tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55516990772106219412024-02-07T18:49:08.673-06:00365 Beautiful ThingsI'm trying to find the beautiful things that surround me everyday.
Only... not that sappy.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.comBlogger189125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-48697680196973063002013-06-02T12:00:00.000-05:002013-06-02T12:00:18.121-05:00I'm BaaaaaaaaaaackWith a vengence? Probably not. By popular demand? Decidedly no. From the grave? Not that I'm aware of.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwQW_EYhjoI-kBekD1M-i2BEtHOIVMmaGnM52Lwkyo61sv_3N0rJfuQX4Hg7pl5n103JjbaqeZ0wbJwWskMXPXyhzvpJGuFkAM6vdnmNTjaE9ihlg3TYgWyiYYwZEzVonBMCZQBdT7P-J/s1600/June+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwQW_EYhjoI-kBekD1M-i2BEtHOIVMmaGnM52Lwkyo61sv_3N0rJfuQX4Hg7pl5n103JjbaqeZ0wbJwWskMXPXyhzvpJGuFkAM6vdnmNTjaE9ihlg3TYgWyiYYwZEzVonBMCZQBdT7P-J/s1600/June+02.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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All I know is that yesterday I woke up in the best mood I've been in in practically a year, and about a week ago I took a picture I'm really proud of, and I wanted to share it. <br />
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And there are others to come. <br />
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That is all.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-31461818191531299342012-07-10T10:38:00.000-05:002012-07-10T10:38:15.572-05:00And Indy Makes Three!Oh my god, you guys, I finally have a puppy!<br />
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Okay, so actually I don't yet... but I'm so much closer!<br />
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On Tuesday <strike>baby</strike> Puppy Indiana was born! I don't know which one he is yet, but my puppy is alive. He's full of love and cuddles and little puppy howls and sweetness and puppy kisses. And I still can't have him for two months.<br />
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Which doesn't sound like a super long time but in puppy time that's like a year and a half. <br />
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I think if I time it right I can just drive down there and steal him. They'll never notice right? HE'S TINY! They'll never miss him.<br />
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I'll keep him safe. I'll teach him to sniff. (I'm good at sniffing. I'm not good actually <i>smelling</i> things but I'm an excellent sniffer. I can't stop sniffing. Such is the life of someone who is allergic to... well, life. You get really good at sniffing.) I'll roll around and play with him and pretend to be a puppy. Just so long as I get to snuggle with my puppy afterwards. Puppies like snuggling right? Snuggling and sniffing and rolling around and playing? That's pretty just the jist of being a puppy?<br />
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I wonder if I can find him a little puppy fedora?<br />
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Ohhh, or a little golden idol chew toy. Maybe there's a set! Like a little grail too. (Someone did send me a link to a very disturbing, knit Hitler plushy the other day. Tremendously unsettling. Let's just say that Hitler is exceptionally untrustworthy even in knit form.) Oh I know, the third one could be a little blimp. That'd be cool. I can teach him the command "No Ticket" and he'll go get his little blimp and bark three times. While he's wearing his little hat. Maybe I can find him a little puppy bomber jacket too. Goddamn, I want this dog so bad.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzaw14Weqa1cWvpVYnW0vNnzWDJTCYx4NHWdhfUARdDbFqw_rSpiWdovsiDLb_zK9P-700MlCKFqFforS_LVJck95I8h8rrDR5NhAAyXy27M5SJfpRarJwsozFZf6l0xPxAqsrmkU_ZCR/s1600/Indy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzaw14Weqa1cWvpVYnW0vNnzWDJTCYx4NHWdhfUARdDbFqw_rSpiWdovsiDLb_zK9P-700MlCKFqFforS_LVJck95I8h8rrDR5NhAAyXy27M5SJfpRarJwsozFZf6l0xPxAqsrmkU_ZCR/s320/Indy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dr. Jones! (He got his PhD in being a puppy!)</span></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-14246940944393017092012-07-05T19:46:00.000-05:002012-07-05T20:21:48.358-05:00This Application Goes To Eleven<span style="color: #999999;">I recently had an experience where I applied for a job online that involved eleven different, independent steps to complete the application. This is after you had to create your initial profile with a bunch of the same information to begin with.