tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54005911787049436872024-02-06T22:58:49.961-05:00a piece of piemy stories, my laughs, my heart. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.comBlogger204125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-71622784608246912412017-01-25T19:19:00.001-05:002017-01-25T19:19:24.382-05:00The Hunt for a HobbyI recently started having anxiety attacks, seemingly out of the blue. I went to a counselor to see what I could do to stop having these awful panicking feelings. She taught me some awesome breathing techniques and mindfulness exercises, and she also asked what I do to take care of myself.<br />
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I didn't really have an answer. I said, "Well, sometimes I exercise and I try to eat healthy...?"<br />
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She said, "But what do you do for fun?"<br />
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I said, "Well when I clean the house and organize things, it makes me feel good."<br />
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She said, "Well what's the thing that you can do and you don't realize it, but two hours have passed because you were so enjoying what you were doing?"<br />
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I thought about that and "cleaning and organizing" was definitely not the answer to that question. I couldn't really think of anything, besides hanging out with friends and family, but that didn't really count for this.<br />
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She explained that we are to "Love one another as we love ourselves," and many times we miss the point about loving ourselves. There are three parts to love and nurture in ourselves: body (exercise, eating, etc.), spirit (relationship with God), and soul (something you enjoy, a creative outlet, etc.).<br />
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So my homework was to breathe deeply and slowly, notice things in the present, and to find some things that I enjoy doing and do them, even if the kitchen sink is filled with dishes or I should be sweeping the floors, catching up on laundry, getting the mail, walking Addie, or returning the "guaranteed not to fall" shower caddy that scared me half to death in my sleep last night when it fell off the wall.<br />
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I got home last night and asked Geoffrey what my hobby or activity should be. He had actually told me last week that I should find a hobby. Geoffrey is The King of Hobbies. He golfs, plays guitar, paints pictures, backpacks in the woods, home-brews beer, smokes meat, plays video games and Fantasy Football, makes jerky and dried herbs, drinks fancy tea -- you name it, he probably does it! And even he couldn't really help me with hobby ideas.<br />
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So I Googled, "What should my hobby be?" I found a little quiz (love quizzes) and I answered all the questions. It came back saying I should be a Tea Connoisseur (hence why I included "drinks fancy tea" in Geoffrey's hobbies) -- didn't know that was a hobby, but good to know. As much as I like quizzes, I'm not sure if I am buying the Tea Connoisseur hobby - still thinking on that one.<br />
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I decided to Google, "List of Hobbies." This came back with a long list of some pretty interesting hobbies and was very helpful. I wrote down the items that I am going to consider for my hobbies - tea connoisseur, reading for leisure, writing, crocheting, journaling, quilting, gardening, drawing, running (maybe walking!), thrift shopping, meditation or yoga. It's a pretty nice list with some things I might feel comfortable doing and some things I definitely won't feel comfortable doing, but I could end up liking these things!<br />
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When I was telling my mom and Mary about my hobby dilemma today, they said, "Your Blog!!!"<br />
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I had completely forgotten that I used to enjoy blogging. Life got busy and the blog went on the back burner after college. But here I am -- trying out this old hobby that I forgot I ever had, and I think I like it!<br />
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P.S. I am also going to try yoga and then gardening in the Spring.<br />
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Some other soul-nurturing things to think about doing:<br />
Take a walk in nature and notice everything.<br />
Create a scrapbook with your favorite photos.<br />
Sing in the car (of course with the volume loud enough:).<br />
Listen to soothing music (shout out to the New Age Relaxation Station on Amazon Music).<br />
Savor every single bite of your meal or dessert.<br />
Bake a cake.<br />
Watch a comedy and laugh.<br />
Do a random act of kindness.<br />
Journal about your day.<br />
Have tea with a friend or your spouse.<br />
Play with your kids or your dog.<br />
Read a good book.<br />
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<br />
I hope you will purposefully do something today that nurtures your soul, and don't feel guilty about taking a little time for yourself! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-21739008958812329242015-05-26T17:30:00.000-04:002015-05-26T17:30:00.992-04:00Trying To Catch Up ... Our Wedding a Year and One Month Late<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A whole lot has happened in the few years (!!!!!) that I have not blogged. I was torn between creating a new blog for the post-college life, or continuing with this one. After trying to think of a new blog name for about 5 minutes, I decided to stick with this one for simplicity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would say that my biggest life event since last blogging has been my name change, and my marriage that went along with it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A little over a year ago, on April 26, 2014 Geoffrey and I got married at the Little Brown Church on Signal Mountain. I would say it was one of the prettiest days that I can remember in all my life. Maybe I'm biased. But, the weather was very important, because we got married in a church that only fit about 120 people inside, and the remaining 100 people had to sit outside. And our reception was under a white tent in my parents front yard, so rain would have been a bummer. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4_0GJZiNM6dO_7m8YqMg-Mc93zOD6WZtnAE6xyd8-iZ5DZXqDpzChbrO2IC8PrCEg2L1WUC_1bMtLaDWiBFa_ckB3T4VIAb8m34Y00jNQBwf4M-usK8MJ3VYa7Ca3jXL25-xVfvpP_AO/s1600/MPS153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4_0GJZiNM6dO_7m8YqMg-Mc93zOD6WZtnAE6xyd8-iZ5DZXqDpzChbrO2IC8PrCEg2L1WUC_1bMtLaDWiBFa_ckB3T4VIAb8m34Y00jNQBwf4M-usK8MJ3VYa7Ca3jXL25-xVfvpP_AO/s1600/MPS153.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is a picture of us sitting in the church after seeing each other. <br />Photos by Greg and Jeannie Forehand</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a side note, I really enjoyed the first look before the ceremony and I would recommend it to anyone on the fence about this. We both felt a lot calmer after that, and we both enjoyed talking for a few quiet minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were married by Geoffrey's youth pastor and the same guy that he worked under for a couple of years when he interned as summer youth intern at his church. He did a wonderful job, and that reminds me that I want to watch the video that we have of the service. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our reception was in my parents' front yard under a white tent. My parents had the yard looking incredible, and the weather was perfect for it. Thinking back to it, I really was never nervous that the weather wouldn't be perfect. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here are a few pictures from the day... </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sisters and maids-of-honor</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wore my grandmother's and my mother's wedding dress. <br />
It was all the same as when they wore it, <br />
except that we took off the lace sleeves because they were damaged.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We wouldn't have had the wedding without my mom's help!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Granddaddy has Alzheimer's, but he was so happy and good that day - such a blessing. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sweet flower girls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right after we were married, and we were so happy!!! </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If we had actually tried to do a serious face, it would have never turned out like this. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Next, I want to give an update on our house! Hopefully it won't be another four years before I post again!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-35652908941838528752012-01-09T14:00:00.000-05:002012-01-09T00:09:31.397-05:00Celebrations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Much has gone on since I last blogged. Here's the DL.</div>
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We celebrated Thanksgiving. </div>
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In December, I passed my tests so that I can become a stock broker.</div>
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I became licensed just last week! (Yay)</div>
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We celebrated Geoffrey's birthday the weekend before Christmas.</div>
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I got him a camping stove. </div>
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Then we celebrated Christmas.</div>
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I got some wonderful things.<br />
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We made some great memories.<br />
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The day after Christmas, we made the trek to Florida.<br />
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We enjoyed paddling around in our canal. </div>
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By "enjoyed," I mean that I was making those deep breath noises where you suck air in really fast when you think you're about to die... the whole time. I'd say that I get a little panicking in wobbly boats in shallow, alligator-filled canals. I'd also say that I am dramatic about it. </div>
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While in Florida, Geo and I drove to Disney World one day.<br />
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I loved it! I hadn't been since middle school. Lots had changed! </div>
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After Florida, we went to Auburn to visit my sweet Grandmother, Diddie and her husband Andy. </div>
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Geoffrey and Adam got in the boat in her pond. </div>
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Geo and Adam had the bright idea to walk around the pond to explore. Geo led, then I followed, with Mary and Adam behind me. Then I stepped in this. </div>
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It was completely covered and camouflaged with leaves until I stepped in it (so it wasn't me being clumsy).</div>
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Suddenly I dropped down into this hole. And by dropped down, I mean my entire left leg was down there, up to my hip!! My other leg was out of the hole so I was kind of doing the splits. </div>
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Not sure if this would be a normal first reaction, but not knowing why in the world there would be a hole that deep in the middle of the woods in Alabama, I thought it was a mine that was going to blow my leg off. You would not believe how fast I pulled my leg up out of there! It hurt my wrists because I pushed up so hard on them trying to get out of the hole.</div>
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Mary and Adam couldn't stop laughing since they saw it happen, I was completely shocked, and Geoffrey was in front so he didn't have any idea what happened. </div>
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I am thankful that it wasn't a mine, and I now know that sometimes stumps rot out and leave deep holes in the ground. If that ever happens to you- you'll know it's not a mine!</div>
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We came home from Auburn and celebrated the New Year. </div>
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I met reality and went back to work. </div>
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Work has been really fun since I've gotten my license and started to do more exciting things. I can now have my own clients! </div>
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I just got home from visiting Geoffrey in Nashville. </div>
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We celebrated my birthday with a nice dinner at the Opryland hotel one night </div>
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and with his parents one night at Bucca. Both nights were great! </div>
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I'm not ready to be 23 yet- 2 more days of being 22 left! I'm going to live it up! </div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-1946128574567442082011-11-23T16:11:00.001-05:002011-11-23T16:48:58.838-05:00Working WorldIt's been a while! I haven't really known what to blog about lately. <div>
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The working world puts a damper on my blogging because I pretty much go to work and come home every day, and I don't have so much time to procrastinate and blog like I used to. </div>
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I went to Florida for fall break a couple of weeks ago. My cousin Emily and her two friends, Sarah and Kelly went, and my mom and me. We watched the entire season one of Friday Night Lights in three days, and I loved every minute of it. </div>
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We took some fun/funny pictures one day when a storm was blowing in and the winds were crazy. </div>
