tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18558325205026532352024-03-04T23:36:26.897-05:00No Better Place to BeEmilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-42663053164677500172015-02-09T12:23:00.002-05:002015-02-09T12:28:55.923-05:00Reflections just hours prior to finding out your gender<div>
In approximately 5 hours, your father and I will be told if you are a boy or a girl.<br />
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I can't help but find myself so nervous to know the news. Not because I want or don't want you to be one or the other, but because our lives are about to change forever. My role as mother will be defined by the words we hear later this afternoon.<br />
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For weeks I have been feeling you move inside of me. You kick when I sip some coffee, eat a cookie, or finish dinner and then go relax on the couch. I first felt you on New Years Eve while driving home. I guess you wanted to make sure that I didn't make it all the way through 2014 without physically feeling you inside of me.<br />
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Your father first felt you the other night, 2/3, on one of the evenings that I was relaxing on the couch. I felt such relief when he felt it too. I had been placing his hand on my belly for weeks and the three of us finally succeeded in timing everything just right. I knew he felt it before he admitted it. His eyes wrinkled up in the genuine smile he gives when something brings him instant joy that he can't even try to hide it. He looked at me and nodded.<br />
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I imagine he will flash the exact same smile this afternoon. Once we see you for the first time since our 8 week ultrasound. Once we hear your heartbeat again. (It was 152 at the last Dr's appointment) And of course, once the sonographer announces what you are.<br />
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What you are will become who you are and who God plans for you to become. It is an exciting adventure to be called to assist you on that path. To help form your conscience, to teach you to talk and listen to God. He will put paths before you in life and through much prayer, you can determine which ones He wills for you. You will make mistakes and sometimes choose wrong over right, but it is your father's and my responsibility to show you God's forgiveness and how to try again through His mercy. We are prepared to do whatever it takes to lead your soul to heaven. What an awesome responsibility asked of us.<br />
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There are only a few hours that remain that separate what I've always known and what is to come for the rest of our lives. Whether you are a boy or a girl, we will love you unconditionally and spend the rest of our lives working for the good of you and your soul. See you in a few hours, sweet baby of ours.</div>
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-48029033244386160632015-01-05T09:21:00.002-05:002015-01-05T09:22:11.278-05:00"Miracles DO Happen!"<div>
"Miracles DO Happen!"</div>
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My FIL could not have worded it better when he found out the news that after 6 1/2 years of infertility, we were finally expecting.</div>
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6 and a half years. That is 78 months. 78 times that our hearts were broken and tears were shed; the uncontrollable kind that show up no matter where you are. 78 times that we pleaded with God and questioned what our purpose in life was. 78 times that I cursed my body repeatedly and then quickly turned around and gave it a pep talk to try again.</div>
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We felt our share of letdowns, heartache, grief and mourning. Anyone who has ever experienced any length of infertility can attest to this: the pain is not a one-time thing that you eventually come to grips with over time. It is not "Oh yeah, I can't have kids, that's just life. Now let's travel the world." You are reminded monthly of a loss of something that you never had to begin with, and thus begin a entirely new grieving process at the very beginning, every 28 days or so. Rinse, lather, repeat. </div>
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Even as I would near the end of a new month, I would tell myself that I was not pregnant, to try and ease the approaching pain.</div>
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It was so excruciating. But we never, ever, ever lost hope. (Though we came oh so close.)</div>
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Yes, we changed our game plans, numbers of times. We revised our outlooks constantly, which is what kept our hope alive. I had 4 surgeries, the two final ones through a local Naprotechnology doctor. I took countless medications and gave myself plenty of injections. I had HSGs, where they inject dye into your fallopian tubes and take xrays, probably a few dozen times. I took hormone tests. I had my blood drawn. Sometimes once a month, other times every other day for a month. </div>
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Throughout each of the phases of each and every step, I always thought to myself: this is out of unconditional love that I have for someone who may never exist. I would tell my future child in my head over and over: "This is for you. I love you."</div>
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So when I found myself alone in the bathroom staring down at a positive pregnancy test one early morning in October, I went into a state of shock.</div>
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My only coping mechanism for the past 6 1/2 years had been to convince myself that it was not going to happen. (I still had hope that it would- but would try to trick myself into believing that it would not. Devil's advocate, if you may.) And now I had to not only convince myself that it had happened, but also convince my husband, doctor, and everyone else around me? I did not even know how to *be* pregnant. What would I do?</div>
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After screaming Jim out of sleep and showing him the shaky test that rested between my unsettled grip, I contacted my Napro doctor. True to her nature, she replied back immediately, on her day off, at 7:30 am. Along with some advice on medical management, she wrote:</div>
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"God's will is always done, especially when we surrender."</div>
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So there I stood. At the edge of my bed, a test in one hand, my phone in the other, carrying a life inside of me that I prayed for years for. And almost instinctively, I knew instantly that this was the time. This present moment was planned for his or her life to be beginning. This is the time that God intended it for. Because something great and wonderful is destined for him/her in the future. Just like I was not meant to be born before 1982- (I would not have known my friends in the way I know them today, I probably would not have met my husband and father to this baby); he or she was not called by God until now. What a beautiful life that He must have planned.</div>
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I have no regrets on any part of this journey. I am happy that my husband and I said yes to every treatment, surgery, diagnostic measure and medication. I am glad that we surrendered every step of the way to God's will and never gave up hope that we were to constantly remain open to life. I am eternally grateful for Naprotechnology, my incredibly talented doctor who performed some major miracles during my most recent surgery, and my dear friend who recommended her to me. </div>
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I may tell my Naprotechnology story one day. It is an incredible testament. But for now I am going to enjoy these days that we prayed so long and hard for and finally say: </div>
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I am pregnant. I get to labor and give birth to our child. I will breastfeed and rock him/her to sleep at night. Together with my husband we will teach him/her to pray, the ABCs, how to ride a bike, when to apologize, and how to make the best ice cream brownie sundae. </div>
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I anticipate someday when my life has neared its end, I will look back over everything. It may be at that moment when life is full and everything is lined up and in place in my memory when I can finally say: "God, I now understand why you waited until 2014 to send us our child. What a life you had planned to be lived!"</div>
Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-85725168849116318292014-09-13T17:10:00.002-04:002014-09-13T17:10:35.490-04:00Summer: Lake George Vacation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We spent a week at Lake George again this year. It was a week full of relaxing, laughter with friends and family, and some adventures with the dogs. The week always goes by too quickly, but we always spend the next year anticipating our next trip! Here are a few pictures:)</div>
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We hiked up Sunrise Mountain one day. I was on this hike when I found out about Robin Williams' passing, and that is what I will always think of now when I think of Sunrise Mountain. It's hard to stay up on current events at Lake George because we don't have a tv, internet, and there is no cell service (love that!). My friend Amber told me about it on the way up the mountain, as her friend had seen it on the newspaper earlier that morning.<br />
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I was SO excited to learn before our trip that we would be seeing one of the "supermoons" of the summer while at the lake; which meant seeing it come up over the mountain! Amber and I found the perfect spot to set up our tripods and camp out while we waited for the moon to rise. (We went to the neighbors' for the best view!) The next few pictures are the August supermoon rise, and some of the moon over the lake, making it very bright and looking like daytime.<br />
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This is taken at 10 pm, shortly after the moon rose! It was so calm and beautiful.<br />
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One of our neighbors' houses. So cozy.<br />
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We rented a boat on the warmest day of the week. Here are a few shots:<br />
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We had such a wonderful time catching up with life-long friends. My cousin was there for the week as well with her son and husband:</div>
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Me + Tracey = BFF!<br />
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My niece and I having fun one afternoon. (photo by Erinn Spack)</div>
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We had some fun nights at the campfire (photo by Erinn Spack)</div>
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Lastly, a hummingbird that Opa keeps well-fed:)</div>
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Until next year!</div>
Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-19620562821733393992014-09-05T21:19:00.000-04:002014-09-05T21:19:01.031-04:00My Summer (Part Bobby's Visit)2014 was a great summer! There were several highlights. One of the best was my favorite nephew coming to visit!<br />
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This is how every out-of-town visitor who is flying in starts. I sit at my desk at work, hitting "refresh" every few seconds, until I see that they are descending. It is torture and like watching water boil!!!!<br />
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Of course, we had to take a pit stop at the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. <br />
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Sadie and Bobby picked up right where they left off- goofing around and catching up:)</div>
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I highly recommend Monticello, home of Thomas Jefferson! We took our friends there in January (which embarrassingly enough was my first time! oops!). It is definitely a place for children and adults. Bobby loved it! As did Jim's mom.<br />
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Using an old fashioned camera.<br />
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The gardens there were beautiful. They grow every vegetable and herb you can imagine. I took about 50 photos because I wanted to capture all the ideas down! You're welcome for not posting them all :)<br />
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We had lunch at the tavern at Monticello where they served southern food buffet style, by candle light. Outside of the tavern, they had an area where you could play old fashioned games. Here's a blurry shot of Bobby trying his hand at one.</div>
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Fortunately there was a carnival in town the weekend that Bobby was here! He loved it, and even won me a goldfish.... (RIP Mr. Skittles:( )</div>
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More fun at home....<br />
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It had been a few years since Bobby had been to visit. One of his favorite memories though, was tasting the oil and vinegar at the local shop. He begged us to go back. However, it wasn't quite as he remembered, as evidenced in this picture!!!!</div>
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We hung out at the pool for a few days...<br />
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We took him to the local farmer's market, where he picked out this unusual peach.<br />
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Jim smoked two different types of meat, wow!!!! I am drooling just looking at this picture again! Delicious!! </div>
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When Bobby was little, he couldn't say "Auntie"; it always came out "Tummie". To this day, he calls me "Tummie Emmie".<br />
He told me to close my eyes at one of the antique shops that we were in. I obliged, only to open them and see this!!! I think it would be so cool to have this picture framed. Bobby is a very sweet child and I look forward to his next visit!<br />
Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-21934763470043872982014-07-16T19:52:00.002-04:002014-07-16T19:56:03.419-04:00The Best Vanilla Iced Coffee!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iZU86Saol2ZWGMmRqiDN-yQ5WcjhQ__rREUAXPcv7TOiGUT-4Bz0TNbGxE8yGWVOxdjAoiIDzwqH7X6A76QG1P5c0OPzQehGMfKtAScc7066wW7Dbx1zFrP24Tbfwjl6ofi5wR0N_i49/s1600/coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iZU86Saol2ZWGMmRqiDN-yQ5WcjhQ__rREUAXPcv7TOiGUT-4Bz0TNbGxE8yGWVOxdjAoiIDzwqH7X6A76QG1P5c0OPzQehGMfKtAScc7066wW7Dbx1zFrP24Tbfwjl6ofi5wR0N_i49/s1600/coffee.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<em>for <a href="http://littlelovesoflife.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Lisa</a></em><br />
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A strong claim, I know. But it's really good and pretty easy!<br />
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This recipe has multiple steps that you can start days in advance. I always have 2 items on hand:<br />
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-Coffee Ice Cubes (Not necessary but makes it less watery)<br />
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-and Vanilla simple syrup. (Similar to the syrup they use at Starbucks!).<br />
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I always make extra coffee on Sunday mornings and pour the excess into ice cube trays.<br />
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The recipe for the vanilla simple syrup is below.<br />
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I usually anticipate that I am going to drink iced coffee several hours to a day ahead of time. That way, I have time to make a normal cup of coffee, and either sit it on the counter to cool or put in the fridge overnight:)<br />
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Once I am ready for the coffee, I start by putting several ice cubes in a cup, followed by about 1-2 tablespoons of the simple syrup.<br />
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<em>Sometimes,</em> I will add a squirt of this delicious caramel sauce. It is the closest I have ever found to the kind they use at Starbucks. I found this in Walmart in the coffee aisle. It just adds a tiny bit more sweetness!<br />
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After the optional caramel sauce, I pour in the coffee (not pictured). Now comes the good stuff.</div>
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You can use your favorite creamer. I personally love this local half & half. It is SO rich and very creamy. For a long time I was using plain milk until my husband brought this home one day. I have to say, it makes such a difference!<br />
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Add the optional straw and mix up! It goes great with any breakfast and tastes so refreshing on these warm summer days!<br />
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What I love about iced coffee is you can drink it fast! Which means you can wake up even faster:)<br />
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A great outdoor space always helps too!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Best Vanilla Iced Coffee</span><br />
-Few cups of brewed coffee, chilled (however many cups you'd like)<br />
-Several coffee ice cubes<br />
-1-2 tbs Vanilla Simple Syrup (recipe below)<br />
-Splash of Milk, creamer, or half & half<br />
-Caramel sauce, optional<br />
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1.) Start with a cup mostly full of ice cubes. Pour in 1-2 tbs of simple syrup. Can increase/decrease depending on desired sweetness.<br />
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2.) Pour in chilled coffee, leaving room for creamer.<br />
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3.) Add creamer. Enjoy!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Vanilla Simple Syrup</span><br />
-Water<br />
-Sugar<br />
-Vanilla Extract<br />
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1.) Add one cup of water and one cup of sugar to a saucepan. Bring to a light boil over medium-high heat.<br />
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2.) Once boiling, reduce heat to low and allow to simmer for 5 minutes.<br />
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3.) Remove from heat. Once mixture has cooled, add 1 teaspoon of vanilla. Stir well.<br />
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4.) Store in refrigerator until ready for use.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-15982767178800615062014-07-07T19:44:00.000-04:002014-07-07T19:44:11.008-04:00My Favorite Holiday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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The 4th of July has always been my favorite holiday. It started that way mostly because it meant it was the beginning of a long summer at Lake George. While that's unfortunately not the case anymore, it remains my favorite because everyone is so happy! There's good food, festive activities, and reasons to get together and have a BBQ. This year was great since July 4 fell on a Friday, that meant a 3 day weekend! Nothing kills the 4th of July buzz faster than a July 4 Wednesday, with work early the next day. :)</div>
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This year we went to the annual car show in town again. <br />
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We went to 2 different BBQs: one at an English family's house, and another at some friends across town. One friend has a knack for making killer sangrias. Here was her July 4th one:<br />
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We made peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream.<br />
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On Saturday we took a hike in the Shenandoah! <br />
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We hiked along a stream nearly the entire way, which meant lots of little waterfalls. Sadie was in heaven. The water was so clear, cool and refreshing!<br />
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We found a patio set for 50% off in July! I was expecting to wait until October at least to find a sale like that. We got lucky:)<br />
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I've been perfecting my iced coffee recipe. I think I finally have it down. The secret is coffee ice cubes, vanilla simple syrup, and half-and-half produced locally. So refreshing!<br />
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Also not pictured: our Hibachi night out with friends, complete with the chef pouring sake into our mouths and drinks that came out on fire.<br />
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It was such a beautiful weekend. There was 0 humidity and the weather stayed in the 70's/low 80's for the most part. It was almost like I was at Lake George. :)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-39143463192036566362014-07-07T19:29:00.000-04:002014-07-07T19:29:00.212-04:00Recent Happenings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
What's been going on recently:</div>
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The weather finally turned beautiful (ok, like 3 months ago) and we've been enjoying our new deck!<br />
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We've slowly been adding furniture:)<br />
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Sadie loves it, obviously!<br />
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We really have enjoyed some beautiful sunsets. And of course with some <a href="http://www.rappahannockcellars.com/" target="_blank">Rappahannock</a> wine! <br />
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So we decided to add some height to our front flower bed this year. (We always seem to buy a new tree or bush each spring.) This year we bought the "blue star" from the nursery. Not extremely blog-worthy except as we were checking out, we 300 received free.....</div>
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Live ladybugs.<br />