<br /><br />Seriously, dudes... <br /><br />I fully understand and accept your need to know all of these things about me that are clearly stated on my resume separately from my resume despite the fact that I am also sending you my resume because... <br /><br />Okay so I don't understand your need for this, exactly. But I do accept it and that is actually the important part I think. Seriously though I'm giving you all of this information no less that two times and you've still got eleven steps for me? Eleven? You really couldn't have combined any of these things together? Perhaps the personal information and the personal preferences could have been on the same page? I don't know... maybe the work history and the education history could have been combined? See how those things had similar words in their descriptions? Usually a good hint that they can be combined together.<br /><br />I'm only making these suggestions as someone who's done this... a lot. And kind of has done this for a living... twice. It's cool though. There's really no reason to pay me any mind. Keep annoying the shit out of your applicants. It's actually a really solid way to weed out people who are only semi interested in working for you. Really only keeps people like me who seriously want a new job in mix. That's fair. Still, you're way annoying.<br /><br />Le Sigh...<br /><br />More old pictures. This time of a fancy fountain we saw on a trip looking for wedding venues (way back in the day now.) Water and light and movement and all that though. Waaaaaaay better than just repeating the same five pieces of information over and over and over again. Holy smokes.</span><br /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3aAndrWqzV7SLClQbpl_rJve-EekFL9gBXSG_K7OzjNDymuRCxQcB4zr_tJAMXjYWqh5LK0BEubtp12G_PnSpI5iDbbp8s7KSrNQI5bNUHvomevxr5s7oUk6liemJHyzLCD13m9dq2yX/s1600/DSCN5549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3aAndrWqzV7SLClQbpl_rJve-EekFL9gBXSG_K7OzjNDymuRCxQcB4zr_tJAMXjYWqh5LK0BEubtp12G_PnSpI5iDbbp8s7KSrNQI5bNUHvomevxr5s7oUk6liemJHyzLCD13m9dq2yX/s320/DSCN5549.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">ohhhh, light <i>under </i>the water </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3pbOhVu7Zu2Y6tQgZLd1MuRwZU74_mq28P1l3PqKdVecPqc4HKm3zovWXeZ-vkdWaTRld1781dc33MIASc6BFlCYXaMLwXnRnGcOg4oMY71fPFG-MZczghdR1C3vIz8TrDHpZnH8GymS/s1600/DSCN5550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3pbOhVu7Zu2Y6tQgZLd1MuRwZU74_mq28P1l3PqKdVecPqc4HKm3zovWXeZ-vkdWaTRld1781dc33MIASc6BFlCYXaMLwXnRnGcOg4oMY71fPFG-MZczghdR1C3vIz8TrDHpZnH8GymS/s320/DSCN5550.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And walls of water</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6_YqUWo9HNf-_Hbr0KXkjc3XO7mLDyGxvOQC164cMunuzf1abznJl_jqoGAtUqyAsP8IRFfMFhpkalC_pDqJB-JlSIbmvokylSsHFb77GJ1WHEmuBB5vR3f7G9GVp28EkqSCIyKG8tm5/s1600/DSCN5551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6_YqUWo9HNf-_Hbr0KXkjc3XO7mLDyGxvOQC164cMunuzf1abznJl_jqoGAtUqyAsP8IRFfMFhpkalC_pDqJB-JlSIbmvokylSsHFb77GJ1WHEmuBB5vR3f7G9GVp28EkqSCIyKG8tm5/s320/DSCN5551.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And, uh... well, uh... inappropriate spurtings of curiously white-looking water</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgur7m24d780Jync-DEVHax4R8drVS1mp_76SDa8e7Wln1WPzNxonowSBwjWqrgS7PK4zeo-4WZANCscYoW6sx-31j-F7Pume6jaTXU9fxkQiIOQS2lt4odNEsetLVfkiIOjaoXSe1aZfrO/s1600/DSCN5554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgur7m24d780Jync-DEVHax4R8drVS1mp_76SDa8e7Wln1WPzNxonowSBwjWqrgS7PK4zeo-4WZANCscYoW6sx-31j-F7Pume6jaTXU9fxkQiIOQS2lt4odNEsetLVfkiIOjaoXSe1aZfrO/s320/DSCN5554.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">It looks like there's a secret world hidden back there - like Narnia, only damper</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNOy4NihEYSjn_cf7OFjpVQQ9NlPHskmN6xlsHYXLz4xyTv_6Ba0leZu90eboYy-W5dr-yBA15wQj6BbE72cFpEyekkfr0WbH3o_V-GtQARMrJDC_pXAy7MEZ-iJ9iIxZi0zTMBU1_oGG/s1600/DSCN5558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNOy4NihEYSjn_cf7OFjpVQQ9NlPHskmN6xlsHYXLz4xyTv_6Ba0leZu90eboYy-W5dr-yBA15wQj6BbE72cFpEyekkfr0WbH3o_V-GtQARMrJDC_pXAy7MEZ-iJ9iIxZi0zTMBU1_oGG/s320/DSCN5558.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hm, there's those spurts again... Rainbow Toe is right - I do have a guttermind.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHEBXZ8lWEuhV4wVdUFqwBrMida39QVMNNSC3a4FKb6c9WXjfVDB4DdLA5Oq31opT6C00rK-AeiR2k31cp-o_3KvnyaL2xV1x3Hmj_hS4J2I3ZznHOEHv0IdkjVs7kigjHi4frnnFLBT9/s1600/DSCN5559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHEBXZ8lWEuhV4wVdUFqwBrMida39QVMNNSC3a4FKb6c9WXjfVDB4DdLA5Oq31opT6C00rK-AeiR2k31cp-o_3KvnyaL2xV1x3Hmj_hS4J2I3ZznHOEHv0IdkjVs7kigjHi4frnnFLBT9/s320/DSCN5559.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">On the other hand, if you're looking for a photo focusing on a few droplets of water - I'm your girl.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUKN7LL_ET2tMPz_dDDgnMs8aqG-9iitDa0D_CA7zjRnTS-AhCv1TLoN7QOZ8Ou2AgK3ob8sPCttzZjG3bXWn4IE5UCvOVVXD7NLyMQg8bsNAFZ8LsNlIKl-3PgTsh3NXj1veThtBtisY/s1600/DSCN5560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUKN7LL_ET2tMPz_dDDgnMs8aqG-9iitDa0D_CA7zjRnTS-AhCv1TLoN7QOZ8Ou2AgK3ob8sPCttzZjG3bXWn4IE5UCvOVVXD7NLyMQg8bsNAFZ8LsNlIKl-3PgTsh3NXj1veThtBtisY/s320/DSCN5560.