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I got back to work and hit the ground running so I could get caught up to stay on track for studying for my Series 7 licensing exam... And that has defined my life since then. I am taking a cram course next week and will then be ready to take the exam the following Monday. (Yay!) I'm ready to have this over! </div>
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I am moving out of my parents house to a house next door with my cousin Crosby. I'm excited about that because it will be fun living with her but I can still be close to my parents, and I'll probably still be at home a lot. I'll have the best of both worlds! </div>
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I wish I had a cool/fun/exciting/funny story to tell you, but I can't think of one, so I'll keep this one short. </div>
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I'll be thinking for next time! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-26948451877547122562011-10-12T12:36:00.002-04:002011-10-12T12:36:58.186-04:00Going to the OfficeI am a part of the real working world now. So far, so good! <br />
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I'm working for my uncle as his assistant stock broker, learning everything I can from him and from my two huge books for the General Securities Representative Exam (Series 7) and for the Uniform Combined State Law Exam (Series 66). So pretty much, I'll be going to work for the first couple of months to study for these exams so that I can get licensed and can then do my job and eventually do what he does! <br />
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Anyways, it's been an adjustment to go from a college student to unemployed/make-my-own-schedule to a 40 hour work week, but it hasn't been too bad as long as I get in bed a little earlier than I used to.<br />
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I get my own office, which has probably been the most exciting part, besides of course, learning about municipal debt characteristics. <br />
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The decorating is coming slowly but surely. I still have a little ways to go. I also love having an office instead of the way college was, having to bring your stuff with you everywhere you do. It's nice to go to the office and already have everything you need! <br />
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My lunch/study break is up, so I'll blog later.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-49148864268347096552011-09-14T22:54:00.005-04:002011-09-14T22:54:51.771-04:00My Life in Pictures (And Captions)<div style="text-align: center;">
Life on the Mountain is so different from Life in College. But it's good! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4K5GgfstycSydaWaSNGNezmrxzB4h9kO1_otwmENWhBltcIWnuatqeMUQtinySy2TQWHawpV_hFI1bxrbPlwM7OQjjLSrwjEnzD9YjAM5eIX95SDiWynupDptMGexjrX5hqiKfb2HM_k/s1600/IMG_0650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4K5GgfstycSydaWaSNGNezmrxzB4h9kO1_otwmENWhBltcIWnuatqeMUQtinySy2TQWHawpV_hFI1bxrbPlwM7OQjjLSrwjEnzD9YjAM5eIX95SDiWynupDptMGexjrX5hqiKfb2HM_k/s400/IMG_0650.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crosby and I worked at the barn lot for days trying to clean up the brush (shown behind the dump truck).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We inspired other people in the family to help us clean up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These two adorable four-year-olds (my cousins) play in my yard at least once a day. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We take Shelby most places, and we've tried to get creative with the car seat thing. My thoughts were that all a car seat did was give her a few extra inches-just like the arm rest would do! Shelby didn't buy it. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It rained and rained and rained... And I had to get the eggs (Dad left town because of the rain). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEdXxxm7vO1ORSLnXIRfU0EpvtOIJs5KMRs7iTMZQX7ytJbAj9G3ADAsXEXLo7cxJSg4PlO3_mzKJK1pJGp0aeoBe5Lz-AhjJ69YtPYlUTzOs25XkgaFrOe4Cy6JIFt_ogidIhXBuoiE4/s1600/IMG_0663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtEdXxxm7vO1ORSLnXIRfU0EpvtOIJs5KMRs7iTMZQX7ytJbAj9G3ADAsXEXLo7cxJSg4PlO3_mzKJK1pJGp0aeoBe5Lz-AhjJ69YtPYlUTzOs25XkgaFrOe4Cy6JIFt_ogidIhXBuoiE4/s400/IMG_0663.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I work at Poppy Flower Shop and got to make this! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TrbNwCR9TrUWqsDiwofUpnfnP1aaTL4pleU6ps5S-umUGbTsz0t2Io1Ljc9je2OWAsMwi-QfwD8zlWGPt0qnCVQCVSo7knep4_blDQ8SZOtpGwn8TRTcVOajWoVjlSGtHF4AdKSgbVOK/s1600/IMG_0701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TrbNwCR9TrUWqsDiwofUpnfnP1aaTL4pleU6ps5S-umUGbTsz0t2Io1Ljc9je2OWAsMwi-QfwD8zlWGPt0qnCVQCVSo7knep4_blDQ8SZOtpGwn8TRTcVOajWoVjlSGtHF4AdKSgbVOK/s320/IMG_0701.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooking classes were so fun with Crosby... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBS9V4HJr4at3nO7tUZH31nF_b8uimghNL2Ek3X2UwkuWT6VLvg-Z9dO1-PvbQzSTeXKF9c-SoZFs0YPCvRPPJE4D3UDKf2_GBX3xJ3U5DChPjjgtycslr1wYJQTurDywlbzC80ssV93eC/s1600/IMG_0716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBS9V4HJr4at3nO7tUZH31nF_b8uimghNL2Ek3X2UwkuWT6VLvg-Z9dO1-PvbQzSTeXKF9c-SoZFs0YPCvRPPJE4D3UDKf2_GBX3xJ3U5DChPjjgtycslr1wYJQTurDywlbzC80ssV93eC/s320/IMG_0716.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the next night we practiced our cooking.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr10dPlcicYgeIFT2fCzsydoYq3Q9p9RmQQkmRtkbh7imqdVLOnHE_yDLlY0YMDSFxOqnrvTePAxCebbDgxftO9dGoPyl6dfpgP0ljVlrYgeJQJ4wZpD4yiKSInstRnE-6vWLPlTh0607/s1600/IMG_0714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKr10dPlcicYgeIFT2fCzsydoYq3Q9p9RmQQkmRtkbh7imqdVLOnHE_yDLlY0YMDSFxOqnrvTePAxCebbDgxftO9dGoPyl6dfpgP0ljVlrYgeJQJ4wZpD4yiKSInstRnE-6vWLPlTh0607/s400/IMG_0714.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is tiramisu that we learned at cooking class. <br />I forgot half the brandy and rum and it was much better than normal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_va9iagv2kKConi5Tf6ysUuTHiSrKbUAVxvIQYjhytknIAk9TOVmSpeWLS8hYlvJWw8qhQp9oCD0PocrEu2x-WhV-8RZrk41sk0d8nuktnc-b0x2TmQOSpE0iDsAe5sT1RyKV2IVFoNZ5/s1600/IMG_0705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_va9iagv2kKConi5Tf6ysUuTHiSrKbUAVxvIQYjhytknIAk9TOVmSpeWLS8hYlvJWw8qhQp9oCD0PocrEu2x-WhV-8RZrk41sk0d8nuktnc-b0x2TmQOSpE0iDsAe5sT1RyKV2IVFoNZ5/s400/IMG_0705.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Donkeys escaped after the rainstorm because the tree was down on the fence... and so a drizzly morning walk turned into an hour long chase/enticement of the donkeys. Just another day... Good thing I didn't have plans that day.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwSdXMcVrK1Jp5-Mh_ka5otuoEzfG2DNoLu08ILNfDIIo9j_UUWAhC0iW1t08KBQz_8AlOC_01cBZJtLOtPGImvpIJeSTT67OyxMPHU_OqzmD40VYaZkFB4_mWKcbqADCzEYI8a5EbdQE/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwSdXMcVrK1Jp5-Mh_ka5otuoEzfG2DNoLu08ILNfDIIo9j_UUWAhC0iW1t08KBQz_8AlOC_01cBZJtLOtPGImvpIJeSTT67OyxMPHU_OqzmD40VYaZkFB4_mWKcbqADCzEYI8a5EbdQE/s400/IMG_0709.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I get to watch Laurel Anne and Shelby at gymnastics.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YYrQwqbx6QH63_Ht8OlN7PbtaLKfLJpi9-bPyk0h9fodiqLyT9G82VhNo3VL1rOooY1vkfvta7YyixSlhME8rXeKaM-6SIoOtqJAp9JeVrJRjhU6OtbCSPlRoYAH3G3-udglkb-SLuQ-/s1600/IMG_0721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YYrQwqbx6QH63_Ht8OlN7PbtaLKfLJpi9-bPyk0h9fodiqLyT9G82VhNo3VL1rOooY1vkfvta7YyixSlhME8rXeKaM-6SIoOtqJAp9JeVrJRjhU6OtbCSPlRoYAH3G3-udglkb-SLuQ-/s400/IMG_0721.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I get to visit Geoffrey for UT football games.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qlDBQW74YyFt8roR_c10RY1gTHIL9_KaptlIXogDGTPWinKIgumzerf_AI6r8bYmNz6W_7oe5XzY81t1dj0KdyP4z0t3VJKTcGwwrO8ShaHnhLmwuOAJr3gjcpLUleUBcow9CsgwXZuu/s1600/IMG_0739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qlDBQW74YyFt8roR_c10RY1gTHIL9_KaptlIXogDGTPWinKIgumzerf_AI6r8bYmNz6W_7oe5XzY81t1dj0KdyP4z0t3VJKTcGwwrO8ShaHnhLmwuOAJr3gjcpLUleUBcow9CsgwXZuu/s400/IMG_0739.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I also get to babysit Kaden any time that I want. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBB60DNIUqFyqz8T0e6-zxdeQoN7LDnp7OmE7slHeqq0_YsLnVgL-3cSZ7xeOihuluMwY4GQBZDRyR6s87rrjw4MSN7n0gF4j7KZMe5xKJ9WGX18tn0x0vnB6c8MSDfE9P7xOF2B0Q746x/s1600/IMG_0752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBB60DNIUqFyqz8T0e6-zxdeQoN7LDnp7OmE7slHeqq0_YsLnVgL-3cSZ7xeOihuluMwY4GQBZDRyR6s87rrjw4MSN7n0gF4j7KZMe5xKJ9WGX18tn0x0vnB6c8MSDfE9P7xOF2B0Q746x/s400/IMG_0752.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crosby got a draft horse tonight that is HUGE. She is so gentle and sweet but her size (1700 pounds and her shoulders are 6 feet tall) is intimidating to say the least. I'll be waiting a while before I jump on. At this point, I'm great with looking at her and petting her.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWRvrCL39RsHo8OEDUwk199T6yGHHo_i-N7Tjlm8h4dtNbO571sUeixvsVCMCFSkt3_2oPu9HquGSeKwhqw1BY114RRbUGVz6NtNKUL23QrDa4ZGPLF2Ez9VvVtJMqH2pSggmLnBmr1_L/s1600/IMG_0754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWRvrCL39RsHo8OEDUwk199T6yGHHo_i-N7Tjlm8h4dtNbO571sUeixvsVCMCFSkt3_2oPu9HquGSeKwhqw1BY114RRbUGVz6NtNKUL23QrDa4ZGPLF2Ez9VvVtJMqH2pSggmLnBmr1_L/s400/IMG_0754.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haley the horse could barely fit in the barn stall. </td></tr>
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And so, that's my exciting life on the mountain. It's a very different kind of exciting compared to college exciting, but it's good. Every day is different. And I have a feeling this horse is going to keep it interesting. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-48270866523971894062011-09-04T23:41:00.000-04:002011-09-04T23:44:35.553-04:00Procedures, Burns, and To-do'sI have finally, after two months, had all of my abnormal cancerous cells removed! Two procedures, four numbing shots (the worst part) and twelve stitches later, I have no worries, and I heard Friday that the results came back clear. Dr. Fennewald got it all out. I knew he had gotten it all out because I saw the huge amount of skin he took out of my body (which he so kindly put in front of my face). I figure that I probably lost at least an ounce of weight from that. (Looking on the bright side!)<br />
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I burnt my leg on an exhaust pipe yesterday AGAIN. I'm going to have to start waiting to get stuff from my trunk for at least an hour after I get out of my car. I just don't learn/retain.<br />
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I also burnt myself last week on a metal spoon that had been touching the gas flame on the eye of the stove. Mom had moved the spoon out of the flame by touching the other end of the spoon, and set it down on the counter, and then my arm brushed against the hot end of spoon, and I was SO surprised that a spoon was so hot, and mom was too! I think I screamed. We both heard my arm make a legit sizzle noise. I didn't know that happened in real life.<br />
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And so, I burnt my arm... not on a hot cookie sheet, or on the oven, or even a plate from the microwave... but on a spoon.<br />
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Anyways, I have a pretty low key week planned this week. (Not that it really takes any planning to plan nothing.) I tried planning already, and then I realized that it was dumb. I made this as I was trying to plan what I'd do after work last week:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSDPjPz_G88Beo-DYdoa_6hLCLTo8FJq90HZ3lOC4TyPkvt0z2IIDPNYrdRSrhtJHCqvUrFGH9Dg87GyjqvQFVfHXka3wR3Q0VyP5yRG_w7-CQ4A2cKU5qZLSpMUiQeOF3Kp4JH9ECpQA/s1600/photo-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSDPjPz_G88Beo-DYdoa_6hLCLTo8FJq90HZ3lOC4TyPkvt0z2IIDPNYrdRSrhtJHCqvUrFGH9Dg87GyjqvQFVfHXka3wR3Q0VyP5yRG_w7-CQ4A2cKU5qZLSpMUiQeOF3Kp4JH9ECpQA/s320/photo-8.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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My one plan for this week is that on Tuesday evening, Crosby and I are taking an Italian cooking class that we are really excited about! We'll find other things to do, I'm sure. We've thought about maybe painting some furniture or getting a horse or puppy for Crosby or something like that. We'll also visit sweet, tiny baby Preston, my little 2 week old cousin who lives right next door to me. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8H42jxVZfbnZhGgbOiKcsoxB2tl_lURMv-zqXmNkhdAB2jU7MCnA9DQYJ-Wtd012Q2d8bL_DluJc_Cah9neJBY_E_LkXYx0mt1piCgYzgttHX5ebt4eZwiSsjlSY09UoMOetpvE3pqyVy/s1600/preston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8H42jxVZfbnZhGgbOiKcsoxB2tl_lURMv-zqXmNkhdAB2jU7MCnA9DQYJ-Wtd012Q2d8bL_DluJc_Cah9neJBY_E_LkXYx0mt1piCgYzgttHX5ebt4eZwiSsjlSY09UoMOetpvE3pqyVy/s400/preston.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm still waiting to hear back from a company that I've been interviewing with. They keep calling and saying that it will be a couple of more weeks before they decide, but that I'm still on their radar, so that's good I guess... We will see!<br />
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I'll just keep trying to get my crazy, busy life organized by making detailed to-do lists like the above...<br />
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If you need any random jobs done, let me know. I'd be happy to help! <br />
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PS-- Has anyone else seen the new "scribe"tool on blogger? It's a little pencil icon on the top of a new post that you can click on and it guesses what word that you will type next. It's actually correct a lot of the time! If you have a blog, try it. It's amazing how smart technology is! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-39676281472029033922011-08-30T00:47:00.000-04:002017-01-25T19:22:24.115-05:00Going to LAX... Or notI got the most exciting email today from Karen Stien. (I've never heard of her in my life). It was a forwarded email from delta.com that said Melissa P. has a flight booked from ATL to LAX on November 22 and returning on November 25, already paid by this same stranger's credit card.<br />
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Pretty sweet deal!</div>