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I released them ASAP.<br />
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Work is going well. <br />
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And as always, I love capturing the most random vehicles as we all sit together on 66:<br />
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-60223316528093144322014-05-25T16:07:00.000-04:002014-05-25T16:07:51.492-04:00Jim and I went to mass at our normal time this morning. But this mass turned out to be different. We had our hearts broken about half way through.<br />
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We live in a small town; therefore we attend a small church, with a small congregation (compared to many churches in our diocese). There are not nearly as many children who make up the population ratio as we have seen at other parishes. But, there are children. Their ages range from newborns and up. And every time one happens to sit down in front of us, Jim squeezes my hand. Seeing children in the church always brings us joy.<br />
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So we paid normal attention today as the pews around us filled up with families with young children. A toddler here, a baby there, squeeze. A few tried to imitate the "Alleluia", which always make me start giggling.<br />
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The priest began his homily this morning about how each and every one of us is given gifts, and the greatest gift we can use, through the Holy Spirit, is love. I smiled up at Jim as we listened to Father explain how every single one of us has unique gifts that we can use to share this love. I thought about how Jim shares his love with me, how I could be better about sharing it with him. I looked around at the mothers and fathers in the surrounding pews, showing their own children love, first and foremost by bringing them to Church.<br />
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And that's when it happened.<br />
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A tiny child, probably 1-2 years old, in the pew diagonal from us, let out a tiny childlike sigh. It was not his first, but what did it matter? I hardly even noticed it, just like most everyone else. What I did notice (enough to distract me), was a grown woman, with her grown children next to her, in front of this child. I watched as she squinted her eyes closed with a look of rage on her face, and she started to shake. This is when I tapped Jim on the arm. I pointed her way with my eyes. Something that I never do during mass, but I knew that something bad was about to happen. <br />
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At that moment, the woman turned around in a jerked, hastened motion. Her brows furrowed, her finger and her head shook in rhythm of her anger. I could not hear what she said, but her message was clear.<br />
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She had asked the family <em>TO LEAVE THE MASS.</em><br />
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I watched as a young mother and father carried their two very young children out. <br />
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The children were wide-eyed, confused. Their parents had tears stinging their eyes.<br />
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"And each one of us is called to love...", the priest continued.<br />
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I looked up at Jim, and he back at me. Our mouths were open, our faces full of shock and sadness. Tears stung my own eyes.<br />
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I did not concentrate very much for the rest of the mass. I kept thinking about that family. Will they return to this parish? Are they sitting in the car, fighting right now? Is their son called to be a priest? And the nagging: <em>Why didn't I stop them from leaving?</em><br />
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As we got in the car to leave mass, Jim and I agreed not to talk about it, as we had nothing charitable to say. But I did start to cry again.<br />
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I told Jim this much, that if I could say anything to that family that was told to leave, by a fellow mother at that, it would be this: <br />
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"Thank you for bringing your children to mass. We cannot have children. Seeing other people's children for one hour every week brings me more joy than I can describe. Shaking little hands at the sign of peace gives me continued hope. When I hear them cry, scream, laugh, or attempt to sing, I smile. Children are the next generation of the church. They will become future priests, sisters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and godparents. So please, bring them to mass. Let them sing and try to respond with the rest of the congregation. Because even though their timing and pitch is off, they are learning more each week how to be a Christian."<br />
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And just as their are no coincidences, I guess this couple was meant to hear these words. Because as I finished telling Jim what I would say, we pulled into the grocery store next to a white sedan. And out popped this family.<br />
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I approached her, and I told her everything as our husbands walked away.<br />
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And she broke down and sobbed, in the middle of the parking lot, with the blonde-haired baby on her hip.<br />
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Thank you, moms and dads. Thank you from two of us who can't, but receive much joy from those who can.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-49353214967394888292014-03-04T21:03:00.000-05:002014-03-04T21:03:38.677-05:00A Kindred Spirit Came to VisitOne of my kindred spirits came to visit me in January.<br />
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It was her second visit to Virginia, but this time she brought her husband.<br />
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Before I continue, let me go back a bit. Almost 10 years ago, when I first met Amber.<br />
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Amber had finally turned 18 and as she had vowed years earlier, was on her way to spend the summer away from her home and small town in FL. I was on my way to spend my 21st summer at the lake. I was going to spend the summer scooping ice cream for the tourists. Amber was going to help a few nights every week, in addition to working in the dining room on campus.<br />
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Amber was so cool. She was the outgoing, optimistic girl that all the boys had a crush on. She had a way of making anyone feel loved. She never swore, she went to church on Sunday mornings and she sang in the talent show. She was way cooler than me but for some reason wanted to be my friend.<br />
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We spent the summer getting to know each other. She dyed my hair and helped me get the perfect thin-eyebrow that was so-2004. We made lists of what we wanted to do each day that we had off together: go on picnics, work on art, and of course go to Walmart. We hit it off and before we knew it, we were dancing on the bathroom sink singing Maroon 5.<br />
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When the summer ended, we kept in close touch. There was no facebook or texting yet which was the most perfect way to make memories. She sent me the most creative cards and notes that always lifted my spirits in the dark days of Ohio winters:<br />
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There would always be a surprise inside: tea bags, glitter, pictures, itineraries for future reunions, etc.<br />
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We finally did get that reunion, after 4 1/2 long months! We met back up for a New Years bash:<br />
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And 3 months after that, I met Amber in her homeland of sunny FL for spring break:<br />
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Orlando</div>
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at Jimmy's Buffet's</div>
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We spent another summer together in 2005 as roommates. Our dorm room was themed with palm trees and sea shells. We spent that summer making plans after graduation: we'd open a coffee shop together in FL with her art and my math skills. For some reason I cannot find any photos of our room. It was gorgeous though. I hope 9 years later that it's still painted that beachy green color.</div>
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I didn't get to see Amber again until 2009. We had yet another reunion and she finally met Jim!</div>
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Our old stomping grounds: the Store. </div>
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Sipping on our favorite: Saranac. After indulging in jalepenos of course.</div>
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So you could imagine my excitement when Amber announced that she was bringing her husband to Virginia. Granted it was the ugliest month of the year (January) for Virginia. But we made sure to have a blast!<br />
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Fresh off the train</div>
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Amber making us laugh.</div>
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Monticello.</div>
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Our husbands proudly displaying their $2 bill in front of Monticello.</div>
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Goofing around on the walk to Monticello.</div>
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Right after Amber got in trouble for climbing the tree by security...and I obviously had to social-media it.</div>
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On the steps where ole Tom once stood.</div>
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In front of Amber's name. </div>
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We had such a busy schedule while they were here. We went to Monticello, Mount Vernon, DC, Luray Caverns, and my personal favorite, Rappahannock Winery. It snowed hard that night and we had massive snowball fight in the back yard afterwards. Couple vs. couple. Not pictured :(<br />
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What a blessing a Kindred Spirit is. They can live near or very far south. I am looking forward to the next time we reunite. It will be by summer for sure. Because we have a lake in common that will forever whisper both of our names when we've been away for too long. In the meantime, we shall make our lists through confetti-filled snail mail of what our next reunion will be like.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-1638493185642887742014-02-23T17:01:00.000-05:002014-02-23T17:01:20.916-05:00Finally, a Taste of SpringSpring is my favorite season. It hasn't always been, (as a kid, who doesn't love summer the most?).<br />
But since college, I crave that first hint that Spring is coming.<br />