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Abstraction - that's where I excel. That and apparently photo captions. It's a skill.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-85972636073242794242012-07-04T11:09:00.000-05:002012-07-04T11:10:08.973-05:00'Splosions!If you know me at all, you know I freaking <i>love</i> the 4th of July. It's such a wonderful holiday. I could spout off a bunch of founding fathers stuff and yay America and whatnot. It would probably ring false and/or sarcastic though. Probably because I would be at least partially sarcastic about it. I love my country very much, but I think I'm pretty realistic about it - we're messed up in a lot ways. If you haven't watched Newsroom yet, you really should. Sorkin, man, he'll get you riled up. This might be one of his best speeches ever. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FKklog0T9a4" width="560"></iframe><br />
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So even that last half it rosy colored glasses in my opinion, but it was at least better. And I get the point. It's not anymore, but it could be again.<br />
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All the same though, I love the 4th of July. BBQ's, chilling outside with friends and/or family all day, then watching people blow shit up. It's a great holiday. It's brilliant.<br />
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So last night we went and literally got on a train to fireworks town. No seriously. After work we headed to Osceola, Wisconsin, boarded a train, rode for about an hour, took a short bus ride and arrived in Marine, Minnesota for fireworks basically on Main Street. Which were pretty much right over our heads. Like, bits of firework falling on us, right over our heads. Pretty awesome. It was a great time. Really the only thing that kind of sucked was that the air temperature was roughly that of the surface of the sun. Holy fuck it's hot out. So incredibly out.<br />
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Then we took a bus back to train back to Osceola and drove home. Which is to say, we had a great night but didn't get home until really late and I haven't even looked at my pictures yet.<br />
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So here are some pictures from Lake Superior quite awhile ago. (Thus the old signature.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuk4VuUMpNM-Xh8VhFv7Jdy1ZQz6B_Iquho4frYosYHNOF80Yyo58LHXyr0CrXQKE6za-DAN_lPBwa19qUnEpg7yPbGXhWihJGezpGi_IXHjuulHBa4EDlWF1PFfWWUJ2bOR6M_j7FDNb1/s1600/DSCN5586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuk4VuUMpNM-Xh8VhFv7Jdy1ZQz6B_Iquho4frYosYHNOF80Yyo58LHXyr0CrXQKE6za-DAN_lPBwa19qUnEpg7yPbGXhWihJGezpGi_IXHjuulHBa4EDlWF1PFfWWUJ2bOR6M_j7FDNb1/s320/DSCN5586.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">doesn't that look inviting?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUAEnhofRzD51JFp7lHws4Xk6p7T_m9GqecihGZZa6mvNYtRjGPFdJcGJ9n51sX5eZBke4cEXD2NEZ2WzUi7SPXbVrBS_YkYbpwKGMOf4YojWxMF04K7_hhcy6yHsrlhWTgrNJ3rd7GeE/s1600/DSCN5575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUAEnhofRzD51JFp7lHws4Xk6p7T_m9GqecihGZZa6mvNYtRjGPFdJcGJ9n51sX5eZBke4cEXD2NEZ2WzUi7SPXbVrBS_YkYbpwKGMOf4YojWxMF04K7_hhcy6yHsrlhWTgrNJ3rd7GeE/s320/DSCN5575.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Don't you want to go sit there next to the lake?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3G6stCicCkSD0ZUCTVkB9I1DalfC5l16ktKvoqIjjujb8S39fnFRI-XR0TLSAwywQVaCbdmmRiQp_D4_yiZsJETLLigz-DxS0fyGdXYLBTvIc_MWu8gbSAxGTKMdam3dcOjhyZlvyee9/s1600/DSCN5577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3G6stCicCkSD0ZUCTVkB9I1DalfC5l16ktKvoqIjjujb8S39fnFRI-XR0TLSAwywQVaCbdmmRiQp_D4_yiZsJETLLigz-DxS0fyGdXYLBTvIc_MWu8gbSAxGTKMdam3dcOjhyZlvyee9/s320/DSCN5577.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Aaaand pile some rocks on the arm of your chair in a... neat looking way?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Happy Fourth of July, Y'all!</span></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-19600626009325108352012-07-02T14:00:00.000-05:002012-07-02T14:00:03.252-05:00Gots Me A Freak Flag - Gonna Fly ItFAIR WARNING: If you are in any way my parent, parent-in-law... okay so if you're someone who is related to me and more than roughly... let's say 15 years older than me, you should not read further. Shit's about to get weird. What's about to go down - you don't want to read, I can all but guarantee it. Uh, yeah. Just... just stop. Go elsewhere. Read other stuff. Read a book. Read Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. You'll probably like it better than this. this is going to be inappropriate and unladylike and wrong and bad. And if you have a high opinion of me in any way this is just going to smash it all to pieces so seriously - I'm not playing with you; turn away. This is the opposite of the 'send the kiddies out the room, stuff's about to get real' warning. This is 'adults who know me personally, click a different link my warped is about to show' warning. Though in fairness you should probably send the kiddies away too.<br />