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I am sure this person just got the wrong email address and forwarded it to the wrong Melissa P. since my email address is mmp****2@gmail.com, but it's odd that 1) the ticket had my same exact name, first and last, even though my full name isn't in my email address, and 2) that it is to/from the Atlanta airport, which is where I would normally fly out from.</div>
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I could technically, maybe, show up to the airport with my Melissa P. picture identification and get on that flight since I have the confirmation number and all... but I might be sitting next to an angry stranger who bought a ticket for a friend who wasn't allowed on. </div>
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I'd feel pretty bad about that, and I don't want to make national news or something for making a scene in an airplane. </div>
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This gives me a flash back to tonight... getting thrown out of a movie theater (for "being in the wrong auditorium; this auditorium is for VIP only"). The sign outside the door said "The Help 6:45", so we went in and cozied up in our seats. I didn't know to look for a VIP sign. I didn't know there was such a thing as a VIP movie for a film that came out two weeks ago, now showing on a Monday night at 6:45. But apparently there is. And so it was obvious to all the VIP's that we were not VIP's, so we were kicked out to an empty theater auditorium way on down the hall.</div>
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So my point is, getting up out of the "VIP" seats tonight in the <i>dark</i> movie theater by the movie theater woman yelling at Crosby and me was bad enough; I don't want to get kicked out of an airplane by a US marshall in broad <i>daylight</i>. </div>
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I won't be flying for Thanksgiving! Tennessee is great with me... I would<i> much</i> rather stay home. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-19417152014099388192011-08-10T13:42:00.002-04:002011-08-10T13:42:56.961-04:00Where did July go?I'm skipping two jam-packed weeks and about 3 laid-back weeks of my life because I don't know where to start on them so I keep procrastinating on blogging. Camp Coker Creek with Geoffrey's church was great, and so was family vacation at Fripp Island with my whole family.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9V97v-mUjvJX5nY2i7sPMczVZh3DKUjR1qGYTGEyf12_mWbO4BJZwbUEc0PAb2dRiQiDmMd6ZB6scn-avObvJyzmSthaWdqUykLzRSQ_Mh68X9NT0n8MqOGGt41gu86Q494ctPLdo6o-E/s1600/ccc+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9V97v-mUjvJX5nY2i7sPMczVZh3DKUjR1qGYTGEyf12_mWbO4BJZwbUEc0PAb2dRiQiDmMd6ZB6scn-avObvJyzmSthaWdqUykLzRSQ_Mh68X9NT0n8MqOGGt41gu86Q494ctPLdo6o-E/s640/ccc+.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 8th grade girls cabin at camp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7QJO-vBy9sbX0ZszC_Keg8IumqXZoc4MZLnOWAACBvQR4tZZbrpSOS1eiSKrSMLbvKI1sor4L_w01ourvo30r8MeOQ4ABLK4JJpIhT79Nmy9-KOd4oSvFW2kU6j97Bdz_OhU0UADnDCP/s1600/fripp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7QJO-vBy9sbX0ZszC_Keg8IumqXZoc4MZLnOWAACBvQR4tZZbrpSOS1eiSKrSMLbvKI1sor4L_w01ourvo30r8MeOQ4ABLK4JJpIhT79Nmy9-KOd4oSvFW2kU6j97Bdz_OhU0UADnDCP/s640/fripp.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dreaded group picture on a stranger's stairs at Fripp.</td></tr>
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I'll come back to those weeks in further detail later when I don't feel like procrastinating.</div>
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I was around large crowds of people for an extended period of time, so in the weeks following I've enjoyed laying low. Not that I didn't absolutely love every minute of the crowds, a bunk bed and an extremely messy room (both weeks at Fripp and Coker Creek) gets a little old after two weeks.</div>
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And so I came home and have been chilling... Babysitting some, cooking dinner at night, cleaning my room out, shopping for and celebrating mom's birthday, having another pre-cancerous mole surgery, and interviewing for jobs.</div>
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Mom and I made <i>the best</i> tomato tart from Southern Living. It was a puff pastry rolled out, topped with feta, mozzarella, and tomatoes and fresh herbs from the garden. We also made some jalapeno poppers (jalapenos cut in half and topped with cream cheese, wrapped in bacon-- super healthy), which I burnt, but they were still good. Mom and Dad have made some delicious salsa with the tomatoes from the garden, and we have had lots of cucumber and tomato salad with feta. It's been a good eating few weeks! </div>
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I've cleaned my room out for the third time since April, and I think I've finally gotten it clean. Every time I clean, I take out about 2 trash bags of stuff or more, and the next time I do it, I wonder how I missed this stuff the last time I did it. But I think that I've finally got it all, and it feels so good! I can walk around my room without a problem! </div>
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I've gotten to babysit some of the cutest kids (two boys, 10 and 7). We went roller skating, playground playing, to movies, and of course took too many trips to McDonald's. I think I gained weight because of their love of McDonald's! </div>
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The moles that I got taken off and blogged about, they ended up having pre-cancerous cells in them so I got one taken out two weeks ago and got the SEVEN stitches out today. I've got a nice scar on my stomach now, but it's much better than cancer! I am so happy to get the stitches out, and now I just have to wait for August 31 when I get the next spot taken out.</div>
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I have a final interview with a company tomorrow. It's between me and another candidate, and I have to do a 5-10 minute presentation about what my first 90 days in the job will look like, and I am freaking out about it. I am SO nervous.</div>
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I'm just praying that God would show me very clearly where He wants me. </div>
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That's pretty much it for these past few weeks. Hope to update more often, starting this week! </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-85587471532537463952011-07-09T12:48:00.004-04:002011-07-09T12:51:27.063-04:00Fight or Flight?I now know what fight or flight response is. I remember learning about it in anatomy class in the 11th grade but I didn't <i>really</i> know what Mrs. Crowder was talking about. But now I do. I experienced it the night that I did my last blog (two days ago) about my hatred of all things medical (ironic).<br />
<br />
Mary Sessions, Mom and I went up to Tim's Ford Lake about an hour and a half away to our cousin's lake house to meet my sister Laura, Aunt Dixie, Uncle Ken, and cousins Will and Claire. We got there at about 7:30 expecting dinner to be ready, but Laura was standing at the oven about to put the lasagna in when we got there, not realizing that it took 1 hour and 40 minutes to cook. We gave her a hard time about it, but we were really okay with waiting to eat dinner at 9:15.<br />
<br />
We decided to go on an evening boat ride in order to forget our growling stomachs. It was the perfect time of night, not too hot, with the sun setting in the clouds. We stayed out there until about 9:10 (<i>perfect </i>timing for the lasagna).<br />
<br />
When we came back in to dock, Mary Sessions was getting off the boat to tie it up, and she got off where a pole was that was holding up the dock, so her foot hit the pole instead of the dock, along with the side of her face. Then we think she fell backwards and hit the boat (because we can't figure out how the back of her head was bleeding). Then she fell forwards again and hit the dock with her legs off the dock, but top on the dock.<br />
<br />
I don't remember getting off the boat or anything, I just remember knowing that she was unconscious and holding on to her with everything I could because she was falling into the lake. Then my marine Uncle Ken yelled, "DO NOT LET HER FALL INTO THE WATER!" I was having a hard time keeping her up. And then my mom was there holding onto her too, and then Uncle Ken was there, and he was able to pull her up onto the dock. Then I was yelling to call 911, and so was he. Laura was freaking out because couldn't find her phone (which was in her pocket) because she was panicking, but Aunt Dixie was already on the line with them. I think that all happened in about a minute.<br />
<br />
That was my fight response, then I had a flight response. I had to get away from the scene because I knew the marine could do it better than anything I could, and I was completely freaking out seeing Mary Sessions laying there. I went out and up a few stairs towards the house and had my hands lifted praying out loud to Jesus to save her life as she was having a seizure. Laura and Aunt Dixie were praying out loud over her, and Mom was whispering to her, while Uncle Ken was putting her on her side and holding her steady. It was a nightmare scene, but I kept my arms lifted, and for a brief second wondered if any of the many neighbors thought I was a freak if they couldn't see what was going on down at the dock, but I really didn't care at the moment.<br />
<br />
I went to the top of the driveway to wait for the ambulance. I also yelled to an elderly neighbor to see if he knew of a doctor around, but he didn't answer.<br />
<br />
Mary Sessions woke up and the first thing she said was, "I feel better." It was a relief to everyone! She said she couldn't figure out where she was, and she was really fuzzy, telling Uncle Ken that the president is George W. Bush, then laughing because she knew that was wrong. She could move, though Uncle Ken made sure that she not move anything at all.<br />
<br />
And after what seemed like ages, a good 20 minutes, the ambulance arrived. I led the EMTs down there, and they asked her the president, and this time she got it right! Go Mary! I crossed my fingers as it took her a while to remember the year and month, but she got them right.<br />
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They said she needed to be life flighted to a trauma center because she had both a seizure and was unconscious. Apparently just because someone is talking doesn't mean that there isn't a brain injury, so they wanted her to be flown to Vanderbilt, Huntsville, or Chattanooga, and my mom begged for Chattanooga so my dad could be at the hospital when she got there.<br />
<br />
Six men carried Mary Sessions up on a board about 50 stairs to the ambulance. We followed the ambulance to the place where Life Force came to see her off, but then the police wouldn't let us close. There were so many people there! Four sheriff suburbans, a couple police cars, and what looked like the entire volunteer fire department, and of course the helicopter!<br />
<br />
Mary Sessions got a 27 minute ride on a hard board in a neck brace to Erlanger. Laura, Mom and I got a hour and a half car drive as we sweated bullets in two separate cars (brave Mom alone, Laura and I in another car). to Erlanger. Dad got to Erlanger an hour before Mary did because he wanted to make sure he was there. When we arrived, Aunt Anne G, Laura's small group leader, our two pastors, Laura Leatherwood and her brother Wade and a few of Laura's friends were there waiting and praying for Mary.<br />
<br />
A very cute doctor (says Laura) met Mary at the helicopter and got her to her room to check her out. They only let us see her two at a time and I missed the doctor every time I was back there. I just wanted to see what everyone was talking about.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad was sure to take a pic of her on<br />
his camera phone. She was even smiling <br />
in a neck brace!<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The doctor had very good reports and let Mary walk out of the hospital barefooted just 3 hours after she had arrived. Our family got home at 2 am after being stopped by a policewoman for Dad running a red light... After Mary intentionally made a very sickly face and Mom explained the story, the policewoman let them go without proof of insurance, but questioning if Dad was in a condition to drive safely. </span></div>
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I was so happy that the whole family was home that night! I couldn't have even dreamed that would happen when I was praying over the dock just five hours earlier. </div>
<br />
Mom and I had trouble s<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">leeping after all that, even though she was alright. I might have gotten an hour of sleep. I think I was still recovering from the fight or flight response adrenaline or something. I had to start taking every thought captive and Philippians 4:8-ing every thought like Paulette always told us to do ("</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things"). I had to make myself stop what-if-ing everything... And remember that Mary Sessions is great and anyways, God has it all under His control, and He loves her more than any of us do.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aBbb0mMKpDiCLYsIeQtRmYcG5gca8HeECI1UyHRh3nWSL3yscYDAj0ESurJZvERAv4vgc1-Xng-JdSmAT1c1XoaPHX81r4aXWwQU_JRrtrxaKG3YNM5Eu20a52_tSva9KjwrLe1LMwSl/s1600/photo-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aBbb0mMKpDiCLYsIeQtRmYcG5gca8HeECI1UyHRh3nWSL3yscYDAj0ESurJZvERAv4vgc1-Xng-JdSmAT1c1XoaPHX81r4aXWwQU_JRrtrxaKG3YNM5Eu20a52_tSva9KjwrLe1LMwSl/s320/photo-7.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mary Sessions has had lots of visitors, sweet texts, cards, flowers and candy. I am so thankful that she is completely okay, though she is still taking strong pain medicine for her headaches and very sore muscles from hitting things and having a seizure. To me, she's much much better than she could be. It's kind of embarrassing that I'm sore too, though not nearly as bad, from trying to pull her out of the lake. I need to work on my arms and legs a little.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I remember praying that God's Will be done, and that I believed with my all that God could heal her completely, but I didn't even imagine that she would be fine and out of the hospital in 5 hours. This verse is it exactly:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Now</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> all glory to God</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to accomplish </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">infinitely more than we might ask or think</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Glory to him in the church </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ephesians 3:20-21</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-53453096448142843532011-07-07T15:20:00.002-04:002011-07-07T15:24:08.297-04:00The Band-AidTuesday morning I had a dermatologist check up appointment. Dr. Fenn looked at my skin and moles, and he found two moles that looked suspicious, so he ended up telling me that he needed to take biopsies on them. I was fine with that until the nurse led me into another room instead of leaving. You see, I thought that I would come in another day with my mom to have them taken off, but Dr. Fenn wanted to do it immediately.<br />