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It happened today. After the coldest, longest winter in my life, we finally had a taste of spring today.<br />
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We opened the windows. And with that came every chore we've "put off" until Spring. "Quick! Clean the oven since the windows are open!"<br />
I dried the sheets outside, giving it the crisp, cool outdoors smell that instantly refreshes the soul.<br />
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After months of having the outside world on "mute", birds chirped. Neighborhood kids played basketball. The sound of motorcycles that had been just as cooped up all winter as we had been, hummed in the distance.<br />
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I am SO GLAD to have this tiny taste. I know it will get cold again. But the promise that warmer, brighter days are coming is so reassuring!<br />
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Before we know it, the grass will be turning green, tulips and daffodils will be blooming, the grills will be fired up. <br />
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Just a few more weeks. We can make it!Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-40008650879531439942014-01-26T17:45:00.001-05:002014-01-26T17:45:04.387-05:00I Can't Wait for Spring!This time of year is so long and hard for me! It's dark when I leave for work, dark when I come home. I have no energy on the weekends because it's usually so overcast and depressing. I found myself aching for signs of spring the other day. (Mainly due to a recent unseasonably warm day of 60-ish degrees!)<br />
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So as I was cleaning up my house this morning, I came up with this list of reasons why I cannot wait until Spring!<br />
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1) <strong>Electric and gas bill will practically disappear! </strong>Gotta love when you can turn off the heat <em>and</em> not yet turn <em>on </em>the air conditioning in the same month, and open up the windows!<br />
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2) <strong>I long for tree-frogs and birds chirping.</strong> Seriously, is there a more relaxing sound at dusk?<br />
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3) <strong>I am ready to plant my garden!</strong> I am tired of checking the produce section at the grocery store to see which country my plants are coming from. Tomatoes from Venezuela? Thanks anyway. <br />
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4) <strong>Bright colors of nature</strong> There's the locally grown hydrangeas, the tulip festival, Bradford pear blossoms. What a mood-lifting season!<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Pick-your-own local tulips!</span></div>
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4) <strong>My dogs are going stir-crazy.</strong> Which means I do not sleep well at night:)<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Spring means no more playing indoors!</span></div>
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5) <strong>What color is my car?</strong> I cannot tell due to the build-up of salt, sand and mud.<br />
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(No pic, you're welcome!)<br />
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6) <strong>Social life will resume.</strong> Doesn't it feel like everyone stays inside all winter? The streets are silent, stores are empty. Then suddenly, as spring emerges: farmer's markets, kids playing outside, neighbors bonding through fences. I can't wait!<br />
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Hurry, Spring. You are my favorite season!<br />
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Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-40548188463881861242013-11-13T20:45:00.001-05:002013-11-13T20:54:00.850-05:00A Country Drive<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I have lived in Culpeper for 4 years now. </div>
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Ever since moving here, I have admired the beauty of the Autumn mornings. Misty sunrises are breathtaking! And for 4 years now, I've vowed to get up as early on Saturday as I do the rest of the week to get out and capture the beauty on camera. And this year, I finally did!</div>
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Jim decided to crawl out of bed before sunrise with me. He was my chauffer and did not mind pulling over and helping me trespass wherever I found a bit of beauty. Enjoy!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Jim's favorite</span> </div>
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I have passed this old church to and from work every day since 2009.</div>
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I finally pulled over and took pictures of it. I don't know the story behind it, but I just daydream about what kind of history it has seen! </div>
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Another cute church on the out skirts of town.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My fav pic! We pulled over on a busy section of Rt. 29 for this shot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Across the street from our house.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our first time visiting this lake that is 5 minutes from our house.</span> </div>
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If you have a favorite, I would love your feedback:) Even after 4 years of living in this house, our walls are still pretty empty. I finally have some artwork that I can put up! Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-16407081369059704282013-10-02T13:22:00.000-04:002013-10-02T13:22:44.310-04:00Wednesday Review: Opus 9, Williamsburg, VA<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Opus 9 Steakhouse</span><br />
5143 Main St., Williamsburg, VA 23188<br />
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<b>Menu</b>: <a href="http://www.opus9steakhouse.com/Sunday%20Brunch%20Buffet_Opus9Steakhouse.pdf" target="_blank">Sunday Brunch</a><br />
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Jim and I decided to take a little weekend getaway earlier this summer. We wanted to drive no further than 2 hours, so we settled on Williamsburg. My only request was to go outlet shopping. Jim's only request was to find a Sunday brunch.<br />
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To me, Sunday brunch was the meal {sausage gravy} that took so long for me to make {3+ hours?}, that it was AFTER breakfast but before lunch before it was ready. To Jim, you went to mass on Sundays and then went out to brunch. Once he moved to Virginia, he realized that Sunday brunch isn't really popular. There are not many restaurants in our town or surrounding ones that serve it.<br />
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So I looked to google. I found <a href="http://www.opus9steakhouse.com/" target="_blank">Opus 9</a> through a "Top 10 Williamsburg Restaurants" list.<br />
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We arrived just as the restaurant was opening for the day.<br />
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We were the first ones seated. We were offered mimosas or bloody Marys, which I turned down!!! {ONLY because I had a rough day on Saturday at Busch Gardens.} Suddenly, a man came and sat down at the piano that was sitting right next to our table. A bassist soon joined him. They played the entire time!<br />
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The brunch set up was amazing. There were the typical omelet, waffle and carving stations. But there was so much more. There were crab cakes, grits, jambalaya, etc!!! The dessert spread was the length of the bar. I ate so much!<br />
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It was so good, that we are considering going back one of these Sundays, <b>only </b>to eat brunch and then drive back. (and <b>not</b> outlet-shop! <span style="font-size: xx-small;">yeah right.</span>) <br />
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<b>Price</b>: $24.95/person. Very reasonable for the spread. <br />
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<b>Score</b>: 5 out of 5<br />
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<b>Tips</b>: -Make a reservation! <br />
-Private rooms for parties.<br />
-Do not go to Busch Gardens the day before.<br />
-<a href="http://www.bedeva.org/" target="_blank">St. Bede Catholic Church</a> is about five minutes away. We went to the 9 am mass to be at brunch when they opened. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">And to sneak in a little shopping in between, muah ha ha.</span>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-51935474193373822672013-07-03T21:10:00.001-04:002013-07-04T08:37:48.482-04:00Posting from my iPhone<div><br></div>(Because I have the urge to blog now that my computer is spending a few weeks at geek squad camp!)<br>
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I did something crazy the other day. I joined a gym. </div>
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Not because I wanted to. Not because I was actually going to follow one of the many workout plans I've been adding to Pinterest hourly. Because I won a gift certificate. </div>
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Now I've never been the gym-going type. I've always consistently and proudly run with the "race home and drink as much wine as possible after work" crowd. But I had this certificate that I did not want to waste, so I decided to cash it in. </div>
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And cash it in I did. After signing on the dotted line, I immediately raced to the gym floor as eager as the first day of kindergarten. I felt great! Confident! I'm a gym-goer! </div><div><br></div><div>I stopped dead in my tracks as I reached the gym's perimeter. </div><div><br></div>
<div>This...</div>
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<img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKy_U1C5lImLKJCjYcVQehOlfXyHjj6Eqnpv5qLiMW6R-NSVYn4T-jXGG2BuI6G5N35FSmG9oLf5_2Y5zv6Nid7Cr9ta1a66uimmksO8_WLMIj-PJECx92H8EM_x_1XHJRInjCh66Ru_z/s320/blogger-image--623069676.jpg" width="320"></div>
...stared me straight in the face. </div>
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Instantly, I felt all:</div>
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My feeling was temporary however. For after the first workout, I came back the next day! And the next, and the next. It's been 5 consecutive days so far! And while my esteem is elevated and after each 5lb dumbbell rep I <i>feel</i> like this:...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJ4JcQ5x3pdNGPw4jBZ-fyfvBb8L3c-fbya2EyYcgZlTrEHYx7hvfijqrX8uMV_14xEmO84HAv6SobAuMpA42fz2iZXbAR3Ri2QiqKsWVppANQ-GxRgNsSpHS7SRT2hbD4IsUpbh2F_Vt/s640/blogger-image-2106163569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJ4JcQ5x3pdNGPw4jBZ-fyfvBb8L3c-fbya2EyYcgZlTrEHYx7hvfijqrX8uMV_14xEmO84HAv6SobAuMpA42fz2iZXbAR3Ri2QiqKsWVppANQ-GxRgNsSpHS7SRT2hbD4IsUpbh2F_Vt/s640/blogger-image-2106163569.jpg"></a></div>