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Okay? Are we all agreed? If you're reading this far you've decided that you can deal with the fact that I'm REALLY, REALLY weird and messed up and if you can't deal with that it's your own fault and, dude, I warned you? So seriously, if you read further and get weirded out please don't mention this to me in person because, I'm not kidding, I will forget how to speak. Because I am also super socially awkward. But I'm not kidding. This is completely whacked out. If you are one of my parents or one of my parents-in-law or something like that please, please do not read this. Or if you do please don't talk to me about it. Ever. Just look at these pretty cool pictures I took of some glasses a while ago and, by no means, hit the jump. ever.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5fQ7z_NTW-G6ppTDOh34MEQrDsqyBEOYSEJe5gRbjsHYmT3fB62lXQpZZAleyx5GzRe4_pI2dLP7WVIwFgU1jKLXcPe2nqIhLPSceXwKIRf63MbbQxp-hpjfRZOvrGGANc4-Jjrohcys/s1600/July+2-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5fQ7z_NTW-G6ppTDOh34MEQrDsqyBEOYSEJe5gRbjsHYmT3fB62lXQpZZAleyx5GzRe4_pI2dLP7WVIwFgU1jKLXcPe2nqIhLPSceXwKIRf63MbbQxp-hpjfRZOvrGGANc4-Jjrohcys/s320/July+2-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">See! Cool glasses right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pretty, pretty glasses</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOOvnVf-xD8z-ceMUkAHZRTG_v35kMs3yVHDiK6BdpzdIPV_IDcl_HH9QoacizaRORrt4qZDO8Owr_3ybiKKGUVQi_GktNr9WJlvCqhDfLByxgaF8OJvKi4lLT37m0RUslQEAcfzk_C3A/s1600/July+2-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOOvnVf-xD8z-ceMUkAHZRTG_v35kMs3yVHDiK6BdpzdIPV_IDcl_HH9QoacizaRORrt4qZDO8Owr_3ybiKKGUVQi_GktNr9WJlvCqhDfLByxgaF8OJvKi4lLT37m0RUslQEAcfzk_C3A/s320/July+2-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This is what you should assume this <i>this</i> whole post is about. Nothing weird happening here at all.</span></div>
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Okay so a few days ago there was a hot pink dildo in the middle of the road next to the stop sign by my house. <br />
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And alright. I go to work at like 7:30 in the morning so as I was driving toward it, sure, my first thought was, "wha... is there a goddamn dildo in my road?" (Because: 1) my potty mouth is actually a lot worse in my own head and 2) I strongly believe in Occum's Razor - so obviously dildo in the road was the most obvious explanation and, therefore, the first place my head went. Even at 7:30 in the morning on a Wednesday.) But as I got a wee bit closer I start thinking to myself, "now be rational. You're not in St. Paul anymore. This is the suburbs, man. It's probably... a giant stick of chalk. ... Or something. Yeah... chalk. That's it. That... makes sense." <br />
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But no. I roll up on that stop sign. And indeed. There was a mother fucking, hot pink dildo laying in the middle of my street on a random Wednesday morning <br />
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Seriously... who just throws their dildo in the road? That's just rude. And... wasteful. And confusing. Plus it's littering. <br />
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I mean... I guess it was garbage day. Still, there are bins and stuff there, neighbors. I mean, if it was <i>meant</i> for the garbage, that's what those bins are there for - exactly that purpose. For putting garbage in 'em. Or dildos you apparently feel like throwing in the street. That's what we call an either/or situation right there. You know "we" in the biz. The biz of finding dildos in the street. Or the biz of throwing garbage away. I'm really not sure which. Maybe both. That might be another either/or situation actually. I am actually in both those bizes now - thanks to you - so I can probably tell. I'm what you'd call an authority. <br />
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So look - I really love where I live now but I do feel the need to point out that this never happened to me when I lived IN the city. I had to move to the suburbs to find sex toys in the street. I lived in a literal<i>, </i>goddamn slum and I never saw a dildo in the street. Though I guess that might just be because either 1) no one could afford dildos or 2) no one could afford to throw them out. ...Yeesh<br />