<br />
I frantically told the nurse that my mother wasn't there and I was alone and had to drive myself home, but she just said that it was okay. That didn't work. Then I told her that I am not good with needles and with things like this, I get queasy sometimes, and I've never had a mole removed. She said that it would be okay. (Not the reactions I was looking for.) And so, I just told her I did NOT want to look at the needle or see ANYTHING that they were doing. And she said, of course, that it would be okay.<br />
<br />
And so she gave me the numbing shots. I closed my eyes and probably made weird faces. She gave me the one on my upper abdomen first, then the one on my back which hurt way more. He then razored them off and I didn't even know he was doing it except for the pressure.... Then came the worst part. The band-aid.<br />
<br />
Ever since I was a child, I've hated band-aids. I've always hated blood and needles and casts and such. I would scream if someone came around me with a cast on or with any limb amputated. My extreme hatred of anything medically related was over the top. When I'd get a bloody knee, I'd be more upset because I had to put a band-aid on it and I knew that it was going to hurt when I had to pull it off.<br />
<br />
I've improved since then. I got shots for Haiti last year all alone, and I got these numbing shots alone, though I did make some painful noises and faces. I can now help other people who get boo-boos and need band-aids. I can be around people with casts and not cry. I've come a long way, but the band-aids still get to me. Especially when I know they are going to hurt!<br />
<br />
You see, at our house we have these intense water-proof band-aids. They are good in theory... until you put them on! They are the stickiest things I've ever seen. It's like those heart monitor stickies that they put on you when you get put to sleep for surgery. Has anyone else ever woken up when they haven't taken them off and suffered through the pain of ripping them off?<br />
<br />
Well, these band-aids are like that! And they are painful to get off. It's hard to get them off because they stick so closely to the skin, you have to use your fingernails to peel it up. I have to change two band-aids twice a day, so I have to do it a lot.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To sum it up, the band-aids have caused me more stress and worry than the procedure itself ever did. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pray that the biopsy comes back with good results (no cancer) so that I won't have to have another worse procedure where they take out more. Skin cancer runs in our family and I have decided to wear more sunscreen so I don't have to wear more band-aids! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-2832324849231282562011-06-28T13:42:00.000-04:002011-06-28T13:42:55.696-04:00The End of the TripToday we came to a different hotel, but in the same city of Sorrento. The new hotel, Johanna Park Hotel is slightly outside of the city and has a shuttle to the city. They were nice enough to bring their shuttle to pick us up at our last hotel so we didn't have to carry the luggage everywhere. However, their "shuttle" looked like this. It was interesting fitting four people with four big bags into this car.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhfQFnDmA-gHX_ryh_bHWuVqWi24AyP6Ghrp_nOyZev5vNI0rM08divkGQpi2dEIZASoA6x2uvpoFuhi_XnbBwO881xpIMx0LLbsfTFmqRze9gVg7i3Mj3BMmMVU7fjbarjY1JYseSpid/s1600/IMG_0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhfQFnDmA-gHX_ryh_bHWuVqWi24AyP6Ghrp_nOyZev5vNI0rM08divkGQpi2dEIZASoA6x2uvpoFuhi_XnbBwO881xpIMx0LLbsfTFmqRze9gVg7i3Mj3BMmMVU7fjbarjY1JYseSpid/s640/IMG_0500.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had to carry two suitcases on top of us in the car. My suitcase wasn't small...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So anyways, our shuttle driver told us that we just absolutely had to go to Positano, a neighboring city about 30 minutes away by SITA bus. He said the bus ticket was only 7,20 euro round-trip, and there was a beach there and it was gorgeous. We had been wanting to go anyways, so we decided to do it. The bus picked us up right outside of the hotel, and we packed in through the middle door of the bus. There were already about 20 people standing in the aisle of the coach bus, so we joined them standing in the stairs for the middle door of the bus. Before this, I thought that I was becoming used to the smelly people over there. But no... The man next to us smelled so badly that I gagged a few times. He was up against me because there was no room and he had his arms up holding onto the rails. All four of us got motion sickness I think, and then we started going on these cliffs.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2378/2405369798_e8130fe4ec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2378/2405369798_e8130fe4ec.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
The last 20 minutes of the drive was on a road like this, with the bus driver gassing it on the straight parts and going way too fast on the sharp curves with the bus tilting, looking like it was going to flip. Some say the drive was beautiful, I say the drive almost made me have my first ever anxiety attack, and I'm used to driving near cliffs on a mountain. Nonetheless, we made it there safely.<br />
<br />
We loved Positano. It's an adorable, colorful city on a hill/cliff with the beach at the bottom. There are cute shops, lots of boats, and many tourists. The houses and restaurants are all stacked on top of one another on the hill. It was really neat and had tons of steps.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyY6icKoA7A42nDFFpWBEvpwy90pRUkXdhH9-G1p3W2YereBDM2gHmcDa6xO1g1lzeVwa5uHQCnTRlFA2NeYfZSPNZjlZOw0I18cKdxNZJpNQwTTdyF51BVhOFK_BRo68uM0mrV4o08XaM/s1600/IMG_0485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyY6icKoA7A42nDFFpWBEvpwy90pRUkXdhH9-G1p3W2YereBDM2gHmcDa6xO1g1lzeVwa5uHQCnTRlFA2NeYfZSPNZjlZOw0I18cKdxNZJpNQwTTdyF51BVhOFK_BRo68uM0mrV4o08XaM/s640/IMG_0485.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
The beach was made of pebbles instead of sand, which brought a nice twist to it. I liked lying on the pebbles, but I didn't like walking on them because they got into my shoes and were super hot, as they were grayish-black.<br />
<br />
After a nice day of laying out and reading, I began to get nervous about the drive home, but I was comforted by the fact that most of the time, we would not be on the same side of the road as the cliff because we'd be in the opposite lane. We waited about an hour for the bus to come, and when we got on, there was just about no room for us.<br />
<br />
The driver made Aunt Anne G. stand in the stair well in the front of the bus, right next to him, and he made her hold on to the front rail with two hands. She kind of looked like she thought she was driving or something. We couldn't stop laughing about it because she was also nervous about the ride, and there was no way she could avoid looking at the scary road unless she closed her eyes. I was the first person standing in the aisle, right behind Anne G. and the driver, also ironic because I could see everything and would be the first person through the windshield if anything happened.<br />
<br />
But this time, we had a good bus driver who beeped before each blind turn so that oncoming cars wouldn't hit us, and he went slow around curves. He couldn't understand English and was very serious about driving, but sometimes I threw out the word "Bueno" just so he knew I approved and would keep up the caution. <br />
<br />
We went up part of a mountain, and then got to the top and began going down. I watched carefully as the driver shift into second gear, and I was glad to see this in case the brakes went out. A few minutes later as we were on the decline, the driver sniffed and looked around. Then Anne G. sniffed and said, "Do you smell the brakes?" I shrugged. Then the driver sniffed, looked in his rear mirror, and started cursing in English. I thought he was mad at Anne G for saying his brakes were out, but he slammed on the brakes, opened the doors, and pushed me and Anne G out the door (without my purse with wallet and passport) before grabbing the fire extinguisher.<br />
<br />
I quickly noticed smoke coming out the back of the bus and freaked out about it blowing up and my passport being in there. I was in a bind because I know you're never supposed to go back into a fire, but I thought I'd be stuck there without the passport so I started yelling at the people who were rushing out of the bus to grab my bag. Someone did, and I couldn't tell you the first thing about what the person looked like, I just ran away from the bus in case of an explosion.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/268620_1884467440411_1503120131_31724339_1994589_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/268620_1884467440411_1503120131_31724339_1994589_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
We called our hotel shuttle to pick us up because I did not want to ride another bus the rest of the way down the mountain, and we knew that our hotel owner would be nice enough to send someone to get us. A man came and got us in a different "shuttle."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCeFjTppJWVgtxZCahyphenhyphensAEr3Fw7JxflHsZzx0klF4f9gGzD45zwcDWh4RJK4-sUU83_MRu06kQjqQDswpjEFQM-cnhMaj_ZXCSInPd6yyJJMq0_VzqObNLFOtfxHVn1o93hJ7WmzVaA8Z/s1600/IMG_0497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCeFjTppJWVgtxZCahyphenhyphensAEr3Fw7JxflHsZzx0klF4f9gGzD45zwcDWh4RJK4-sUU83_MRu06kQjqQDswpjEFQM-cnhMaj_ZXCSInPd6yyJJMq0_VzqObNLFOtfxHVn1o93hJ7WmzVaA8Z/s640/IMG_0497.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I was just thankful it wasn't a bus!<br />
<br />
So anyways, we got to the hotel and took hot baths and we to sleep soon after so that we could wake up at 5 the next morning for a bus to Rome (which never came). We ended up having to ride a train at 7:50 and then finally making it to Rome by 2 in the afternoon. It was okay though, and I was secretly glad that it was a train instead of a bus, even if it took an extra 4 hours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZckbPRCNabFr6fLZDeZ2e1o2XAIBIqlpzIT7RyrWxOJg9H3d9vejUYV7IxMErIFbpS11RwiG9_mC9a_LrVVLufNQrAPoQ6fPZnOvR-Zb6tIWMAQsYY13rvIoXIiGOg4svDSdO1l3eHJpW/s1600/IMG_0505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZckbPRCNabFr6fLZDeZ2e1o2XAIBIqlpzIT7RyrWxOJg9H3d9vejUYV7IxMErIFbpS11RwiG9_mC9a_LrVVLufNQrAPoQ6fPZnOvR-Zb6tIWMAQsYY13rvIoXIiGOg4svDSdO1l3eHJpW/s640/IMG_0505.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of the Trevi fountain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We spent the rest of the day in Rome seeing the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain, shopping, eating, and searching for good gelato. It was a nice day with a nice hotel and a nice dinner and amazing gelato from a place called Venchi.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhPsaijxK5c0Hoa6WnCCqOrOcn4XrPdg3XogBACCphEjX-9vABmsLj1If1IiYfNVBwtbm_5kvLX6JT_WbeYQAVi5_BFxxtiJ0hgZ6sF5QQ8vO3Rm86yX61R_sfw0-lhZjm4A8pTsDoK35/s1600/IMG_0501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhPsaijxK5c0Hoa6WnCCqOrOcn4XrPdg3XogBACCphEjX-9vABmsLj1If1IiYfNVBwtbm_5kvLX6JT_WbeYQAVi5_BFxxtiJ0hgZ6sF5QQ8vO3Rm86yX61R_sfw0-lhZjm4A8pTsDoK35/s640/IMG_0501.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our last Italian dinner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The next morning we were up and at'em and ready to come home! It was a wonderful trip, but by the end I was ready to come home to the US and stop worrying about the conversion rate between dollars to euros (one euro is about $1.50, so it's terrible). Uncle Paul picked us up in a very roomy Sequoyah SUV, and I thought, this is why I love being home... There is space!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-22121356300467885542011-06-24T11:18:00.000-04:002011-06-24T11:18:34.872-04:00Ponza, Naples, and an Allergic ReactionWe are in Sorrento now! It's a cute little town south of Naples on the Amalfi Coast. It has beautiful views of the ocean and is very charming. We love our hotel, too! It is one of the cheapest, yet it still has character. It's family-run and has amazing breakfast. We have been in town today, riding a train around and walking the streets. We stopped to get gelato at a famous place that many famous people have visited. It was delicious until Meredith started having an allergic reaction. We all kind of panicked. She is allergic to nuts, so she got mint chocolate chip and coffee ice cream, but apparently nuts got in the gelato and her throat started swelling before she finished the cone. I had to help her out and finish the cone as we sprint-walked to find a "pharmacia"where the Benadryl was 15 Eu ($21), and so we decided to try to find our hotel to get her Benadryl from home. I'm pretty sure we were all saying silent prayers as we sweated our way home from being hot as well as nervous.<br />
<br />