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It's more like uh-this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nBj_t3ZC4tZ9s1egZUrYuLX_jN9qPtY4rUW2Eq7FdHOX_M9sYMwQxi6r13BXG3vMRJF7WStPsxaPQ8y6MFv4GA7z0wD8Te3TqUoGla68UUdFgBbBzEyj-II8AEHDwHyEaL38H9QKT0Lp/s640/blogger-image--1837098135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nBj_t3ZC4tZ9s1egZUrYuLX_jN9qPtY4rUW2Eq7FdHOX_M9sYMwQxi6r13BXG3vMRJF7WStPsxaPQ8y6MFv4GA7z0wD8Te3TqUoGla68UUdFgBbBzEyj-II8AEHDwHyEaL38H9QKT0Lp/s640/blogger-image--1837098135.jpg"></a></div>
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And this:</div>
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Which, with my husband's constant encouragement, will soon turn to this:</div>
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Stay tuned!</div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1210640138"></span><span id="goog_1210640139"></span><br></div>
Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-22741412153920110372013-06-12T20:56:00.003-04:002013-06-12T20:56:49.103-04:00Five FavoritesAm I doing this right?<br />
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This is my first Five Favorites. I'm so excited to have something to motivate me to blog more! Here goes:<br />
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1. The flowers that bloom in June:<br />
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And these are just the ones in my front garden!<br />
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2. Strawberry season.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5Cy6xRA-R-ZVO4QxGGMwQF5457D3KrwfPZVhXFEVLTFOcSFm0df2V_QUaH3y1P4TsbdQ1IfwGPOa-ssFhF3tBnZc2H3S91PR6_oUuN1fdS55GOqtx8sGZCzWos7R-q7KHIoSOZatN5oJ/s1600/june12strawberries.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE5Cy6xRA-R-ZVO4QxGGMwQF5457D3KrwfPZVhXFEVLTFOcSFm0df2V_QUaH3y1P4TsbdQ1IfwGPOa-ssFhF3tBnZc2H3S91PR6_oUuN1fdS55GOqtx8sGZCzWos7R-q7KHIoSOZatN5oJ/s400/june12strawberries.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUfNs0Qu5CaeuHEGYO4dHYIiDopXSG684fpZkk4eM1MlWaoVf3V9ByUxOmcDsTMdfV2KIYCyaoItDDTe74AeqjJ-NAo1YSPXMlXg68rFNFtM4KvJXXaPDZW_icu3fb_B96GBeThVSEQkS/s1600/june12rawpie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNUfNs0Qu5CaeuHEGYO4dHYIiDopXSG684fpZkk4eM1MlWaoVf3V9ByUxOmcDsTMdfV2KIYCyaoItDDTe74AeqjJ-NAo1YSPXMlXg68rFNFtM4KvJXXaPDZW_icu3fb_B96GBeThVSEQkS/s400/june12rawpie.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-4GivpAOGhBN54jqR7oBLE_RJkdUOMxf8vyZQtIr2PR9s93mx3i7WEMQPtwbuy_SWfKhrKuGFHrLo2eHVTxpRunLFUYZDi-LrX-eahcEO2emOACHb-4vg-CWpqDxW7DEqXRujXDPmNQL/s1600/june12pie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-4GivpAOGhBN54jqR7oBLE_RJkdUOMxf8vyZQtIr2PR9s93mx3i7WEMQPtwbuy_SWfKhrKuGFHrLo2eHVTxpRunLFUYZDi-LrX-eahcEO2emOACHb-4vg-CWpqDxW7DEqXRujXDPmNQL/s400/june12pie.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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What kind of woman would I have been without Pinterest?<br />
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3. Zen tea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzRgrAPX8pgOzDUDnzn3CfiJo4D9JdUNVHTSReYn-4wfQJ8R8GaJh7t6xAIADwwzS_mR1qeG2l6AVLhNp8tb3i5zUlGDirCHrUmADm4sKUFkMQ5RzyzU6uX3hr5t2V5cWoTbvGqzfVKHL/s1600/zen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzRgrAPX8pgOzDUDnzn3CfiJo4D9JdUNVHTSReYn-4wfQJ8R8GaJh7t6xAIADwwzS_mR1qeG2l6AVLhNp8tb3i5zUlGDirCHrUmADm4sKUFkMQ5RzyzU6uX3hr5t2V5cWoTbvGqzfVKHL/s400/zen.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I don't know what it is about this stuff. It is so delicious and seems to make me so relaxed. It is the perfect at-work tea! I couldn't drink coffee for the past 6 weeks and my husband brought this home instead. It was a delicious alternative! Although I am very glad to have my coffee back!</div>
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4. Masterchef.</div>
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<a data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=OSG1i1lwaHW8rM&tbnid=l9Ec40cbi9ZG_M:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.gazettenet.com%2Fblogs%2Feverythingelse%2F6482623-95%2Fmasterchef-recap-signs-of-things-to-come&ei=oBW5UcHTH43C9gTJl4C4Ag&psig=AFQjCNH1zMKn8q8w4UzpMHiYl0fNV-Uxhg&ust=1371170581041753" id="irc_mil" style="border: 0px currentColor; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img height="480" id="irc_mi" src="http://www.fox.com/masterchef/_ugc/images/extras/wallpapers/judgeswall_1024x768.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div>
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My favorite summer show! Even though Joe is a jerk.<br />
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5. <a href="https://www.jossandmain.com/index.php" target="_blank">Joss and Main</a><br />
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<a data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=DlqeZpJKYZBi5M&tbnid=OoQr2pAxcULxLM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.housetweaking.com%2F2012%2F02%2F15%2Fjoss-main-collection-imperfect-by-nature%2F&ei=Vxe5UeDNEoL28wTItIHIAw&psig=AFQjCNGAInKx_Jqn21KcbQlD7eTOeEBlkw&ust=1371171019587357" id="irc_mil" style="border: 0px currentColor; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img id="irc_mi" src="http://www.housetweaking.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/joshmain.png" style="margin-top: 83px;" /></a></div>
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Home décor, organized by category, on sale. I haven't purchased anything but I find myself browsing the website more often than pinterest (gasp!). <a href="https://www.jossandmain.com/index.php" target="_blank">Everything is so pretty</a>!<br />
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<a href="http://moxiewife.com/2013/06/five-favorites-vol-16/.html" target="_blank">Hallie</a> hosts the Five Favorites every week, thanks for letting me play!Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-88399493802462517302013-06-08T19:38:00.002-04:002013-06-08T19:38:29.815-04:00I'm back?I really really really really want to start blogging again.<br />
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In fact, I've said it a dozen times in the past several weeks: <br />
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"I'm going to blog tonight!"<br />
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I end up sitting down at the computer, opening up blogger, and reading a thousand other blogs that are really pretty, interesting, and not-boring. And then I think: "my life is so boooooring".<br />
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And maybe it is. But I guess that just means I can have a boring blog, right? As long as I'm writing it down, I'm happy.<br />
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Glad I got that off my chest. So, here is what I did today:<br />
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I woke up bright & early and scrubbed the house like a mad woman. My aunt was coming to visit the house for the first time today (along with my cousin and her son- she's been here before but not since it's been moved into). I had surgery a few weeks ago (more about that in a future post?) and they were coming to visit.<br />
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Jim tended to the yard work while Sadie sulked.<br />
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My aunt loves all things lemon so I went to work making <a href="http://www.treats-sf.com/2011/02/meyer-lemon-bars_13.html" target="_blank">these amazing lemon bars</a>.<br />
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The recipe calls for Meyer lemons, and since I've made these two other times VERY successfully with just that, I stopped by the only store I've ever known to sell them yesterday. They were out. I settled for regular lemons and added honey for sweetness per the sales rep. But that did not stop Jim from buying me...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXC3PE0tE6DZ515vgFpbVhbh2EfvExCFXVxdkvmbvQ3hpe6zcpDcxezikQKN6RUJnE-4hAYILWkvynEQhRB_AVhSfP64oMngkqJOXSNSW3sJVs4JW7zZcBX690UO-xwy_H__gtKvU4Yarj/s1600/june8lemontree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXC3PE0tE6DZ515vgFpbVhbh2EfvExCFXVxdkvmbvQ3hpe6zcpDcxezikQKN6RUJnE-4hAYILWkvynEQhRB_AVhSfP64oMngkqJOXSNSW3sJVs4JW7zZcBX690UO-xwy_H__gtKvU4Yarj/s640/june8lemontree.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
a Meyer lemon tree today. For future lemon bars!<br />
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After my aunt and cousin arrived we did a little downtown touristy shopping. Here's one of my favorite little shops:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqq0utz3WuHtQiRL0OKrUqrNaMjshTg4N0O8SNRsboVjTxRt84bUTVKoYzcdC0mGJhYtNG1FhQpt1qu5DOQlQqnQEdibdWGK-GZQaRUzNwvwC_3XhHAfin3YX3ILkoJNy4xKI6qtCud_P/s1600/june8cameleer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqq0utz3WuHtQiRL0OKrUqrNaMjshTg4N0O8SNRsboVjTxRt84bUTVKoYzcdC0mGJhYtNG1FhQpt1qu5DOQlQqnQEdibdWGK-GZQaRUzNwvwC_3XhHAfin3YX3ILkoJNy4xKI6qtCud_P/s640/june8cameleer.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Where I fell for and bought this hat:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2w5uR5a_d-ul1ZhN_WbUfupvrPeBKtZu4MY4y_cXDDFM6sbKkgSwFPxh_AfcTr6IQotE3d54KJ2yhhgZ0KZzRDGOhiTzIJ3FYAanQH9bSUCb4286fHF397e-YVMcH6sOQCc_6Ax6dC5p/s1600/june8hat2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN2w5uR5a_d-ul1ZhN_WbUfupvrPeBKtZu4MY4y_cXDDFM6sbKkgSwFPxh_AfcTr6IQotE3d54KJ2yhhgZ0KZzRDGOhiTzIJ3FYAanQH9bSUCb4286fHF397e-YVMcH6sOQCc_6Ax6dC5p/s320/june8hat2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I bought a few other goodies:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgue3YemkNrru-U4mvLNWg5kNnCsNaQuroO_kmWCISVw2qRKTX0E5RlQYS8KEVPFaIfjh0sYOrxD7NtyUSgyjjO6Xx6tAuGGJM3J4gcZcAsZLAJ87Sq2J755bLp8l_TiwmOgYzr_NNUDDa7/s1600/june8bags.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgue3YemkNrru-U4mvLNWg5kNnCsNaQuroO_kmWCISVw2qRKTX0E5RlQYS8KEVPFaIfjh0sYOrxD7NtyUSgyjjO6Xx6tAuGGJM3J4gcZcAsZLAJ87Sq2J755bLp8l_TiwmOgYzr_NNUDDa7/s320/june8bags.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Which leads me to now. I love beer in the summer & fall. My current fav is a local brewery, endorsed by Dave Matthews himself:<br />
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Although you can usually find me with a Magic Hat in hand, this one gets 8.5 stars. </div>
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Tune-in in 2014 when I write my next blog post! (kidding...hopefully?)Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-50698135426957406982012-11-25T20:16:00.002-05:002012-11-25T20:17:39.483-05:00My NephewLast December, my 6-year old nephew visited us in Virginia for the first time since he was in our wedding (at age 2.5).<br />
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We thought it would be fun to take him to a local Hibachi restaurant. He loved it...until they whipped the fire out.<br />
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As soon as that pile of onion rings was set on a volcano-shaped fire, he screamed, cried, and begged us to leave. He hated it and we felt awful.<br />
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...Until he came back the following April. "Can we puleeeease take Grampa to the fire restaurant? Please?"<br />
