family on a Sunday afternoon, doing nothing really, and it being the best day anyway.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">How much we laughed...most of the time at each other. ;) </span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Idyllic? Probably not. But, it was as good as we knew how to make it...and that was pretty darn good. #feelingblessed</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLWeMOfLOEX4P_3STThKd3E1gUbUrk4S9yJ5oEvXte2DfEX7qSZnkmrK0JPXLWO56nD-a_Fp1w8T2dB31t0n0bG-HZnGWzLRqv6oJQ54R8K5TPYAbizcCFZPAn0SndJpmQOlJaZi_-Ss/s1600/boys2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLWeMOfLOEX4P_3STThKd3E1gUbUrk4S9yJ5oEvXte2DfEX7qSZnkmrK0JPXLWO56nD-a_Fp1w8T2dB31t0n0bG-HZnGWzLRqv6oJQ54R8K5TPYAbizcCFZPAn0SndJpmQOlJaZi_-Ss/s1600/boys2.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Our boys, all growed up! #handsome</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1133683948396872583.post-80541734386408518642014-05-14T13:13:00.003-05:002014-05-14T13:18:11.572-05:00Day 8: #72selfies<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">The first time I realized the effect "red" had on me, well, things got a bit out of hand. I felt so good, so sassy, so easy-breezy-beautiful-Cover Girl, that I took about 72 selfies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">And, posted several.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Over the course of three days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyPPnhv48Xzk730E2hGQBWzVSCA6WXtLtrN-bLIIRj6UBSnEOcXVKls44OzoEJhSFOLKDfgHIvY06l_XOinG8HjeEGD1Wzjyujddbm3SC_a0vLL6u8wCSO3b5OOtxy0xOv-Qjrpeu0qR0/s1600/me+red+8c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyPPnhv48Xzk730E2hGQBWzVSCA6WXtLtrN-bLIIRj6UBSnEOcXVKls44OzoEJhSFOLKDfgHIvY06l_XOinG8HjeEGD1Wzjyujddbm3SC_a0vLL6u8wCSO3b5OOtxy0xOv-Qjrpeu0qR0/s1600/me+red+8c.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Feelin' good...</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsujx6StlY8QzHyY3FkXCNrHFlUrZ6BzM4wZUqG6wdZ5OjasQfPmO0C7Hi6dOqUMo5Ranyxf7I2Gf4PiLPkTkRd4MBjgzXLMQjo5AZFjtvlXnFINVD8Th-kYrbwGJCeUd0kc_OzS9zu8/s1600/me+red+8d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsujx6StlY8QzHyY3FkXCNrHFlUrZ6BzM4wZUqG6wdZ5OjasQfPmO0C7Hi6dOqUMo5Ranyxf7I2Gf4PiLPkTkRd4MBjgzXLMQjo5AZFjtvlXnFINVD8Th-kYrbwGJCeUd0kc_OzS9zu8/s1600/me+red+8d.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Oh. Dear.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fl3Xzkja3jVJO7M7B1ZfYcxAGG53UnYkOAn6a3cLOlxOQEYVMi9bZ0kbOBmgdxj_mDzVLtCTKeC2-0GXFw8dgLiMEeP_LSJ4KqKrcA0PUDAt0Fuy3l3P0Qb8N_kGa0Tigh1lRl3PI_8/s1600/me+red+8e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fl3Xzkja3jVJO7M7B1ZfYcxAGG53UnYkOAn6a3cLOlxOQEYVMi9bZ0kbOBmgdxj_mDzVLtCTKeC2-0GXFw8dgLiMEeP_LSJ4KqKrcA0PUDAt0Fuy3l3P0Qb8N_kGa0Tigh1lRl3PI_8/s1600/me+red+8e.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I really need to get over myself.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcO1ZJr-efTS8qUjrH8FidwJq30QdDX6G4ax86n8A3SE_8ROOIO44TB8uew3GGOl4vFfl5JXAYP-GExXcwLv23mK67iEGUteDoc3xs0I_yeOtWAIiA2jVKO_Bo7xhTTpF8YwRJpIgHV1U/s1600/me+red+8b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcO1ZJr-efTS8qUjrH8FidwJq30QdDX6G4ax86n8A3SE_8ROOIO44TB8uew3GGOl4vFfl5JXAYP-GExXcwLv23mK67iEGUteDoc3xs0I_yeOtWAIiA2jVKO_Bo7xhTTpF8YwRJpIgHV1U/s1600/me+red+8b.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">"I wear a fez now. Fezes are cool."</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I then issued a formal apology to all of Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">But, I didn't really mean it. #fingerscrossed #sorrynotsorry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">"I feel so good I wanna take 72 selfies" days are very few and far between for me...much to the relief of the internet. But, we all want that feeling, right? We all want to feel good in our own skin. We all want to not only be OK with who we are, but love who we are...be our biggest fan, right? Not in an arrogant Kardashian kind of way, but as opposed to being our own harshest critic, and in a way that gives us the confidence to dream and go hard after those dreams. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I know it can't just be me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">So, here's wishing you 72 selfie days (whether you post them or not), days that feel like anything is possible, days of joy and sunshine, days full of green lights and open doors and long stretches of highway and twirling and singing and happy, sassy, red (or whatever your happy color is!)<br /><br />Because...You're worth it!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I'm full of cosmetic slogans today. #thanksmarketingpeople<br /><br />In closing, here is today's #30daysofred photo, with bonus strawberry.Um...cuz it's red and stuff.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMTzH5Lz3kMjsuHyE0m4chrW8_kUDoHBtxyRA9ntW4CcCDKsB9f7blUuCcWd51eqUWKkMbUWjFm5JqOtGpZdmYbv5ZAyDV7rTC95ICYPO0pJVFH3E0vQvOSq0AmuMxm2Vbc2lWI1GihI/s1600/me+red+8a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMTzH5Lz3kMjsuHyE0m4chrW8_kUDoHBtxyRA9ntW4CcCDKsB9f7blUuCcWd51eqUWKkMbUWjFm5JqOtGpZdmYbv5ZAyDV7rTC95ICYPO0pJVFH3E0vQvOSq0AmuMxm2Vbc2lWI1GihI/s1600/me+red+8a.jpg" height="318" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">#yum</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08733714635892231849noreply@blogger.com0