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I feel like it's about an hour after The Stepford Wives or Pleasantville ended and I just stepped into the plots. The revolutions have happened and now they've just run goddamn wild. Dildos in the street and God knows what inside peoples' houses. Mescaline and baby Jesus butt plugs and HST-esque benders, I can only imagine. It makes my brain hurt. I see these people walking their dogs for Christ's sake. <br />
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Anyway - as I'm sure you can tell, ruminating on finding a dildo in the road makes me a little... crazy. But at the time I think I took it pretty well. I pretty much just assumed that it was simply an omen that it was going to be a weird day.<br />
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Little did I know. Little did I know.<br />
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That is to say - that one <i>day</i> didn't get super, overly weird. For me. Comparatively. But, uh, it's like - man, something in my brain just up and snapped. Like that whole center of my head just went, "okay, well, if no one else is even trying anymore, I'm just going to stop then. Seriously." And just... BAM. Freak flag is OUT, y'all. <br />
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Just like... my head don't work right. And - okay, it never has. But I've spend most of my life trying to hide that. Because I was under the impression that heads are <i>supposed </i>to work right. But seriously, it's <i>all</i> kinds of messed up in there. And I <i>likes</i> it. It's weird and warped and strange and fun and silly and wrong and so completely right and ridiculous all at the same time. And man, it's kind of cool. You know, to me. Probably still not to other people. Certainly not <i>en masse. </i>But to me. And I get that probably 28 isn't the <i>super </i>best time to figure that out. And, certainly, a pink dildo in the middle of the road seems like the absolute worst instigation for an epiphany EVER. Like I'm seriously going to have to think up a good lie about this. So I can actually talk about it to anyone at any point in time. But... my God, it's really nice to think to myself, "Jesus, you're fucked up" and not think that's bad. I've thought that a quite a few times in the last few days and followed it with "in just the best way." That's... really weird if you're me. really weird. And great.<br />
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<br />Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-43774749918579085312012-07-01T14:06:00.000-05:002012-07-01T14:09:37.663-05:00It's All Rainbows and Unicorn Farts Up In Here<b id="internal-source-marker_0.8446519651915878" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s this terrific quote from the movie Untamed Heart where Marisa Tomei’s (my husband’s movie wife) character says: “He doesn’t make sense, I don’t make sense, together we make sense.”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a story about my friends. And how we remind me of that quote. Well, sort of.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few weeks ago a friend of mine tripped over a dog toy on her steps and broke a toe. It was a pretty big bummer, as breaking a toe always is. There’s just really nothing good about breaking a toe. Except for when hilarity ensues... </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A day or two later I sent an email to her a couple other friends:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jesus christ it's cold in here today. (Insert: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">it’s always super cold in my office, but it was especially cold that day due to clients being in the conference room so we needed to pump the air conditioning so they wouldn’t melt. Yeah, our h-vac systems aren’t... the best.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">) But there was a rainbow outside my window for a little while. which made me happy for a little while. Then it went away so I'm crabby again.”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She then replied:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“In other news, my butt still hurts (from falling down the steps yesterday, gutterminds) but my toe is all swelled up like a snausage and is interesting shades of black and purple. Neat!</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yay, rainbows!”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But see, I’m sort of a dumbass. Especially in the morning. So...</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“By the time I read this I had forgotten about the actual rainbow, so I thought you were referring to your foot. So it seemed like your opinion about the swelling and bruising changed drastically and very quickly. Then I was all ‘no that can't be right... Well, I know she has no problem with gay people. though I don't know why she'd feel the need to mention it right now. and in a really weird way...’ Then I mentally smacked myself in the forehead and said to myself ‘dude! the ACTUAL rainbow you just told them about. Jeeze.’</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So - for the record that's about how well my brain works today. I'm sorry your butt hurts and your toe's all big and colorful (in a not-flamboyant way)” </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And thus from that, somehow, “Yay, rainbows!” became both a personal mantra and a mantra for that group of friends.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Yay, rainbows! In this case plastic wrapped rainbows. I thought it was cool)</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Several days later:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me: “I found some lip balm on etsy this morning called Unicorn Farts. I’ve decided I'm going to get some. I just can't decide if I'm just going to get just one for me or if I should get a lot and give them to... pretty much everyone I know. Because it's lip balm scented like Unicorn Farts. So it's pretty much the greatest thing ever and how can you not share that? But on the other hand you could also have a signature unicorn fart scented lip balm that everyone else would be jealous of. And be all like ‘ohhh, I love your lip balm what is it?’ and you'd be all ‘oh it's no big deal, it's just the smell of unicorn farts. it's kind of my thing.’ and they would all sit in awe of you and ask to borrow your lip balm all the time. But really that's just the reaction you'd want from the bitches you don't like, right? With your friends and loved ones you'd want to be all like ‘ladies, ladies, ladies - I bring the glory of Unicorn Fart lip balm. Bask in its greatness.’ And they would (continue to) love you forever because you're both awesome and thoughtful and the kind of person who shares cool things like Unicorn Fart lip balm. Furthermore I can't imagine having this and not at least giving some to my nieces.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Long story short:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1) I finished the Bloggess' book yesterday (not sure if you can tell or not)</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2) So next time I see you, I'll have at least one book to give you. And probably lip balm</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3) I really, really like typing/saying Unicorn Fart(s)</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4) Christ, I really hope you thought that was funny or you guys are actually going to have me committed this time. fuck.”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To which Broken Toe* replied:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Unicorn Farts has officially made me register on Etsy. Dammit...I was avoiding it on purpose (BUY ALL THE THINGS!). I can't avoid this..”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I said:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh dude, you're toast. Etsy is like crack for people like us. Really, really good crack. Take my advice and don't sign up for the daily email. It will show you really awesome stuff every day. and you'll want to buy it. it's like the free sample the dealer gives you only they give it to you every. single. day. And unless you just delete it without looking at it... there are just so many cool things. And they send you pictures of such cool things. and if you click on those pictures they'll just send you to a page that says ‘oh hey you thought that was cool? Let us show ALL THESE OTHER TOTALLY COOL THINGS LIKE IT THAT YOU'LL COMPULSIVELY FEEL THE NEED TO BUY NOW BECAUSE WE ARE TOTALLY THE BEST CRACK DEALERS IN TOWN.’ That's Etsy in a nutshell. I am sorry that Unicorn Farts has brought this upon you. However you must keep in mind that you got Unicorn Farts out of the deal. So really... fair's fair. Unicorn Farts.”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The theme of Etsy as crack continued and... digressed for much of the day and eventually another friend, let’s call him... The Bird** in the conversation (who is busier than the rest of us during the day and only occasionally pops in) said:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wait, you guys are drug dealers? I'm not good at the email thread thing. Meh.” </span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I casually explained:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well... Rainbow Toe is a dealer. And Etsy is a master dealer. And depending on how you feel about Unicorn Farts... I'm looking to get into the game and may start distributing to 8-year-olds... So yes, you are correct, sir. Magic Hat*** seems pretty in the clear though. Though he usually has several deals going down with various people on his team. Something I can only assume will continue once So-And-So joins. (Damn hippies and their drugs.)”