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We told him no. That the place scared him. We would go back when he was older.<br />
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"But I love that place!"<br />
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Months went by. 2 weeks shy of his big-boy 7th birthday, he came back to visit us. We asked him if he was ready to return to the 'fire restaurant'. This time, we'd show Gramma how it works.<br />
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"YES!! I LOVE THAT PLACE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!" After several "are you sure?s" and "can you be brave?s" we took our chances.<br />
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The evening started out well. Our chef demonstrated how fried rice was made...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6gr69lxDznwlOiGrhPDE8HZfFHhrSpV82K_XuDMEScwGMtc7RkaJvnWghCpMaBbqfRT4ZZu3GnOCK4XnGQGXul2CQXA8_ZF5bAqlw5um90gL0zXuwoxeqtObbV0sN71gtnlX8JbYGgiI/s1600/bobby2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6gr69lxDznwlOiGrhPDE8HZfFHhrSpV82K_XuDMEScwGMtc7RkaJvnWghCpMaBbqfRT4ZZu3GnOCK4XnGQGXul2CQXA8_ZF5bAqlw5um90gL0zXuwoxeqtObbV0sN71gtnlX8JbYGgiI/s400/bobby2.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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and life was good.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6K4bM-R03mWG4KPkYlY8m9QuWp-lObAwEdMRysitsDvYre_7F96ayJkbs0KuRUSWekA4sKHCDKXdmniWK7obxCvRmnHDAypP4yAnesvoZpmmWZz0twNmwK8yubx2cxOFG00G1lKt9c_EB/s1600/bobby1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6K4bM-R03mWG4KPkYlY8m9QuWp-lObAwEdMRysitsDvYre_7F96ayJkbs0KuRUSWekA4sKHCDKXdmniWK7obxCvRmnHDAypP4yAnesvoZpmmWZz0twNmwK8yubx2cxOFG00G1lKt9c_EB/s400/bobby1.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Our little nephew was in awe. Perhaps a future career was brewing in his little mind?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mQBn_kV2tN3P2gzQNcXyaGh3mMpVvLXR1XEwNeGRW6DEdNA8iFH2ETKlG45eTMM4EcfwuLc2QH0FyGiQEDzFkpKo4zJ_g9rCo8B5q9Vt06gjARjfJwTgA5yCJTA5S7nUDkeJ5CpTmY3V/s1600/bobby3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mQBn_kV2tN3P2gzQNcXyaGh3mMpVvLXR1XEwNeGRW6DEdNA8iFH2ETKlG45eTMM4EcfwuLc2QH0FyGiQEDzFkpKo4zJ_g9rCo8B5q9Vt06gjARjfJwTgA5yCJTA5S7nUDkeJ5CpTmY3V/s400/bobby3.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Complete respect for Chef 人の氏名. </div>
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And then...the onions made an appearance...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWwUU8QDpzZKCerwm9pCxMo0VA-iZvIpl6_cSOXW-EufACMe-CFsaDAfcGEX6ueLv7UXFEUFA7Jinj25m9ED9KdVo9RbJpsVv0GwYKE0vezpWA_q0CWw99eYgV4rgnEwQqkKymfwXb5uVz/s1600/bobby5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWwUU8QDpzZKCerwm9pCxMo0VA-iZvIpl6_cSOXW-EufACMe-CFsaDAfcGEX6ueLv7UXFEUFA7Jinj25m9ED9KdVo9RbJpsVv0GwYKE0vezpWA_q0CWw99eYgV4rgnEwQqkKymfwXb5uVz/s400/bobby5.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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(nervously attempting to brave it out, while having vivid flash backs):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqtSDDnZF7OyPSu92Vd2zHvMJtUdqk64-PIqnu2YD4DDqvZ7sNODNTesbhfDfYi5aPqNgSJIZEVJSNDsmw5kFaEgaJf45wqA9N94eTwKMyEIxGfT2WEneY8h7dMjez12skadAL48jxyUu/s1600/bobby4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqtSDDnZF7OyPSu92Vd2zHvMJtUdqk64-PIqnu2YD4DDqvZ7sNODNTesbhfDfYi5aPqNgSJIZEVJSNDsmw5kFaEgaJf45wqA9N94eTwKMyEIxGfT2WEneY8h7dMjez12skadAL48jxyUu/s400/bobby4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
...flashbacks becoming a reality:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0ZdZGeoDav5kqMHMUMjYOPFGKC8KMi2aJPv6_hnaZkJobQX9Cp6XJKaHbRHgEiX7m_O-SiOdmmhlUYMB-gBX9RfyAc7IpAUrpf4g40EPM32IbVjqFnYnRyXpdvQt_g4ZQpWPjUbBA5fG/s1600/bobby6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0ZdZGeoDav5kqMHMUMjYOPFGKC8KMi2aJPv6_hnaZkJobQX9Cp6XJKaHbRHgEiX7m_O-SiOdmmhlUYMB-gBX9RfyAc7IpAUrpf4g40EPM32IbVjqFnYnRyXpdvQt_g4ZQpWPjUbBA5fG/s400/bobby6.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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...and just could not handle it:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nvLkvgDzwwcQ69g2RuAvHkPlN1j4B_fwywnaiPNmDxVPrboA8LMcCjpj_LpESGe33X1cXckT0NoeEOPpP_0NaAb21Aag7EXof6OqPmA-b7E_NZUV9fev-cntZ9zS_KrsNuZrEnJ0TzGk/s1600/bobby7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nvLkvgDzwwcQ69g2RuAvHkPlN1j4B_fwywnaiPNmDxVPrboA8LMcCjpj_LpESGe33X1cXckT0NoeEOPpP_0NaAb21Aag7EXof6OqPmA-b7E_NZUV9fev-cntZ9zS_KrsNuZrEnJ0TzGk/s640/bobby7.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">His sympathetic aunt's motto: shoot now, console later.</span><br />
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He ran for his life, to the nearest brick pillar for safety:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5OcOZNYQyEFsho3ytMlSKTMVRhblopZpsigxYoDqAtwzMI6bGN0KOsykVLbFN22qvS8a_V5vyRvlnYWCVNtJ51Np9BYOh8MRpU2QBMJMN0SLBCRiJLXGbkQcZQ0C2Ua-BDU207osm3uf/s1600/bobby8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5OcOZNYQyEFsho3ytMlSKTMVRhblopZpsigxYoDqAtwzMI6bGN0KOsykVLbFN22qvS8a_V5vyRvlnYWCVNtJ51Np9BYOh8MRpU2QBMJMN0SLBCRiJLXGbkQcZQ0C2Ua-BDU207osm3uf/s640/bobby8.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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After chef oaiuefdslkf finished cooking and fully cleaned the stove, the nephew eventually made it to safe ground and ate his chicken and rice. Needless to say, we will not be returning to our little hibachi-hole-in-the-wall until the 8th birthday. Of his son.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-20587799143137889302012-09-25T20:20:00.000-04:002012-09-25T20:20:09.726-04:00Blogging...to return or not?Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-37939365009137109742012-06-22T15:27:00.000-04:002012-06-22T15:27:24.997-04:00Why Can’t Infertile Women Just Get Over Themselves?<br />
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By <a href="http://matchingmoonheads.wordpress.com/2011/01/19/why-cant-infertile-women-just-get-over-themselves/" target="_blank">alison</a> January 19, 2011 <br />
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The other night I was watching a movie with my roommates (whom I live with when not living with my husband in Mexico) and we were talking about Jennifer Garner, when my friend commented:<br />
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<em>Oh, I just hated her character in Juno. She was awful. </em><br />
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To which her husband promptly agreed. And it took a minute to register, <em>Oh that’s right</em>, she was the mom in Juno. Well, the infertile*, OCD, anxious woman who eventually became a mom.<br />
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<strong>And that’s when it hit me, most infertile characters portrayed in movies and TV are not characters you sympathize with and are not portrayed in the best light.</strong> And I voiced this. To which they disagreed.<br />
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<em>There’s Charlotte, from Sex and the City.</em><br />
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To which I disagreed. I never liked Charlotte.<br />
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I understand this point is debatable, that Hollywood isn’t the greatest example of exactly what our culture values lie, and that I don’t really watch that much TV so I don’t have a large data set to pull from, but I remember watching a crime scene show years ago with a crazy infertile women who was holding her husband’s mistress hostage after she snapped when she thought he was cheating on her and other shows/movies where the wife who’s bent on trying to conceive “forces” her husband to have sex with her at timed intervals.<br />
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The idea of a crazy, infertile woman who can <em>just never get over herself</em> is a common theme that enough people recognize, otherwise she wouldn’t exist. She makes you cringe, she makes you want to look away and she definitely does <strong>not</strong> make you sympathize with her.<br />
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Of course I’d love to plead <em>No, she’s not crazy! Just misunderstood!</em> but even I doubt myself. <strong>Why can’t infertile women just get over themselves?</strong> It’s worth asking. There is something all consuming about infertility that just makes your better judgment fly out the window. Your thoughts turn inward and your future seems bleak, in spite of everything else going on in your life. And you’d suddenly trade it all if you could <em>just have a baby</em>. At least, that’s what you say.<br />
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<a href="http://timegivemetime.blogspot.com/2011/01/is-cross-of-infertility-different-from.html" target="_blank">Sunshine wrote</a> last week, asking the question, <strong>is the cross of infertility really harder than other crosses? </strong>One of the points on her list jumped out to me the most:<br />
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<strong>~It is a cross that takes one to the depths of what it means to be a CREATURE and not the CREATOR.</strong><br />
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This is profound. There’s an obvious link between <a href="http://matchingmoonheads.wordpress.com/2010/10/28/controlling-your-happiness/" target="_blank">control and happiness</a>, so it should come as no surprise when once one realizes they aren’t the ones creating, or in control, sadness follows. <strong>But what other crosses take us to the depths of understanding what it means to be a creature rather than a creator?</strong> <br />
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<strong>Sickness, disease, and untimely – or even anticipated – death.</strong> When all of these things happen, there is absolutely nothing you can do but accept what happens. <strong>Infertility falls right in line with all of those. </strong><br />
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Have you seen <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Sister%27s_Keeper_%28film%29" target="_blank">My Sister’s Keeper</a>? There’s a scene at the end where you all but realize she’s going to die. She’s been struggling with cancer for so long and there’s no way she can survive the surgery necessary to save her, yet when all her extended family come in the room to visit one last time they just keep talking about how not to worry, if she can just hold on, just have more faith, just pray a little harder, that miracles do happen and that she’ll be cured. The immediate family shares a knowing look because <em>they know</em>, they know that this is the end and they are finally at peace, although that didn’t come easy even for them. Those other people just can’t accept not being in control. They can’t imagine there not being <em>something else</em> you can do.<br />
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<strong>There are few crosses that can really reach us and teach us that at the deepest level, we are merely creatures. Infertility is one.</strong><br />
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It literally takes that family up until the moment they realize she’s going to die to have peace. If it takes that long with death, which is so final, to accept, how can it possibly work any sooner with infertility?<br />