Meredith skyped her mom, and decided she didn't need a hospital and just took an antihistamine and is now sleeping. We decided it was the perfect time for an afternoon siesta because it's so hot outside and we are tired from yesterday....<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">YESTERDAY was crazy. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We began on the tiny island of Ponza on the Tyrrhenian Sea off the coast of Southern Italy. It was beautiful and calm and peaceful. We felt like we knew just about everyone on the island--the hotel workers, hotel owner, waiter, restaurant owner next door, beach worker, bus driver... Everyone was so friendly and helpful, even though most did not know English. We did a lot of acting, mostly acting out swimming because that was the easiest way to say we were going to the beautiful beach that was just about 300 stairs down from our hotel. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJAYjq_jNbZXTwJjiybvnxuXg9NFq0Rp9ioo2qdNCN9d_56V5eQ0qaevxJkD4YMjddzKLkFIg7VjQrwAYEIq5fVrVTV5lw-bSIrhaON2VYd9cCOo4gG9nTYHob6x_UFObGE_u11WY1VMI/s1600/IMG_0467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJAYjq_jNbZXTwJjiybvnxuXg9NFq0Rp9ioo2qdNCN9d_56V5eQ0qaevxJkD4YMjddzKLkFIg7VjQrwAYEIq5fVrVTV5lw-bSIrhaON2VYd9cCOo4gG9nTYHob6x_UFObGE_u11WY1VMI/s640/IMG_0467.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was well-worth the walk, but it was a long walk down. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuwqRV41v15hRhaNnh45Wlud5FhxUFaZSrQIfG4N2cqdS6KhtwHSbtu9Zoh7RBb9jleoj6aVoP88kcOGlIwzKTtKdThhVXAnxOHoXczBuQRvMUwWWp3XSsBiXobfgTnQHe2JEjb8LHD4yw/s1600/IMG_0466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuwqRV41v15hRhaNnh45Wlud5FhxUFaZSrQIfG4N2cqdS6KhtwHSbtu9Zoh7RBb9jleoj6aVoP88kcOGlIwzKTtKdThhVXAnxOHoXczBuQRvMUwWWp3XSsBiXobfgTnQHe2JEjb8LHD4yw/s640/IMG_0466.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the only sandy beach that we went to. We loved it! The boulder beaches were pretty but the rocks weren't so comfy. We had the best weather we could've asked for.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">We stayed in Ponza for just 2 nights before moving on. It was perfect for relaxing after Barcelona, and we were all so glad that we took the time to go over there. (It was a beautiful 3 hour ferry ride away.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Anyways, we left our sweet hotel, Hotel Ornensia, and crammed our suitcases onto Ponza's public bus where the very friendly bus driver sang to us in Italian. Then we relaxed on the cargo ferry for three hours as we traveled to Formia where we planned catch a train to Naples. After dragging the luggage up about 50 stairs and asking about 6 people for directions to the station, we found it. The crowded (rush hour) train scared all of us because of the rough crowd on board. We were stressed because we couldn't find seats where our luggage would fit, and there were some creepy men in the section by the door where we had to stand with our luggage.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Four seats finally cleared out for Meredith, Mary, and me. They got into the four seats facing each other, then we stacked four bags on top and around us. People stared, but we were happy to be seated. Anne G sat across the aisle from us where she met a middle-aged, Russian woman, who when we asked where she was from, replied with, "How do I look from?" After some clarification, we figured out that she meant, "Where do I look like I'm from?" Her English was better than our Russian, so I'm not making fun, but it was awkward. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So Ulka, the Russian lady, talked to Anne G the entire rest of the time and she was going to Sorrento as well. So when we got off the train, she ended up "clinging" to us and throwing everything into confusion. The train from Naples to Sorrento was on strike, so she told us that we were going to split a hotel and all stay in one room and then come to Sorrento the next day. She started bossing us around and we really didn't like it, so we had to tell her that we were going to go ahead and come to Sorrento without her. Meanwhile, taxi drivers were mobbing us trying to get us to ride in their cars for way too much money, and we didn't know what to do. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We arrived safely at our quaint hotel at about 8 or 9 after an hour drive. I was so stressed by that time that we couldn't decide what to eat for dinner, so the waiter ordered a pizza for me. (And it turned out to be great!)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77VeIpVSBz1XX43pALUf500OkqFHRh_cfK8tkX0kT-4jwKkmKq9HOgac-ykgj5MuOepATuDmL_1IBLMRlFkY-8u12ahQ92xtjBnN3hE7H2QPM3wYIp2u0OMJuj4u-EfmZl6r54bxaeTUZ/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77VeIpVSBz1XX43pALUf500OkqFHRh_cfK8tkX0kT-4jwKkmKq9HOgac-ykgj5MuOepATuDmL_1IBLMRlFkY-8u12ahQ92xtjBnN3hE7H2QPM3wYIp2u0OMJuj4u-EfmZl6r54bxaeTUZ/s640/IMG_0472.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cute town has this plant everywhere. I think it's the same kind of plant that the Streets <br />
gave me last summer. Wish my thumb was green enough to have one looking like this!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We woke up to a wonderful breakfast and lovely day in Sorrento until we had the allergic reaction, and though her throat isn't swollen any more, Meredith is still not feeling better yet. It's really hot, and that's what I think is making her sick. We may go try to find a place with air conditioning! I'm very thankful for a restful day, but I feel bad that Meredith has to be sick. Say a little prayer for her... We'd like to stay away from the Sorrento hospital.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And a few pictures that I didn't put up last post...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtqTP9FThkmvSvlPLpuCCCr_Ztox-kKKdhHVDebb5qQT1bRmSaawNbMZgUzGTPNI9VW6vfmXU-cLnhNZ2LwV3qjnA9sXFrike2IJ1iZX-wHRIWO7yfxdwsWFDQ9bA5u3r0uEUW8CbKGgv/s1600/IMG_0442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhtqTP9FThkmvSvlPLpuCCCr_Ztox-kKKdhHVDebb5qQT1bRmSaawNbMZgUzGTPNI9VW6vfmXU-cLnhNZ2LwV3qjnA9sXFrike2IJ1iZX-wHRIWO7yfxdwsWFDQ9bA5u3r0uEUW8CbKGgv/s640/IMG_0442.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from Parc Guell above Barcelona</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZGayL_0F6AccTZcYTE7_Vp1lZOO1g4pkqL6fhL-SWd7fLmrbsMooiJBi2jC5lB2DPM-Un8hwNDTkTfJanWDiS-HBPJtOZIuZwEFJFlUQNny1v6qDvNnkv9Dpp9gKF533jLWSITfwTAg7/s1600/IMG_0426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZGayL_0F6AccTZcYTE7_Vp1lZOO1g4pkqL6fhL-SWd7fLmrbsMooiJBi2jC5lB2DPM-Un8hwNDTkTfJanWDiS-HBPJtOZIuZwEFJFlUQNny1v6qDvNnkv9Dpp9gKF533jLWSITfwTAg7/s640/IMG_0426.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A boy we didn't really know "fell asleep" on Mary.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gQ5q1dIxScbm7xa9HORhZVEzimGA0sRcF1eKu9e16KeyWIRXv3PfX2Y6lHhv3k-ZJ000JTyt5c5DxOcTMNmlH2tfTRECC57MMrpwgVZFocoS109UijAZXCS1wZjXfOH57kweK6EOkYoz/s1600/IMG_0444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gQ5q1dIxScbm7xa9HORhZVEzimGA0sRcF1eKu9e16KeyWIRXv3PfX2Y6lHhv3k-ZJ000JTyt5c5DxOcTMNmlH2tfTRECC57MMrpwgVZFocoS109UijAZXCS1wZjXfOH57kweK6EOkYoz/s640/IMG_0444.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of Parc Guell</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZy2jTDkyRg62VBWjcSQ-sOF7Tg7rsQhfmOPe63Icya86wl3BfWbPLhPIVVRrXUqed6v1mAkcH2AO9n7dqJpD8hK8ZS1pC6ZUPaqWtsCfZn1Ty_kmSjmRZTMQOpq6axfrvBcJFb-VjYRKW/s1600/IMG_0446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZy2jTDkyRg62VBWjcSQ-sOF7Tg7rsQhfmOPe63Icya86wl3BfWbPLhPIVVRrXUqed6v1mAkcH2AO9n7dqJpD8hK8ZS1pC6ZUPaqWtsCfZn1Ty_kmSjmRZTMQOpq6axfrvBcJFb-VjYRKW/s640/IMG_0446.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary sitting with the old ladies at the bus stop.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmvUREJO7lqQlh__ecqvChg3EtDqARYH79iNnes0rMKmQoRzsgTLJYWluMvDFA7BUJhpWozHDRNuee_8QflmwYk-tpxYtDBtbnOuwj6cQ33C7sNDxNnegnAhYDU7emckoNPx0lI9Sasgm/s1600/IMG_0448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmvUREJO7lqQlh__ecqvChg3EtDqARYH79iNnes0rMKmQoRzsgTLJYWluMvDFA7BUJhpWozHDRNuee_8QflmwYk-tpxYtDBtbnOuwj6cQ33C7sNDxNnegnAhYDU7emckoNPx0lI9Sasgm/s640/IMG_0448.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our yummy Catalynan dish from the Bachelor party. We are broadening our palate.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEHEAqmqsRZpskIAXQfKLRAG4RiRPBpa1rSRgYwSm-7RjkhZAekBYnbPrtSG7gmP3VP3Xb275VJiNlBB9uKwmY-H0J5gVfh2QcvpPpzcrJdd78QC8ux0lFfe3TiU7Zykv-7OMa7OzzwOV/s1600/IMG_0450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEHEAqmqsRZpskIAXQfKLRAG4RiRPBpa1rSRgYwSm-7RjkhZAekBYnbPrtSG7gmP3VP3Xb275VJiNlBB9uKwmY-H0J5gVfh2QcvpPpzcrJdd78QC8ux0lFfe3TiU7Zykv-7OMa7OzzwOV/s640/IMG_0450.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sea Shepherd is docked in Barcelona!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghomsJAUuPX0QpAfn9Ma67B_Qr0RTv397SnvdLPRgBARkl-2_haAuPVq_ozkaC5BjIZAMOJHJZT9qPBUauT36kqm96tt3sEuVeaYuEC2dk2AIo70IVxCpVHLjQJ-4s132hsql_W4Akoehr/s1600/IMG_0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghomsJAUuPX0QpAfn9Ma67B_Qr0RTv397SnvdLPRgBARkl-2_haAuPVq_ozkaC5BjIZAMOJHJZT9qPBUauT36kqm96tt3sEuVeaYuEC2dk2AIo70IVxCpVHLjQJ-4s132hsql_W4Akoehr/s640/IMG_0470.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary and Meredith with the cute town of Ponza in the background.</td></tr>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-18898820935796153692011-06-20T10:10:00.000-04:002011-06-20T10:10:34.925-04:00Barcelona<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We have loved the city of Barcelona. We've met lots of very fun people, and have gone to lots of very fun places. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Someone told us before we got here that the city was so great because the public transportation was so easy. That made me happy because that also meant that the transportation would be cheap, and so upon our arrival, we bought a pass for 10 rides for 8,75 euros. Good deal! Only .70 euro for a ride!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Anyways, our first day, we wanted to visit the amazing La Sagrada Familia, so we asked a woman at the tourist info place to give us directions for the metro. She did, I wrote it on the map, and we headed that way. We got off the metro on the stop that we thought she told us, but we were in the middle of a neighborhood. We asked someone where to go, and she told us to walk down a road. 30 minutes later, we were in a tiny quickie shop in what looked like a very residential, somewhat rough neighborhood, trying to communicate with the men working there. 30 minutes later or maybe more, we were at the La Sagrada Familia by about 3 pm. That was our first experience with the easy public transportation.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We made it to the Parc Guell on a bus, which was a huge feat, and the park was amazing. Pictures to come.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That night we got home by about 9, and wanted dinner, so we got ready and decided that we would go to the beach area to eat a good Barcelona meal. We asked the hotel man how to get there, and he said, "It is an L, you go left, then you turn right on the first street and it leads you there." </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We thought that sounded easy enough. 20 minutes later, we saw water at a bay, but we couldn't find a beach or restaurants. We asked a big group of guys where the beach and a good restaurant was, and they laughed, and told us in very broken English to follow them. We followed about 20 feet behind them because they ignored us and didn't seem like they wanted to chat.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We found the beach and restaurants and stopped and the group of guys kept walking. Then a couple of them stopped when they didn't see us behind them, and they walked back and said, "No, no, this is not it. This is not good. It is up here. Follow us." And so we followed them. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The rest of the group of 11 guys was already sitting down when we got to the outdoor restaurant, and they had already asked the waiter for 4 extra seats because we had to have reservations (first red flag). We thought it was very nice of them, and they were very prepared. We sat down and they started bringing us tons of food. Olives, bread, fried fruit of the sea, fried calamari, wine, sangria... Without us even asking (second red flag). We didn't eat at first because we thought that another person had ordered it, until we realized we were paying for this, and we ate every last bite because we knew that we wouldn't be able to afford to eat for a few days after this meal.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Anyways, when they poured the wine, they all toasted, "To Francisco!" And we wondered what was up with Francisco. Then one of them told us that this was his Bachelor party. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We were like, "What! We shouldn't be crashing his party!" They assured us that it wasn't a problem, but we still felt bad. And so, for a couple of hours, the 4 of us girls ate at the very end of a table of 11 Italian men who were chanting songs about thinking long and hard about getting married before you do it. It was in Italian, but one guy translated it to us in broken English. We had many long, difficult conversations throughout dinner with the guys. I would usually just say "Bella" or "Bueno" (beautiful or good). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Since I've been here, I've also really picked up on broken English. We have even started speaking it to each other when we are in the room! We talk much slower, without contractions, using our hands to describe things, and sometimes put an English accent on it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Anyways, the Italians ended up being very nice guys (from what we understood) and they stopped ignoring us after we sat at their table, but it was just so random. When we were going home, one guy showed us how to get on the bus. Then he ended up riding the bus with us to show us which stop to get off of because I think that was easier than trying to explain it to us. Once we were off the bus, we knew where to walk. We got home pretty quickly, and were so glad for that.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The next day we went to the beach for the day, and we went a "shortcut" that ended up taking us about an hour to get there instead of 20 minutes. So we asked the same friend that we made who was from Barcelona who had helped us get home the night before, how to get home on the bus during the day. He showed us exactly which bus to get on and walked us to the bus stop. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After about 45 minutes riding the bus, we started wondering why we were still on it since our stop was only about 2 miles away. We stay on the bus for another 45 minutes thinking that it would go back to where we recognized something. We had asked the driver, but he spoke Spanish. Long story short, a woman ended up translating to us that there were protestors all over the city so they would not be able to go close to our neighborhood, but we should get off immediately to get home. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Some wandering, map studying, and 3 different metros later, we arrived home in less than 2 hours from the beach that was 2 miles away. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I decided that the American woman who told us that Barcelona's transportation was "so easy," was probably from New York City. It's not that we were that dumb, it's just that we don't have that kind of thing in the South. That's what I keep telling myself.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So far, we have walked everywhere today, and we are taking a metro to dinner tonight, but we aren't going to risk getting lost on the way to the airport tomorrow. We decided that we will splurge on a taxi! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I think my favorite thing about Barcelona so far has been the culture and the feel of it. It has a fun feel. It's beautiful and clean and everyone seems to be happy, helpful and friendly. My other favorite thing is their waffles drizzled with Nutella, with 2 scoops of gelato on it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I would come back to this city again, and I'd definitely recommend it to anyone coming this way! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And really, we have had fun on our long walks through neighborhoods in the suburbs of Barcelona. The public transportation isn't all bad. It has given us the chance to see where the people actually live. We would have never done that if we had been able to figure out how to get places!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Pictures are coming as soon as I download a few!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-46891018961999664332011-06-17T17:51:00.000-04:002011-06-17T17:51:26.189-04:00Hello BarcelonaWe just arrived in Barcelona at our hotel. We had a fun, smooth day of traveling. Praise the Lord!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZBQWoZTVIn_MvH9JDBGW0oWMdUstWOev61F0pNMc8MbtOs6_OF3tTcmNdb-4ZFITTubBJnoXcoT2ZAOGSS7GFJ0L5R-eiyI-yEHoIvpWc7hkRw7wbvpV_2ATX-PatzIFnUFG8DtkXGV1/s1600/IMG_0421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZBQWoZTVIn_MvH9JDBGW0oWMdUstWOev61F0pNMc8MbtOs6_OF3tTcmNdb-4ZFITTubBJnoXcoT2ZAOGSS7GFJ0L5R-eiyI-yEHoIvpWc7hkRw7wbvpV_2ATX-PatzIFnUFG8DtkXGV1/s320/IMG_0421.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For $34 a night, we got a great room! Beautiful, high ceilings and a balcony!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdgb-WbplEw3xV1Q2k4-VEXNHSXmjpTQfVbU0JvYOF4zYRL99R0H_5M4tZGim0x9kxwtch9aUTRJoMaPJzj8sKBzStQTno_xZkb4v6c45CkGl6BpwBSUaslQ6rEBcrU9lg3iU9R04_nhJ/s1600/IMG_0424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdgb-WbplEw3xV1Q2k4-VEXNHSXmjpTQfVbU0JvYOF4zYRL99R0H_5M4tZGim0x9kxwtch9aUTRJoMaPJzj8sKBzStQTno_xZkb4v6c45CkGl6BpwBSUaslQ6rEBcrU9lg3iU9R04_nhJ/s320/IMG_0424.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That's me on the balcony if you couldn't really tell.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXnrZT1RXLSpuHM3kqHP7Q1RymKmaz1xKWYoanPih6HhiAS_MDBoYrY-TqIeLQX1rw8tD2Lx7-E9c50oZgHDj8KO2ENRWTFRq0911MMO51cBLeNOnjeN-j6uM65Z6PYAxJqUNuKhxwJ-M/s1600/IMG_0425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXnrZT1RXLSpuHM3kqHP7Q1RymKmaz1xKWYoanPih6HhiAS_MDBoYrY-TqIeLQX1rw8tD2Lx7-E9c50oZgHDj8KO2ENRWTFRq0911MMO51cBLeNOnjeN-j6uM65Z6PYAxJqUNuKhxwJ-M/s320/IMG_0425.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And we have a cute view of a nice pedestrian street from our balcony!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We'll let you know if we can fall asleep with all the noise... </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-44430132834866269792011-06-16T18:10:00.000-04:002011-06-16T18:10:01.720-04:00Under the Tuscan Sun...We had a bus tour today through Tuscany. We went to Siena, a vineyard/farm, San Gimignano, and Pisa. It was busy, busy, go, go, go, but very fun! I would completely recommend the WalkAbout Bus Tour- Best of Tuscany if you are ever planning on coming to this area!<br />
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I tried to take more pictures with my phone today so I could put some on here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJYxy8Co66KM85G6mYNQUSygCSL7opXiz2Xgp1SYgs9l6V5m5dNid-z365y_Yqu-dwmhOF1p6zovnOhzjfzIzFoIbMhdWaNM9faaJcO7ADoJRasDZdxztb4IpY6fnfaZVVLhNY4Pi2AxYN/s1600/IMG_0404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJYxy8Co66KM85G6mYNQUSygCSL7opXiz2Xgp1SYgs9l6V5m5dNid-z365y_Yqu-dwmhOF1p6zovnOhzjfzIzFoIbMhdWaNM9faaJcO7ADoJRasDZdxztb4IpY6fnfaZVVLhNY4Pi2AxYN/s640/IMG_0404.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful wine country! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiF_JliCJ7VsfWIRFJ4tFvOuLHqgPdm47oHvPRtg64d0FNMVC4AjPRKR9aBP2bdDYRBNMi1VKlFtlcaOnOPzOx5z9nS_KyyKL_ycvB3wR9pAy1zEKrl59Ot6vV5yKNrFTtqqSvye-5s5-w/s1600/IMG_0407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiF_JliCJ7VsfWIRFJ4tFvOuLHqgPdm47oHvPRtg64d0FNMVC4AjPRKR9aBP2bdDYRBNMi1VKlFtlcaOnOPzOx5z9nS_KyyKL_ycvB3wR9pAy1zEKrl59Ot6vV5yKNrFTtqqSvye-5s5-w/s640/IMG_0407.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary in the vineyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtn3JfscXlhZaJryWaYX-DwMt5woyQijAjzgzQzhAvkQQdpcbIwU_B_VG6DU-KkoAmB2_RM90bL_whcQ8YISYhQiv7zLUgHEM1XCnV6Yva8mQcXV3uP1Qrjpd8sgFM5wF7WX47-1O9jhxw/s1600/IMG_0413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtn3JfscXlhZaJryWaYX-DwMt5woyQijAjzgzQzhAvkQQdpcbIwU_B_VG6DU-KkoAmB2_RM90bL_whcQ8YISYhQiv7zLUgHEM1XCnV6Yva8mQcXV3uP1Qrjpd8sgFM5wF7WX47-1O9jhxw/s640/IMG_0413.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little bit windy on the overlook in San Gimignano... Beautiful Tuscan hills.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZM1GxoHLB3UgV8QzPKuwQ4MkZkDrrmq_7Yu8GxvpYnEzL8yQrnaf3V1nMV7tk3sqJJ8KcGbqCnCSidkj11CARWcGX7DBsyuG1BVFBWQFFtJQ8YGfD5rdXNeylFLU6Xky5j5oW5hvYjP_/s1600/IMG_0418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZM1GxoHLB3UgV8QzPKuwQ4MkZkDrrmq_7Yu8GxvpYnEzL8yQrnaf3V1nMV7tk3sqJJ8KcGbqCnCSidkj11CARWcGX7DBsyuG1BVFBWQFFtJQ8YGfD5rdXNeylFLU6Xky5j5oW5hvYjP_/s640/IMG_0418.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We couldn't believe how much it actually leaned! It was insane.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Shortly after taking this last picture I realized that my passport, credit cards, and cash was gone. I got very nervous and after a few minutes, what felt like the entire tour group was staring at me and asking me questions. We couldn't find it on the bus or anything until an hour later, after the panic had completely set in and I had sweat through my shirt. It was the worst feeling ever. We rode the bus for about an hour and then I put my hand down in the crack beside my chair that my sister had been sitting in, and I felt the wallet. I'm telling you that I believe a miracle happened today. I don't know how in the world the wallet could have gotten there, and I don't know why I put my hand down that crack when I wasn't even looking for the wallet. Anyways, I feel ten times better and am going to sleep now resting easy, knowing that I don't have to spend all day tomorrow at the Embassy.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-86914782934716207902011-06-15T12:26:00.001-04:002011-06-15T12:30:37.885-04:00We're here!!!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6iXuo2wBf9NmN820w9PNB8qiVU1uj_ArXjUI6KrrP8TWd-GJ6JmFsWZsbdcYyvD4P2KqOY82aLVKdcXPrsPOFo0N459twRXHnPO5zo4DWSI0KzdO6A0LSpciWmHWtbsmk1eFky_okm4O/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6iXuo2wBf9NmN820w9PNB8qiVU1uj_ArXjUI6KrrP8TWd-GJ6JmFsWZsbdcYyvD4P2KqOY82aLVKdcXPrsPOFo0N459twRXHnPO5zo4DWSI0KzdO6A0LSpciWmHWtbsmk1eFky_okm4O/s400/IMG_0376.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary was completely out in the first 5 minutes on the train.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We had a long couple of days traveling from plane to plane to train to train, then we drug our luggage down uneven stone sidewalks. After about 20 minutes, we finally found our quaint little hotel entrance, and a man opened the door, and Mary said, "We're here!!!" She acted like he knew who we were. The man just stared at her, and there was a moment of silence, and I was thinking, Mary!! Say something else. Maybe a, "We're here to check in." or "Do you work at the hotel?" Anyways, after we got over the awkward moment, we couldn't stop laughing at Mary's first words to our hotel owner. He was one of the most serious people that I have ever met and he never cracked a smile, very nice, but doesn't laugh at any of our jokes or when one of us says "Hola!" or when we accidently walked past our hotel today saying, that man looks just like our hotel owner!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiIR1cr-nIiKsmqFSN0iyYvIKGuif9ikauj9sDxXFr9nqmodDGq47yyADFcNRVfAoukpq3IE5N5CPbPHATE9DExugc34gEC68eOITw5IZs_4e_KtkOzhRWPPmEuajTBD_uJjDyjAwJvUO/s1600/IMG_0378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiIR1cr-nIiKsmqFSN0iyYvIKGuif9ikauj9sDxXFr9nqmodDGq47yyADFcNRVfAoukpq3IE5N5CPbPHATE9DExugc34gEC68eOITw5IZs_4e_KtkOzhRWPPmEuajTBD_uJjDyjAwJvUO/s400/IMG_0378.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Anyways, yesterday we went to a nice dinner at Trattoria ZaZa. It was delicious, and we went to bed at about 8 because of exhaustion, but the baby playing outside kept us up until about 9:30. We expected to wake up early this morning because we'd gone to sleep early, but I was the first one up at 10 am this morning. Oops! So much for the early start for sightseeing!<br />
<br />
My favorite part so far has been the Centrale Market. We went this morning and bought dried fruit, nuts, mozzarella cheese, wine, olive oil, bread and mushroom dip, and all at a good price for snacks, breakfast, and picnics.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQF9G4DygdGOr0B60hvuYvL1gcIyBT6mQHeWYowwPidZg3YdTb19CUcIAEZcUBCRibZ1bzOUAyPomfX0k39RKnW-9YYynmi_785Bd1q_sPPNgcdH17pzVc7a8G_mqn_x2J-1CYvJd56__L/s1600/IMG_0382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQF9G4DygdGOr0B60hvuYvL1gcIyBT6mQHeWYowwPidZg3YdTb19CUcIAEZcUBCRibZ1bzOUAyPomfX0k39RKnW-9YYynmi_785Bd1q_sPPNgcdH17pzVc7a8G_mqn_x2J-1CYvJd56__L/s400/IMG_0382.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Duomo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After that, we were off to do some hard core sightseeing. As I was totally engrossed in finding the Accademia so that we could see Michelangelo's David statue, I got hit by a woman on a bike. I didn't even see her coming until her handle bars whammed into my arms and her tire ran over my foot. A big crowd of people kind of gasped and a man asked if I was okay. It was a little embarrassing because everyone was looking at us. I'm pretty sure the woman on the bike was on drugs because she gave a completely blank stare and didn't say a word to me. We walked away and I couldn't believe she didn't say sorry. Plus, we never found the Accademia.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTrn59Z26ecI5pFFijMqHjlGxreKdsayz34CrcfqbzCAuGofjqv-08z_XrpWTjYk21rX7k-5HetO2YqnyKW-xHGnHApCmos_hJA1tcn57kS5GkoXXYzJ8fC02IecTaoK6J1aCUUOvcosP/s1600/IMG_0387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTrn59Z26ecI5pFFijMqHjlGxreKdsayz34CrcfqbzCAuGofjqv-08z_XrpWTjYk21rX7k-5HetO2YqnyKW-xHGnHApCmos_hJA1tcn57kS5GkoXXYzJ8fC02IecTaoK6J1aCUUOvcosP/s400/IMG_0387.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't know if you can see the tire marks across my toes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Then we went walking through all the other sights, including a cathedral where Mary and I had to put scarves on over our dresses to make them cover our knees to get into the church. Mary had to put two scarves on, one to cover her shoulders and one to cover her knees. The man at the entrance laughed at her.<br />
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Anyways, then we went walking down past the Uffizi museum, Piazza Signoria, and to the Ponte Vecchio bridge that was so cute. It is a bridge across the river with a bunch of shops on it. By that time we were so tired that we sat on the bridge for a while and then made the trek back to our hotel/apartment. We have a kitchen and living room in our apartment, so it's nice to keep drinks. As I sit here blogging, both Mary and Anne G are asleep. They were out in about 10 minutes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINV2p1OEXtpbZKNtICSCdHhAgHSEiPm2lrV4GnDPtjWfn9WM39Y0QvXnEFdkpHJIUI7qkCkWxaRE_o6xGGBaQaA-rv8t5llG6vX8xjz3H1ccjkSar0QmvuE5THRv5k0y4FI-Mv-7ZbQ9C/s1600/IMG_0380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINV2p1OEXtpbZKNtICSCdHhAgHSEiPm2lrV4GnDPtjWfn9WM39Y0QvXnEFdkpHJIUI7qkCkWxaRE_o6xGGBaQaA-rv8t5llG6vX8xjz3H1ccjkSar0QmvuE5THRv5k0y4FI-Mv-7ZbQ9C/s400/IMG_0380.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is for my grandmother, Dixie. <br />