</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Uh, so I don't have a picture of unicorns. Or their farts. Oh wait...</span></b><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Same thing! Yay, rainbows! And Unicorn farts!</span></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So here’s what I mean:</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m weird. They’re weird. Together we’re... REALLY weird. It’s FANTASTIC.</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are only a handful of people in the world that I can be absolutely, completely and entirely absurd with. Most of them are either married to me or very closely related to me (i.e. they were involved in my conception or are my older brother.) It’s totally insane that I met those three people in one of my least favorite places. But maybe that makes sense too, because I don’t think they like that place much either. But the shared experience gave us something to talk about, and to joke about. And that gave us the opportunity to learn that we’re all pretty damn warped, but in a lot of the same ways. </span></b><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yay, rainbows!</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unicorn farts!</span></span><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*Probably how I’ll refer to her forever now... can’t say for sure though</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">**Not his real name</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***Ha, finally! Been working on that one for WEEKS!</span></b>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-72809422730945910742012-05-08T21:24:00.000-05:002012-05-08T21:24:30.207-05:00Firsts For EverythingIt's so strange to have firsts again. After five years together you tend to get pretty used to somebody and when that includes 4+ years of living together, moving together a couple of times and planning a wedding together... you maybe start to think all your firsts are gone.<br />
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All you people who have been married for decades can just quit your damn laughing right now, I'm trying to be sincere over here.<br />
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Seriously though - we had our first kiss before we started dating (whoops.) Our first date was so long ago we don't always agree on what movie we saw anymore (Fracture.) We moved in together... four and a half years ago. We got over the whole 'we have bodily functions' thing quite a while ago. We've moved together... four times now? There are a lot of great things about knowing someone that well. You have jokes that only two people in the world get. You can have pretend fights over a car arm rest and know what it means. You have a nook to fall asleep in. You can be called Puddles and not find it offensive. You can listen to the man you love tell you that he's going to go drop a deuce and really not even flinch at it. You can exist in the knowledge that he's going to be so pissed at you for writing that sentence on your blog. But that he'll get over it. (Right, hunny?) You can know that buying a new couch is probably going to involve sitting on every couch in the metro area. You can rest assured that unless you find something totally awesome and/or funny - you'll never have to have anything heart-shaped in your house. You can <i>really</i> make the other person super angry in no time flat on purpose. Just a few well placed words, a couple of dishes here and there, hell a towel left in the right place and you can have your partner <i>fuming. </i>And sometimes you want that. It's super fucking weird - but you do. You want to pick a fight. And you don't want to pick it with anyone else. You've come to the bizarre decision that having a huge fight with the person you live with, the person you love, the person who means the world to you, that you cannot live without; is the best possible decision you can make at the time. Truly it probably is the best decision you can make because you <i>also </i>know how to make them forgive you in no time flat. With a word, a look, flowers bought for the first time in years, a note left in just the right place. With that special kind of torture that only redheads know how to do.<br />
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Knowing someone well enough to marry them has it's perks, it really does. Well beyond joint taxes and lower car insurance rates.<br />
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And yet... My husband and I went on our first walk as a married couple the other day. We held hands and walked down the street to the park by our house. <br />