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<strong>Infertility is a disease that takes away your ability to conceive and bear children.</strong> But it rarely takes it away all at once (although it can). It usually acts more stealthily, taking it away slowly, month after month. As a result, its a continual mourning process of children that never were. Children that no one will ever see or would ever even be expected to know about.<br />
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A mother whose child dies usually has a funeral, an expected time to mourn and even a lifetime acknowledgment that that child existed and was worth mourning. All children are. The infertile has <strong>less than two weeks</strong> to get over the fact that there is no child before moving on to having hope for the next child, who may never come. All with zero outside acknowledgment. This is not to solicit pity, but to state facts.<strong> I seriously believe that this lack of proper time to grieve is what drives infertile women crazy. </strong>It is a death that is never recognized and never dealt with like what it is. The death of children that never existed with a mix of your husband’s and your genes. And how can you accept that death? After all, this just might be the month! It is just a continual process that has. no. end. until time X has been reached. Time X being dependent upon a couple’s emotional, mental, and financial reserves to take the waiting/treatment roller coaster. [And honestly, I have doubts it ever ends. I bet somewhere in the mind back there an sub-fertile always wonders if she's pregnant, and every story I've ever heard that ends with a sub-fertile adopting and then getting pregnant, she always says "<em>Well, I was a day late and I should have gotten my period by then...so I took a pregnancy test."</em> Right. A pregnancy test because you're a day late?]<br />
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<strong>Everything I read about adoption confirms that infertility is a grieving process.</strong> Agencies are weary of accepting couples who are pursuing fertility treatments and many don’t allow it at all. Adoption is never to replace your biological children. This wouldn’t be fair to the adopted child to have to live in the shadow of another child. Friends who have started or have gone through the adoption process have <a href="http://amarthatryingtobemary.blogspot.com/2010/12/baby-keys-husbands-and-grief.html" target="_blank">literally first had to mourn</a> the biological children that never were.<br />
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We’re not crazy infertile women like you see in the movies. <strong>I wish it was more apparent to people that its not that we’re not thankful, its not that we’re not appreciative of what we do have, its just that our dreams, our husband’s and our children, are dying.</strong> On a repeating loop. Right in front of us. <u>We are mothers to invisible, never-living children, and we are mourning.</u> Death cannot be moved past until it is properly grieved.<br />
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I just wish it wasn’t so hard to face that fact ourselves.<br />
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Thanks for reading. Thanks for your understanding.<br />
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<br />Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-55570931000145119022012-05-10T20:55:00.002-04:002012-05-10T20:55:53.945-04:00Sadie's Happy Place...is her backyard with her tennis ball.<br />
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Proof:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDgrZIaS14jSwmMLJX6IAVvna2foq8jOSlP7GO3FS-UYBcaPH3vyMvYc8gyNdGrt4yTAmD1paLvSTAmnz1VOlEwW0WMjsbkwvgegRPINFDldF9DmDQhiLKAMw_WqfDZzanilixF031bP3/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDgrZIaS14jSwmMLJX6IAVvna2foq8jOSlP7GO3FS-UYBcaPH3vyMvYc8gyNdGrt4yTAmD1paLvSTAmnz1VOlEwW0WMjsbkwvgegRPINFDldF9DmDQhiLKAMw_WqfDZzanilixF031bP3/s400/IMG_0088.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sRddEh-M79Nr7lmRN3OUiU6SxJE-46Ke1mO3N2cWKvg4PivP_ql6JyfC-6uByS2MpxpAmqy-BuKRAlTf4RsrHj5Hir0XnYZcZECWO0m5HiAeYwiihmlqGd2pl2beJ3oCIvL0vUy4euQy/s1600/IMG_0097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sRddEh-M79Nr7lmRN3OUiU6SxJE-46Ke1mO3N2cWKvg4PivP_ql6JyfC-6uByS2MpxpAmqy-BuKRAlTf4RsrHj5Hir0XnYZcZECWO0m5HiAeYwiihmlqGd2pl2beJ3oCIvL0vUy4euQy/s400/IMG_0097.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This photo sums up Sadie's personality perfectly.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWio-9f_pNjquPUuV-oblt4yg6HCLYs8ohp8CPA3lfKB9pbsqQT1XjUTSzwl-RdwDhWVEkpIs8whMOm8Zb4ka1SWGl8eBdT-OLf-NBu27SW9hlK1mia488mSjaCy0xAbux3Ek9CgEoAe-/s1600/IMG_0113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZWio-9f_pNjquPUuV-oblt4yg6HCLYs8ohp8CPA3lfKB9pbsqQT1XjUTSzwl-RdwDhWVEkpIs8whMOm8Zb4ka1SWGl8eBdT-OLf-NBu27SW9hlK1mia488mSjaCy0xAbux3Ek9CgEoAe-/s400/IMG_0113.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Waiting for the ball to be thrown.</div>
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Watching where it will land...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh486vViUep4knZxoc02i0RrH91n1pTNOtwL9D2i_zf-OU63OvUaZ8q6rK9ChwrhHan32-mFBSt58ejPZKjP2HpD8kpAUXu8OAx1qZfQAgx3y8vuu15HnVcYv5ZcXHQ3xPShAcHAtknuTSe/s1600/IMG_0142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh486vViUep4knZxoc02i0RrH91n1pTNOtwL9D2i_zf-OU63OvUaZ8q6rK9ChwrhHan32-mFBSt58ejPZKjP2HpD8kpAUXu8OAx1qZfQAgx3y8vuu15HnVcYv5ZcXHQ3xPShAcHAtknuTSe/s400/IMG_0142.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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Will do just about anything for a taste of that ball.</div>
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Happily retrieved.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_9r_6RYdOFhcvtDj4CpvzT1f7SVzYzA2e7EcisFVZBcdm3xafkDcWtba3JdmgmXbDFhrQ2-8Je5HDWhFY_8XGYNGjVWZCCrYP7JFmwzCgPY-bwdU2Ua3AOo98395Q_L0dHbGPO4rhwnh/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_9r_6RYdOFhcvtDj4CpvzT1f7SVzYzA2e7EcisFVZBcdm3xafkDcWtba3JdmgmXbDFhrQ2-8Je5HDWhFY_8XGYNGjVWZCCrYP7JFmwzCgPY-bwdU2Ua3AOo98395Q_L0dHbGPO4rhwnh/s400/IMG_0010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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PS. A picture of the garden (kale and lettuces) that she has yet to </div>
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break into this season...</div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-19562418519347336802012-05-08T13:08:00.002-04:002012-05-08T14:09:13.616-04:00"Commuter Idle"I drive very, very, very far to and from work.<br />
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I start bright and early from my small town, drive through 4 counties, 15 towns/cities, several police jurisdictions. 64.7 miles later, I arrive at destination: cubicle.<br />
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The first half of my trip into work, I weave in and out of farm vehicle traffic. The second half is trying my hardest to avoid crazy drivers doing things like <a href="http://wtop.com/164/2856288/Driver-who-jumped-on-I-66-cars-faces-multiple-charges" target="_blank">jumping on cars</a>. <br />
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Grand total Monday-Friday, I drive 647 miles. Weekly.<br />
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Oh, but that is only my full time job! Add my <a href="http://nobetterplacetobe.blogspot.com/2011/05/on-markets-and-celebrations.html" target="_blank">part-time job</a>, 792.8 miles weekly. 13 hours of commute time.<br />
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So boy did I get excited when I heard of a <a href="http://nobetterplacetobe.blogspot.com/2010/06/fantastic-addiction.html" target="_blank">new radio contest</a>! "Commuter Idle", also known as "who has the worst commute in the washington dc area", sponsored by the all-news DC station. Winner receives $1,000 towards gas money, as well as a limo ride to/from work!!!!! Didn't have to tell me twice!<br />
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I entered immediately. This was yesterday, so the results aren't back for a few weeks. However, I did receive a call from the radio station today, it went a little something like this:<br />
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"Dayum gurl!!!! You sure do have a crazy commute! If you are a finalist, would you mind being interviewed about your commute?"<br />
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(me): <span style="font-size: xx-small;">"......uh...um...what kind of interview?" </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Please don't be on Fox 5 News at 11)</span><br />
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"Ya know, about your commute! I'm reading that you commute nearly 800 miles weekly! Can we interview you if you're a finalist?"<br />
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(me again, picturing the horrors that could come by having to break out of my shell for a measely grand. and limo ride.): "Absolutely!"<br />
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So there you have it. Stay tuned....if I win, maybe they'll send a limo from a certain state west of virginia!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHw-Nc0wTbjg_AdRhIwiHxJE8DcWCFxCq9jnu64yBnXOibZAuvWFTDoedvMu31JyHszuoqbmi_LkSL0h1AgDItn2Cq7ISQ2_ojAehyMfXa1C1qOOgIoCUKsp9OMSEdkyxdn64Ql4i4E-5/s1600/limo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHw-Nc0wTbjg_AdRhIwiHxJE8DcWCFxCq9jnu64yBnXOibZAuvWFTDoedvMu31JyHszuoqbmi_LkSL0h1AgDItn2Cq7ISQ2_ojAehyMfXa1C1qOOgIoCUKsp9OMSEdkyxdn64Ql4i4E-5/s400/limo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-2943475789807072252012-05-08T11:53:00.000-04:002012-05-08T11:53:45.003-04:00Here I amI have a lot to say about April, the busiest month of my life thus far, but until that blog is written, here are a few recent Jim-quotes:<br />
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(regarding the busy month): "Elizabeth's <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(friend from college)</span> wedding <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(cinco de mayo)</span> is my reward for April."<br />
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Jim graciously offered to do a load of laundry and as I removed the never-ending-pile of cleanliness from the dryer at the end of the day, I asked: <br />
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"How on earth did you fit all of these clothes into the washing machine?"<br />
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"I do not divulge my secrets." -J <br />
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As we drove by the town's "lingerie" "store" last night (conveniently next door to a tattoo parlor, both located in warehouse-style storage units (shudder) <em>BEHIND the supermarket</em>, Jim asked:<br />
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"Do you want me to drop you off at <em>'Unmentionables'</em>?"<br />
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(Recalling my tetonis shot is not quite up to date) "Um, no. I don't want to be seen walking in there."<br />