It's funny to see "Dixie" in Florence!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">We're going to rest a while until our picnic tonight so that we can stay out past 8 pm! We want to be able to stay up for the sunset tonight.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-48572105241947205792011-06-13T10:21:00.000-04:002011-06-13T10:21:34.795-04:00Meredith, here we come!<div style="text-align: center;">I'm going to Italy TODAY... Can't believe this day has come after all hours of the planning for the trip. I never thought it would come! I'm so excited to go and to see Meredith! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm really nervous, of course, about the plane ride. I'm thinking of every worst case scenario. I feel like I need some kind of drugs or alcohol to relieve by anxiety but I'll be okay and I'm going to resist the urge (ha), and going to just take some sleeping medicine tonight on the plane so I'll get a good night's rest and wake up tomorrow ready to go in Italy. I'll be there tomorrow at about 10:30 am, and I will try to blog a few times about the trip. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hope y'all have a good week, and hope to update soon! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-41121411790164917002011-06-13T01:51:00.000-04:002011-06-13T01:51:27.771-04:00Mother/Father's Day!<div style="text-align: center;">In light of this being right between Mother's Day and Father's Day, and me leaving for a while and possibly not having time to write this post, I would like to dedicate it to my sweet parents. I have to say that I truly believe I have the best parents in the world. I know you might think that you have the best parents in the world, but it's not true, and you should probably be jealous.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7WvpkTY_u47UD7vvA2OETQgEaAKFhLn7oSXPx0zEpE1go6Bu173D05fEXftmJNcKTs_FOJ4hoSxUQdLfsDWg9OQXVVr3E0zSBwFz2Y_LkpRVLdXU2oDUXx-bnAskludXmGAhka9nuu9R/s1600/IMG_0993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7WvpkTY_u47UD7vvA2OETQgEaAKFhLn7oSXPx0zEpE1go6Bu173D05fEXftmJNcKTs_FOJ4hoSxUQdLfsDWg9OQXVVr3E0zSBwFz2Y_LkpRVLdXU2oDUXx-bnAskludXmGAhka9nuu9R/s400/IMG_0993.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well I'm just kidding. I know that my parents might not be the best for everyone </div><div style="text-align: center;">(but I still can't quite see who they wouldn't be good for). </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But really, I really do feel so blessed by them.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I had such a fun childhood... Fun times going to work with my Dad every day, going shopping every Saturday with Mom, helping Mom with house projects, and helping Dad raise the baby goats and sheep. Dad would sneak us down to the gas station to get king-size candy bars without Mom knowing. Mom would take us down to the inner city to hang out with some of her students that were our age. It was an odd childhood, yes, but it was so darn exciting! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My parents have taught me so much over the years. Only recently have I realized how much they have taught me. A lot of their philosophy, whether they know it or not, is to give us independence. They expected me to do things on my own, they never worried about me "making it places," they pretty much let me make my own decisions 95% of the time. They didn't really seem to worry about too much. They let us learn through trial and error sometimes, and we learned it better. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My parents never cared much/pressured us about grades growing up. They never had a strict schedule. Mom wanted me to have a decently clean room, but it wasn't the first priority on the list. We would sometimes (still do) decide a few days ahead of time to go on vacation. We weren't really concerned with the details, though we still had some basic structure in our lives. Overall, they taught us to go with the flow. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Growing up, we didn't always have a lot but we always had fun.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've never heard my parents fight. I never doubted that they might get divorced. It never even crossed my mind. They always seem to have the other's interests in mind. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">They have showed me how to be humble. They spend more time with people who the world views as"in need of help" than with people who can help them, though most of the time, they end up helping each other mutually. Some of their friends end up on the 5 o'clock news in a mug shot, and getting collect phone calls and letters from jail (usually to my Mom) is not odd around here. They have been taken advantage of so many times that people, including me sometimes, think they should have learned their lesson by now... But they keep giving people the benefit of the doubt, and it is an amazing picture of the way God loves us. "Love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres..." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My mom and dad show God's love through their relationships with the unloveable as well as the easily-lovable. I feel so blessed to have grown up with that unconditional love from them. I have never doubted their love for me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can't say that my parents are completely perfect, but I can say that I am confident that they love me and they have been such a great picture to me of God's unconditional love for me. I feel so blessed to have had my parents as parents. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Mother's and Father's Day, Mom and Dad! I love you two so much! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-23387563151689576172011-06-07T15:35:00.000-04:002011-06-07T15:35:34.002-04:00Poppy<div style="text-align: center;">I worked at Poppy today, just filling in for my sister since she is out of town.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> It wasn't too hard to learn what to do.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Anyways, it's the cutest store! If you would ever like to drop in and pick up some flowers to go, or have flowers delivered to the Chattanooga area, you should call this little store. It also has cute gifts like candles, cookbooks, and stationery. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnod9en0ovtXuuYvHvAVcHhO1Y5hamGZ4lHQgYendmQ76SQnbhEkt7_6fwY3z7lDdsq7NCRf2C3SJd-nxJXr2my_d_4SPDrofK9vuCCyCLiHtzORmeTqTyrnV-ug4ASu-zfe_DiYESqdB/s1600/IMG_0343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnod9en0ovtXuuYvHvAVcHhO1Y5hamGZ4lHQgYendmQ76SQnbhEkt7_6fwY3z7lDdsq7NCRf2C3SJd-nxJXr2my_d_4SPDrofK9vuCCyCLiHtzORmeTqTyrnV-ug4ASu-zfe_DiYESqdB/s320/IMG_0343.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cutest stationery- my favorite part.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEBHmeeUzzbD08s_bYr6NxUY6jutTetkiIBY14gt7PF4a3ztp3LINB8t-5fupNb1jgVqrYhFMgnby8kUzOEuxaJb6RT4GvQFJeD8fpzyduHM57accTEE1YmeOnl81BxZTjrt62Mi3Izmk/s1600/IMG_0348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEBHmeeUzzbD08s_bYr6NxUY6jutTetkiIBY14gt7PF4a3ztp3LINB8t-5fupNb1jgVqrYhFMgnby8kUzOEuxaJb6RT4GvQFJeD8fpzyduHM57accTEE1YmeOnl81BxZTjrt62Mi3Izmk/s320/IMG_0348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everything is adorable.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5coNQncYPzysCOUwWVTHTIrBm1z84Cvt4qADrDdxZ9MmrOcXnlHjto0lSaqijcdF2MacWU5crLqeFEB02YKBEutKP-3lQfN3Qgc_Qowsxs5cMwkh9opD286WrSmSeKA23c-Nrtm3HVoJ/s1600/IMG_0344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5coNQncYPzysCOUwWVTHTIrBm1z84Cvt4qADrDdxZ9MmrOcXnlHjto0lSaqijcdF2MacWU5crLqeFEB02YKBEutKP-3lQfN3Qgc_Qowsxs5cMwkh9opD286WrSmSeKA23c-Nrtm3HVoJ/s320/IMG_0344.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I have had lots of time today to be planning things to do in Italy and Barcelona. It's quite overwhelming, and I have less than a week to do it so I better get working again! Still open for any recommendations! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-64904538089217350272011-06-05T00:26:00.001-04:002011-06-05T00:27:50.977-04:00It's funny how I get out of school...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's funny how I get out of school and then think that I don't have time to blog. It should be the other way around. Anyways, I have been doing stuff even though I don't have an official job. This week I stayed in Atlanta for 3 days and babysat my cute cousin Shelby. I've been babysitting for another cute family too. They have 4 boys under 6 years old and they are all so cute and energetic! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Here are some pictures from babysitting that were on my phone:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDudqlAif4ilZ_qD3HPEspqCk0MdwB_vIkuJaQT1kXKxG1Z0KhIzacGCbOdmrQf-gvWor39usfvIVlQuQbz-HIJcto-6b8u5XzWN5nOluPYLHxQUbfhbkrqzW564ZS6QHVRnBJqLzyBQ8a/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDudqlAif4ilZ_qD3HPEspqCk0MdwB_vIkuJaQT1kXKxG1Z0KhIzacGCbOdmrQf-gvWor39usfvIVlQuQbz-HIJcto-6b8u5XzWN5nOluPYLHxQUbfhbkrqzW564ZS6QHVRnBJqLzyBQ8a/s400/IMG_0254.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute Shelby at the pool. It's all we did for 3 days.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxlWkzLpNnqKmuC3mQ5VkOL-G1EzKSEVyBC_-r642STejzekeK_WuBLGoQHlN7dt1fv7h_snqZ9mGpjYb7S9uZY5p4xLk0mLH5eBIGcGxpEaDyEZAD0JxPBjndrvOLKllVPO5wxC9UFfW/s1600/IMG_0243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxlWkzLpNnqKmuC3mQ5VkOL-G1EzKSEVyBC_-r642STejzekeK_WuBLGoQHlN7dt1fv7h_snqZ9mGpjYb7S9uZY5p4xLk0mLH5eBIGcGxpEaDyEZAD0JxPBjndrvOLKllVPO5wxC9UFfW/s400/IMG_0243.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable Tate, one of the four boys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BaJ2DB-d_NRz4OZ4FFRT8V0D7ou3vdsCZZFOXN7KvHlu9XLYDF1ywAMbJiIgWaY3tEjWa_emAbme62_max5-qM29UycfaYcgcYOpx30PKw9sr7So67GvH5qYJFD3Gx1C_4kE3QH4FsNW/s1600/IMG_0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BaJ2DB-d_NRz4OZ4FFRT8V0D7ou3vdsCZZFOXN7KvHlu9XLYDF1ywAMbJiIgWaY3tEjWa_emAbme62_max5-qM29UycfaYcgcYOpx30PKw9sr7So67GvH5qYJFD3Gx1C_4kE3QH4FsNW/s400/IMG_0232.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why do kids always have to get so close to the tv?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKuJUn9gy90DGsIqIyPv81raJi71hc4hBXft1JwI2LdSBaBRQJxbnM8aIZJl3MJVph5XmB7tnUUlFx9zwvbaLAipmTdX7pqXw9hRt2seYejTQzM0ccA3c0XPHQVvZ6AdA-bufXkqGP05l/s1600/IMG_0273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKuJUn9gy90DGsIqIyPv81raJi71hc4hBXft1JwI2LdSBaBRQJxbnM8aIZJl3MJVph5XmB7tnUUlFx9zwvbaLAipmTdX7pqXw9hRt2seYejTQzM0ccA3c0XPHQVvZ6AdA-bufXkqGP05l/s400/IMG_0273.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've really been missing Kaden! He has grown so!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyqkRH-LWwvnpTEQIBVItBGibhLC-e8dNJTA_kHvVONLZgFqYPunRARrNeA9dx2QFxyuw8k_zZZHvKw3J9vqnx1aYZHIyka4c7exidgnz6AjAK_c3fB0ALQtuL5fOS_ttkqeUR_lmkmDF/s1600/IMG_0284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyqkRH-LWwvnpTEQIBVItBGibhLC-e8dNJTA_kHvVONLZgFqYPunRARrNeA9dx2QFxyuw8k_zZZHvKw3J9vqnx1aYZHIyka4c7exidgnz6AjAK_c3fB0ALQtuL5fOS_ttkqeUR_lmkmDF/s400/IMG_0284.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And he's such a good crawler now!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had a fun Dugger family reunion today. We talked about my great-grandmother Glades, and I decided I like that name. Not that I need any baby names soon at all. Just saying I like it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anyways, I will be babysitting most nights this week and working at my cousin's store during the daytime and looking for a job and packing for Europe and then going to Nashville to see the Street family and coming home to do facepaint with Evangelical Children's Ministry and.... I'll pretty much be busy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And lastly, here are some very late pictures of formal and a few from Emily's wedding:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE39w8mID3xcE8BHKt5Yp2a7ieGta2y7YvE6k11o9G5LKtSV_C-UIlfXBWZXVmq-2ZB2NsFduA_N_suI-rMhs_DHBFQwQDoFbpMogn0LxW1X4Wo5FV8LP2YABP97c_BoFr2JxkPfloafZO/s1600/DSCN0337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE39w8mID3xcE8BHKt5Yp2a7ieGta2y7YvE6k11o9G5LKtSV_C-UIlfXBWZXVmq-2ZB2NsFduA_N_suI-rMhs_DHBFQwQDoFbpMogn0LxW1X4Wo5FV8LP2YABP97c_BoFr2JxkPfloafZO/s640/DSCN0337.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gav, Nat, and I before our last formal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTITl_jYXNWPquaSWzlEWbA8gEryZ19I0-sd4XS2_OXPyCwQCvqHu7n2gyzvwpYXUthLxPfbMLeQ3-Wz2xoc5hkgEyLUGyKWJ_n8hBw8xZRadC-awrQ5SuX2izZeyvqPafPNOwRWfDpIpV/s1600/DSCN0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTITl_jYXNWPquaSWzlEWbA8gEryZ19I0-sd4XS2_OXPyCwQCvqHu7n2gyzvwpYXUthLxPfbMLeQ3-Wz2xoc5hkgEyLUGyKWJ_n8hBw8xZRadC-awrQ5SuX2izZeyvqPafPNOwRWfDpIpV/s640/DSCN0338.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hot date at formal.<br />
(I only say that because he hates any kind of PDA.<br />
Not really <i>only</i>, I do think he is, but I wouldn't normally write that.<br />
Does that make sense?)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlp6zCBXhq4lc8KPTBgpdZQru78HGa5jZxkWCL0hU44OlA4utdtII_DAdgQHQyZpeICzEfkdqauOWNTqCj1zPtsDnoJOExktBeYS-fYz69MDuQDnLpFggnaeQXEYMbUnJATT80gPRODZb/s1600/DSCN0373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlp6zCBXhq4lc8KPTBgpdZQru78HGa5jZxkWCL0hU44OlA4utdtII_DAdgQHQyZpeICzEfkdqauOWNTqCj1zPtsDnoJOExktBeYS-fYz69MDuQDnLpFggnaeQXEYMbUnJATT80gPRODZb/s640/DSCN0373.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geoffrey, me, Adam and Gavin after formal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUY6SAtdEnIqrH8fBe7ab42P1B23CuQBuTm8s9ZWKa-xlfRKgq3jMA2-VGJo_c-dTfDbt55TyrKX3GqmNsBo-ITj06GkqIssQIx21OT65O-LVixy1X2_fc7vXTV4guvhdTNGFP9EGGDJz/s1600/DSCN0370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUY6SAtdEnIqrH8fBe7ab42P1B23CuQBuTm8s9ZWKa-xlfRKgq3jMA2-VGJo_c-dTfDbt55TyrKX3GqmNsBo-ITj06GkqIssQIx21OT65O-LVixy1X2_fc7vXTV4guvhdTNGFP9EGGDJz/s640/DSCN0370.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He likes to disrupt our pictures,<br />
only because he knows it gets on my nerves.<br />
This is why I put that caption on the other pic.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Vud_a6chvrf_oZdy3c55KjyhKUYO-hXMf4XexsoB4ZmlVl_3fD57k2SbIN5F83oOBSJGbGznS3BjQQBuAyS_xjhgZcY1yovAKP4PNvmk1k-apf-R005vh4Oq_7Gx_SvdIAE93R2RHOGR/s1600/DSCN0407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Vud_a6chvrf_oZdy3c55KjyhKUYO-hXMf4XexsoB4ZmlVl_3fD57k2SbIN5F83oOBSJGbGznS3BjQQBuAyS_xjhgZcY1yovAKP4PNvmk1k-apf-R005vh4Oq_7Gx_SvdIAE93R2RHOGR/s640/DSCN0407.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our one picture from Emily's wedding together. In the parking lot.<br />