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"I don't think anyone is going to see you back there." (Cue disease-ridden tumble weed blowing by.) Funnier with a picture, will try to snap a G-rated one shortly. But for now, don't stretch your imagination much farther than this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWENanYEUmdBxTl1JgUkT86uv-2hlNhpxQqebHWkIKG-fxup6wWIat8jfOZ_cQf4ba5WKBR53_4Nmlgtw6D7wsT-z4LYpuJXGTVkz5DQs_xz0_MZ5K7emzyfQNQhcQ9tIoa4hIA4bO4fW5/s1600/storage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWENanYEUmdBxTl1JgUkT86uv-2hlNhpxQqebHWkIKG-fxup6wWIat8jfOZ_cQf4ba5WKBR53_4Nmlgtw6D7wsT-z4LYpuJXGTVkz5DQs_xz0_MZ5K7emzyfQNQhcQ9tIoa4hIA4bO4fW5/s400/storage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-15127342271574124962012-03-10T20:26:00.000-05:002012-03-10T20:43:56.283-05:00Work Words"This is like putting tacks into my fingernail!" - mr. x after an especially difficult day<br />
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"Tell him to go open a window, I hope it's on the 12th floor, and take a flying jump!!!" - mr x. on another difficult day<br />
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"We need to massively put the expectations below (violently bends down to floor and starts rubbing it) SEA LEVEL!!" - mr x.<br />
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"I dont want to see another award from you guys. If I get another one of those 'oh thanks for the business' awards, I'm going to send it back!!" - mr x., arguing with someone else very important over the phoneEmilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-61895069300134017192012-03-06T20:53:00.002-05:002012-03-07T10:42:25.430-05:00My Very First Pinterest Projects, aka Sadie Strikes AgainI knew almost immediately as I set my eyes on my first ever "pin" last September that I'd be an addict. Especially after the high success of my first project.<br />
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The pin displayed the following:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.craftstylish.com/item/40916/how-to-make-sweater-dog-toys" target="_blank">via</a></span></div>
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Make your own dog toys. Out of old sweaters.</div>
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All you had to do was print out a picture of a bone, trace it on to two pieces of fabric, and sew the two together with stuffing in the middle. </div>
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It was almost too easy! As a (very) beginner and self-taught sewer, I felt over-confident after I finished these bad boys out of some spare fabric:</div>
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<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">ignore the drool marks, admire the clean floor</span></em></div>
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<em>Also known as:</em></div>
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<em>...but that's another story...</em></div>
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Sadie was very, very impressed with my skills, however she didn't quite grasp the whole "this is a toy" concept.</div>
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She carried them around so extremely delicately, as if they were a fine piece of china.</div>
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With elevated esteem, I quickly decided on my next sewing-for-the-dogs project, shown on pinterest as so:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7QaCAzEsCuz4yeolYVxx9I9M-H3tMJgazYGScQ4FAOG-eLE6JmyhegsKDNoH4NfeJV7pHPEHEB_H-UBiZaJRlT0bOff_zVE04UROTAY9ErC2rbzyHtEp-3jaI1eO0HttIJJ6ZZhrtPoQ/s1600/bed" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7QaCAzEsCuz4yeolYVxx9I9M-H3tMJgazYGScQ4FAOG-eLE6JmyhegsKDNoH4NfeJV7pHPEHEB_H-UBiZaJRlT0bOff_zVE04UROTAY9ErC2rbzyHtEp-3jaI1eO0HttIJJ6ZZhrtPoQ/s400/bed" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://inspirationrealisation.blogspot.com/2011/05/cheap-pet-bed.html" target="_blank">via</a></span></div>
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Mine actually came out somewhat recognizable:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzo_cIJhS5VDz8-KcafbGnc7fVCdWzDJckpDEaHzzdkJwcSlyxgbnygaZTbasl94ph0-x9h33GkT-dpLKiwUnHDMzY8AlKIA-n-sg3R15-YuEGH4ftEhJa7Goc_wkee8ZaWA5sh8igRh7x/s1600/IMG_8380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzo_cIJhS5VDz8-KcafbGnc7fVCdWzDJckpDEaHzzdkJwcSlyxgbnygaZTbasl94ph0-x9h33GkT-dpLKiwUnHDMzY8AlKIA-n-sg3R15-YuEGH4ftEhJa7Goc_wkee8ZaWA5sh8igRh7x/s400/IMG_8380.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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!!!!!!!</div>
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Sadie took to it almost immediately:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweRv5E-XdN6p6lD2lxGHFtpeEbZAz1iucn9RNmlfBe3Vg8iK27U4M8X1MDOOxtmWNS1tLlDMgZCtVtMUMPul0AXQNUmHem1Jz6eOKi_VNc3st6lbDFoZ9UUjS7Xh7NvahIGdKSAjgS4UJ/s1600/IMG_8385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiweRv5E-XdN6p6lD2lxGHFtpeEbZAz1iucn9RNmlfBe3Vg8iK27U4M8X1MDOOxtmWNS1tLlDMgZCtVtMUMPul0AXQNUmHem1Jz6eOKi_VNc3st6lbDFoZ9UUjS7Xh7NvahIGdKSAjgS4UJ/s400/IMG_8385.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It was love at first sight for Sadie. Infact, I should have known that something was off the way that she was handling the toy bones, months and months on end without even trying to gnaw through it. She carried those toy bones with her <em>everywhere.</em> She couldn't sleep without them, eat without them, or even go to the bathroom outside without them by her side.</div>
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The bed, however... well, destiny had written a different story for the bed.</div>
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I came home to this today:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUlekyaHSt_Ojs-TZqF8A2z8O02A40Eo4sngs3dkZWZx03wKbEAQHag1SWL78sQoIBDGjMOT83TWkmtdXBlgqpWbnIwGcCmxCIUtepb0O8BiSY3wXDr0xY9_-hsbgzHQyckAH_s26HPcS/s1600/IMG_9408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUlekyaHSt_Ojs-TZqF8A2z8O02A40Eo4sngs3dkZWZx03wKbEAQHag1SWL78sQoIBDGjMOT83TWkmtdXBlgqpWbnIwGcCmxCIUtepb0O8BiSY3wXDr0xY9_-hsbgzHQyckAH_s26HPcS/s640/IMG_9408.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigtObraVMrF9vOZ-x81Qq84Jm3KE4bwE_7K7blfS76dqNgJnxcz3NU4VIqPuialFoCtnBXi_eTWzo0wF02TzIAr1qsB6dbPbWR8hPy9BTfyFhvAe3rM4lPLA6J0zB9EkLcMkYrcRz5Fq7/s1600/IMG_9411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigtObraVMrF9vOZ-x81Qq84Jm3KE4bwE_7K7blfS76dqNgJnxcz3NU4VIqPuialFoCtnBXi_eTWzo0wF02TzIAr1qsB6dbPbWR8hPy9BTfyFhvAe3rM4lPLA6J0zB9EkLcMkYrcRz5Fq7/s640/IMG_9411.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I made her pose next to the remnants of the bed, even though she was mortified, heart broken, and missing her bones.</div>
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Those darn bones are still in mint condition, for anyone interested.</div>
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</div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1855832520502653235.post-75424359444619803052012-01-31T12:46:00.000-05:002012-01-31T12:46:32.347-05:00More of Jim's Gems<div align="center">
Since I introduced a new feature in my last entry that highlights my husband's funny quotes was such a big hit, (seriously, I'm up followers by 40% and up daily hits by a lot of %), I thought I'd document a few more:</div>
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After explaining a juicy story in great detail about what I thought that someone had said at work, I warned:</div>
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"...but don't quote me."</div>
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"I try not to." - Jim</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzINKMn3gqVPwKuPrqLj1Dql-SK8zA0Veeu-EGhW-u8AQ392msD206GI8rwfu-EiQVWPC94Y8P9F4drLQdi9AjoiSaLvBVGVpiIcavBwxjvJUkuAOZDHOqY7nzWMNl29KQITeu5kHXuPbp/s1600/talk-o-meter-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzINKMn3gqVPwKuPrqLj1Dql-SK8zA0Veeu-EGhW-u8AQ392msD206GI8rwfu-EiQVWPC94Y8P9F4drLQdi9AjoiSaLvBVGVpiIcavBwxjvJUkuAOZDHOqY7nzWMNl29KQITeu5kHXuPbp/s320/talk-o-meter-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(me, every afternoon after picking Jim up at work)</span></em></div>
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After George had stolen half of a tray of chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake (it's a real thing) </div>
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earlier that morning, Jim got home from work, swung open the front door, and upon seeing George prancing around declared:</div>
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"You're alive!!!!!!" - Jim</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd49RLd07gYkZMHkr4drpZXvvZvH9cW7Vo0y0-Kd77_MfXgbU3MlpO9wYI9yjVuTMVl4DmlPenA6vt43-pjBPxVifUI9OoOAQpS0oJGlDfLiprMkJaGavzAJLDWFVb2KbzCQ-BoppumMha/s1600/chocolate-chip-cookie-dough-cheesecake-bars1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd49RLd07gYkZMHkr4drpZXvvZvH9cW7Vo0y0-Kd77_MfXgbU3MlpO9wYI9yjVuTMVl4DmlPenA6vt43-pjBPxVifUI9OoOAQpS0oJGlDfLiprMkJaGavzAJLDWFVb2KbzCQ-BoppumMha/s200/chocolate-chip-cookie-dough-cheesecake-bars1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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I had spent some time one afternoon finishing laundry <em>completely</em>. This included the rarity of putting the folded laundry away in it's proper places, as well as the clothes on hangers into the closet.<br />
Normally, Jim would travel from laundry room to dresser to closet and back to each again at the start of each day to track down that day's attire.<br />The day after my domesticness:<br />
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"Wow, it sure feels great to do some one-stop shopping." - Jim<br />
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After day number 8759843 of carpooling together, between my gossipy work stories (see first photo above), Jim was trying to listen to the faint background static that consisted of espn radio.<br />
When the DJ's guest was explaining that the guys on such-and-such basketball team were slacking because they were playing in games for <em>38 minutes</em>,<br />
I tried to sound interested:<br />
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"So basically they are slacking because they are in the game for so long, and <br />
therefore think they are hot stuff?" - me<br />
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"No." -Jim<br />
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(looooong pause)<br />
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"Shall we just leave it at that?" - me<br />
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"Yes. But thanks for playing." - Jim<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnACa66metNt1iThubTFS1Y4ZZujaqzRZTm5iW4tI8ORecHYX5DLFyiTKIYVL2gTBk0L8LzsXcidCa3VzihL2fgojNngAaOScbmE2zxDukwLxeOvM4Wa_r8CJVc2JPtvSEu-wxsNlQbWZL/s1600/no-girls-allowed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnACa66metNt1iThubTFS1Y4ZZujaqzRZTm5iW4tI8ORecHYX5DLFyiTKIYVL2gTBk0L8LzsXcidCa3VzihL2fgojNngAaOScbmE2zxDukwLxeOvM4Wa_r8CJVc2JPtvSEu-wxsNlQbWZL/s320/no-girls-allowed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<em>I feel your pain, Sister.</em></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01124753621699374234noreply@blogger.com0