At least we got one!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQkWaJ9kO2G_V72ajNXSAOG0qDmCGma7zlow4ScBah_w2byJVmRf9sb0ya23P0rdbEl71-aKv7EH7wRecoYuxfDJbHioTurzsDECo8tTaGe-hszIw90AzBrtyHNbKuDUog7pMKk4z9DOi/s1600/DSCN0412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQkWaJ9kO2G_V72ajNXSAOG0qDmCGma7zlow4ScBah_w2byJVmRf9sb0ya23P0rdbEl71-aKv7EH7wRecoYuxfDJbHioTurzsDECo8tTaGe-hszIw90AzBrtyHNbKuDUog7pMKk4z9DOi/s640/DSCN0412.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Natalie, Me, Emily W. and Gavin at the reception</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5SHHtVB75_4jH_9aQsczo4oCve3UkR6IQ30h0AZwt_uB0p9HHhlfB9griJXXV_RxFnWX0lejBLNUM1-25ZO1kyT4U_7-ZxtOamnLA8dWWHENLqvWjSkwuIjwo-SvsPqd9QMJE6e16_VuQ/s1600/DSCN0409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5SHHtVB75_4jH_9aQsczo4oCve3UkR6IQ30h0AZwt_uB0p9HHhlfB9griJXXV_RxFnWX0lejBLNUM1-25ZO1kyT4U_7-ZxtOamnLA8dWWHENLqvWjSkwuIjwo-SvsPqd9QMJE6e16_VuQ/s640/DSCN0409.JPG" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And lastly, but certainly not least, the beautiful bride and groom! </td></tr>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-11733129500112884522011-06-02T19:16:00.001-04:002011-06-02T19:19:08.894-04:00Then and Now<div style="text-align: center;">Then...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2P0y3ft_3F2y5KdDUuOEtV8TFn-zAdF7P-7UmKKzTaUY9bvq3Ny_uoAs2zjAq3yxQId2H726_VQaspu3pde-gQhm084BDJdl95rQHD4HUHiY-aDg09FM72Vq7rKb_KZjlUPmPdH27Sot/s1600/220480_1348137318901_1695362942_631853_1651688_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2P0y3ft_3F2y5KdDUuOEtV8TFn-zAdF7P-7UmKKzTaUY9bvq3Ny_uoAs2zjAq3yxQId2H726_VQaspu3pde-gQhm084BDJdl95rQHD4HUHiY-aDg09FM72Vq7rKb_KZjlUPmPdH27Sot/s640/220480_1348137318901_1695362942_631853_1651688_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And now...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sKKViAgVo6_yucPIaNBZh-gi8gxvo1htXqjv7dKxf0zoyWRgGZwGjcin7l3rkVXLGDAhmsp4DU3v6YS5wEpws4Ld05ybcX8CY0lM8vv8b_UNP4CYdQJypzFUxMj8s6Iup0qkkJN5d40w/s1600/226011_2048355371270_1316020337_2450307_5193419_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sKKViAgVo6_yucPIaNBZh-gi8gxvo1htXqjv7dKxf0zoyWRgGZwGjcin7l3rkVXLGDAhmsp4DU3v6YS5wEpws4Ld05ybcX8CY0lM8vv8b_UNP4CYdQJypzFUxMj8s6Iup0qkkJN5d40w/s640/226011_2048355371270_1316020337_2450307_5193419_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We've changed but we're still pretty much the same.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Still love my cousins!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-14202193231044219302011-05-26T16:50:00.000-04:002011-05-26T16:50:43.759-04:00JOBSI had my first job interview today. It wasn't really that bad! I kind of enjoyed it. Sorry I don't have a good embarrassing story for you there (but I'm really not sorry). I drove up to Knoxville at the crack of dawn this morning, had my interview for about 30 minutes and have been foot loose and fancy free the rest of the day. I'm making the foot loose and fancy free sound really good, but really, I pretty much did nothing because there wasn't anyone in Knoxville yet (flashback to last summer). Anyways, now I'm about to nap! Hard life.<br />
<br />
I have been very busy lately planning my trip to Italy and Barcelona to visit Meredith while she is studying abroad. My sweet parents gave me this trip as my graduation present and I am so excited! If anyone has suggestions for things to do, places to eat, and things to see in Rome, Florence, or Barcelona, please let me know. I want to know what to do!<br />
<br />
I have to say that it is odd being a college graduate without a job. I've never been in a place where I am not doing anything and don't have any plans for what's next. I could do anything, or nothing. I would like to do something! But for now, I'm just waiting and babysitting and trying to ask around for opportunities. If you know of any marketing, sales, human resources, or just any kind of business positions open, you could pass that along to me and I would greatly appreciate that. I'm up for anything that pays!<br />
<br />
By the way, I am so sad that Oprah is over. I will miss watching her at 4:00 every day. It was always exciting if I was home at 4 and actually remembered to turn the tv on. She always kept me entertained. I loved her last show and it made me miss her more than I would have! Am I weird?<br />
<br />
Anyways, for now, I will say, "Until we meet again," (like Oprah) and I'm going to take a nap during this storm. Hope to update more frequently through the rest of the summer!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-86083905141639939792011-05-07T13:19:00.000-04:002011-05-07T13:19:01.711-04:00The Simple Life<div style="text-align: center;">Life without a car is rather simple. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am content with staying at home a lot and walking places if I need something. Mary took the car home this weekend, so I am truly without a car, and surprisingly, it's rather freeing. I have a good excuse not to get things done. I can walk to CVS, the dry cleaners, Panera, Tuesday Mornings, and the bank, and that's exactly what I've done lately. I live in a good location for not having a car (unless I need to get to campus). Mary actually ran down the greenway that is close, and if I used that, it wouldn't be too far to campus if I really needed to walk--only about 2.5 miles! Mom also mentioned I could ride the public bus. I think I'd rather walk.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8HIfE4vWYVYr62CvIUIAd2KUaRLIxBX0U_nbjTZFc4Hl58vkaZga2DbfVmVzFUL-nBWa3pPXOx8mWZIw-tyso4iJ1gCUKkQTmjNFmRCrpaMZFZ7DNcwFjBN3RH8nBpt9Z4hTijeEIVRK/s1600/IMG_1425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8HIfE4vWYVYr62CvIUIAd2KUaRLIxBX0U_nbjTZFc4Hl58vkaZga2DbfVmVzFUL-nBWa3pPXOx8mWZIw-tyso4iJ1gCUKkQTmjNFmRCrpaMZFZ7DNcwFjBN3RH8nBpt9Z4hTijeEIVRK/s400/IMG_1425.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture this without all the people or the water. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">Every time I walk somewhere, I imagine that I am living in the old times before cars when people would walk to town to get things. It's all good in theory, but if you have a lot of things, it's a little bit harder. I had the bright idea to walk to the liquor store last night to get some boxes for moving, so I had to carry three big boxes all the way back. By the end, I didn't think it was such a bright idea. So, moral of the story is: when you walk to do errands, take a little red wagon along with you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cpjMUiTwkRnrpcwqpGdbnUWDOJJPHjSduhKlHTXanNByZfjSkTNlBwEJ4JUv97Jy0as2YQA9ghcw__dks4cbDNlEoy8GVXEubegJwXLyMzKnkWeDhhQdqxKlC0lv1fX6aRGJJyn_OmJd/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cpjMUiTwkRnrpcwqpGdbnUWDOJJPHjSduhKlHTXanNByZfjSkTNlBwEJ4JUv97Jy0as2YQA9ghcw__dks4cbDNlEoy8GVXEubegJwXLyMzKnkWeDhhQdqxKlC0lv1fX6aRGJJyn_OmJd/s320/Picture+4.png" width="297" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14162500432561074687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400591178704943687.post-25230520875719093412011-04-30T20:37:00.000-04:002011-04-30T20:37:27.138-04:00The storm<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">It's been a very long 72 hours. On Wednesday, I never expected that I'd still be dealing with the storm that I watched on the news from 4:00 to 9:30. My tizzy began at about 3:30 on Wednesday as I drove home from school listening to the radio tell me to "Take cover immediately!!" as I sat in traffic. From that moment forward, I was distressed. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I got home and was glued to the tv as I watched the green, purple, and white blobs move across the weather map towards me. I was a bit nervous you could say, as I told the girls that we needed to prepare the basement in case we needed it later (even though none of the storms all day had hit us yet). We decided that the corner under the kitchen would be best because it was surrounded by dirt walls and furthest away from big trees.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCoVFpXI9bV86vW8qZ9DPkXZWnqfRLuV9VaStQrckfDlyEwI8Pl0lnZLfAe1AX4czUR-xxxo7BJtolbq3KsKOyVQdrE4RLtYE3R5pCIO3Sozk9c7ofQq88q6pyfxgNLVuSeDs4P8dVTtk/s1600/IMG_0161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCoVFpXI9bV86vW8qZ9DPkXZWnqfRLuV9VaStQrckfDlyEwI8Pl0lnZLfAe1AX4czUR-xxxo7BJtolbq3KsKOyVQdrE4RLtYE3R5pCIO3Sozk9c7ofQq88q6pyfxgNLVuSeDs4P8dVTtk/s320/IMG_0161.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big storm that got us.</td></tr>
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I freaked a<s> little</s> lot. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I hate our basement. It is dirty and leaks and there are bugs everywhere. There is a bunch of junk down there and we pretty much avoid it at all costs. But that night, it was my best friend. I kept telling the girls, "It's not that bad! Let's go down there! It's exciting!" (I used every tactic I could to get them down there with me.) The scare tactic worked on Lindsey, and the exciting tactic worked on Mary. Laura was up for whatever. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">At 8:15, we turned the tv as loud as it could go and went to the basement for the storm. The hail was HUGE and incredibly loud. The wind was loud, and we huddled together on the<s> comfy </s>soaking wet blankets. I closed my eyes and had a pillow over my head. (Dramatic?) Anyways, we were okay, and we went back upstairs after it subsided to watch the news more. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Next storm was at about 8:45 and it looked terrible. I forced everyone into the basement onto our soaking wet, muddy blankets. We lit our candle and waited. It got really scary and we heard a loud boom that seemed to shake the floors, then our power went out. Mary said it was a tree but I said it couldn't be because it wasn't loud enough. We came out of the dungeon about 20 minutes later and I got mad at Mary for opening the front door (what if she got blown down by the wind?) until we saw THE tree. On HER car... and maybe my car. We stayed on the porch because I yelled at anyone who tried to step off in case of power lines that had popped. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORC_tIgKemvGPCMPk4xolDywJnTkLZas3bCRtsNRfrZk9tyvE5_HhuY0EZXYZ7BZXS_2Cwk05GuZm2X1oFkTvq_6bMUEaDRNBmA3rdps2Uc0OIC9F1XjcZR80fjnZg8n2vuTfgYHQDTo1/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORC_tIgKemvGPCMPk4xolDywJnTkLZas3bCRtsNRfrZk9tyvE5_HhuY0EZXYZ7BZXS_2Cwk05GuZm2X1oFkTvq_6bMUEaDRNBmA3rdps2Uc0OIC9F1XjcZR80fjnZg8n2vuTfgYHQDTo1/s640/IMG_0195.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The morning after as Delaney headed to class.</td></tr>
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">The tree was massive. And it took down two other large trees with it, along with the power lines. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">After that, I had kind of a what-do-we-do-now feeling. No power, no car, no tv for news. We called and told mom and dad. Dad jumped in the car and came up and I was not very happy about him driving through the storms that were still coming. I made us go into the basement a couple more times and we brought pretzels with us to make it more homey, and I took 3 advil for my sudden throbbing headache. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back window of Mary's car. The brake light fell off.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My poor car.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7_d8oKe9ieFpZZ9UMrtAzFYmJGt5hWeiEq0k77u2KN-wrZjlBC8KyVWbDn9hMsvJMRjFP6CHa44AIgEffieQ-9iezdaax_1kVQe3_mifvTxqdeFwleQAi8HzOqkbuPx-ErR71j0JOQh9/s1600/IMG_0187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7_d8oKe9ieFpZZ9UMrtAzFYmJGt5hWeiEq0k77u2KN-wrZjlBC8KyVWbDn9hMsvJMRjFP6CHa44AIgEffieQ-9iezdaax_1kVQe3_mifvTxqdeFwleQAi8HzOqkbuPx-ErR71j0JOQh9/s400/IMG_0187.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Dad assessed the damage and we discovered that the tree was more on my car than on Mary's, but both were damaged. The limbs were in hers, the trunk on mine. We went to sleep at 1:30 AM only to awaken at 5 AM to men's voices outside. The city workers came to clear the tree! (Yay!) Dad helped us move our cars away from the tree, and he drove Mary's home with no back window or sunroof... Or door knob. He got home, got a trailer and headed back up to get mine on a trailer :(. It made some freaky noises as we drove it onto the trailer. Dad drove away in Aunt Janie's truck, with my car on back, and I drove away in his massive, "Big bad truck," as we call it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw30tqLlA1WA4wF32kx7jADYSXKANExqtE1UFG04_uzDsRcXKwrdbZgi4Tng0MbaHKIHwf7xea5xJBMcU9CUxYWxk8rBQJsCTMbRc3q4MuOKPYeqaNHZhpaAmiN0W25lsHEb5mlqSzV_Rc/s1600/IMG_0191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw30tqLlA1WA4wF32kx7jADYSXKANExqtE1UFG04_uzDsRcXKwrdbZgi4Tng0MbaHKIHwf7xea5xJBMcU9CUxYWxk8rBQJsCTMbRc3q4MuOKPYeqaNHZhpaAmiN0W25lsHEb5mlqSzV_Rc/s400/IMG_0191.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye to my sweet, sorry car.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Mary and I have shared the truck ever since. We are very thankful for the truck, but we both talk about how nervous we get to drive it on these narrow, curvy roads. Plus, it has really good, very sensitive and slightly dangerous pick-up that can make you (Mary) end up in the middle of intersections when you were just trying to inch up to the line. (We almost 3 wrecked cars in one day.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Anyways, I have felt discombobulated for the past days since the event. I didn't realize how dependent I was on my car and electricity. I can't do anything without power. Being home alone without power is especially boring. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Today I have read the entire Wall Street Journal. I also stared at the wall for a while. Then the power workers showed up and (this might be weird) I watched them work on the lines. It's better than watching the wall.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">My car won't be fixed for a long time, or maybe never. We don't know if it's totaled or fixable. I liked that car a lot and I'd like to have it back, but either way will be okay. I'm glad because a car is replaceable. I just think it's nice to have a car at this point! And comparatively, it's nice to have a house and my health. So I'll be positive! It's much better that way. I have a lot to be thankful for....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Especially scenes like this in my front yard:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtij2YVCX-5UEe1-L8GbCq-Nl2Gs1Rj4HkHTq0PkqXb2dlq8Z6ZBnFR5gvSEzIxVN4U-M9lEVaXqWPfI_DWneslv4z1-pWP5jSjsce9_P10FY1YdmK7fiM3uXviYI8hMkNWjCYUkMbbmtr/s1600/IMG_0196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtij2YVCX-5UEe1-L8GbCq-Nl2Gs1Rj4HkHTq0PkqXb2dlq8Z6ZBnFR5gvSEzIxVN4U-M9lEVaXqWPfI_DWneslv4z1-pWP5jSjsce9_P10FY1YdmK7fiM3uXviYI8hMkNWjCYUkMbbmtr/s320/IMG_0196.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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