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We pointed at puppies and pretty flowers together. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzx9eiKcAfyAuueoRdPln9d6whDg938mUL1lmJwB2Bzpx36sWpnUIuuXofKoQTRJ3p_-Te4gDs4YNOOHmRsYYUeKcWPOtkP25BPg6eW3aj6I8-8gvFzQR3CiW19f8u-OP5JA7KJMZ4n6U/s1600/May+8-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzx9eiKcAfyAuueoRdPln9d6whDg938mUL1lmJwB2Bzpx36sWpnUIuuXofKoQTRJ3p_-Te4gDs4YNOOHmRsYYUeKcWPOtkP25BPg6eW3aj6I8-8gvFzQR3CiW19f8u-OP5JA7KJMZ4n6U/s320/May+8-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We stopped as I took pictures. <br />
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We hip checked each other as we walked down the path in the woods. <br />
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We made fun of one another. Because we're both dorks, and really like pointing that out to one another.<br />
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We've probably gone on a thousand walks together. We've done all those things before. We've probably spent weeks of our lives holding hands. We now have a running count (if you knew how I mistyped that, you'd be laughing) of who has pointed out more <i>trains</i> to the other, let alone the most puppies or flowers. He is a man who has probably lost count of the number of hobbies he tolerates in me, thus I doubt he hardly notices stopping for pictures anymore. And to try to even describe how used we are to making fun of one another is just impossible. I can't separate it from our normal conversations, from our day-to-day interactions, from our passing one another while we're getting dressed in the morning. It is so ingrained into our relationship that it would be weird if he <i>weren't</i> making fun of me.<br />
<br />
But this walk, this one in one thousand, this was special. Because I can't help but know that it's the first time that we took a walk as husband and wife. For as little as that dumb, pointless piece of paper means to us at the end of the day it's still this giant deal. He still has to do a tremendous amount of paperwork if he wants to leave me now. I still can't help but notice that holding his hand feels a little different with a wedding ring on it. And I can't help but want to walk on his left side - so that I can notice it. I can't help but look at him and know that we'll go on thousands and thousands of more walks and he'll hold my hand. And we'll stop as I take pictures, and we'll point out puppies and pretty flowers (and trains) to one another. And we'll hip check each other as we walk in the woods or along the sidewalk. And we'll make fun of each other. Because we're giant dorks. And we really like pointing that out to one another.<br />
<br />
And for all those thousands and thousands of times he'll be my husband. That sentence makes me happier than I can say. It warms my grinchy heart and all those good things. But this walk was special. It was like a first date, really. Only better. Because I know all those other things already. Like where my nook is, and how to make him angry, and that Puddles is actually very cute, and that we both poo and that's okay, and that redheads are the best (obviously), and what movie we saw on our first date, and that we're going to have to sit on all of them before we buy a couch. He's my Steve. And that's greatest. <br />
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But just after that is that we just got married. So we do still have a few good firsts left in us yet.<br />
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<br />Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0St Paul, MN 55122, USA44.8149747 -93.208099144.7699182 -93.2870631 44.8600312 -93.1291351tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-16474077479685959032012-02-07T20:11:00.000-06:002012-02-07T20:11:23.553-06:00Early February Blues Be GoneToday.... oh, today was a very stupid day. Seriously, what was with today today? Dumb. So very, very dumb.<br />
<br />
So when I got home today I was in the mood for a little bit of whimsy.<br />
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So<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1_Sm1AuYeP5vgYrBcgzCJAnQbkVI5enVcmk3P-8lyCdscm5tE2zY0SlFfEbaXuIIkoPq2ypKyLRXRah8YVU_QhP_OYezZd6yBhcPQ8qQeNpFhvTfGWiuyGUK5BlqpqeCD0dxhzFoL7ag/s1600/Feb+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1_Sm1AuYeP5vgYrBcgzCJAnQbkVI5enVcmk3P-8lyCdscm5tE2zY0SlFfEbaXuIIkoPq2ypKyLRXRah8YVU_QhP_OYezZd6yBhcPQ8qQeNpFhvTfGWiuyGUK5BlqpqeCD0dxhzFoL7ag/s320/Feb+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Bubbles!</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/AVvXsEg8dToY0K_TbqskaKl3d_kwWDK7rf59lCfWLZoy1GlO-b8fJoka3yRJKXvQSiMCr72MReuAF0MskREOLLRPCRqjW_okI0WtE3P3HAtfDvuxP8aWIp_hM_G_MYl2Nk2cHeRi1lxpd1w-kTue/s1600/Feb+7-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dToY0K_TbqskaKl3d_kwWDK7rf59lCfWLZoy1GlO-b8fJoka3yRJKXvQSiMCr72MReuAF0MskREOLLRPCRqjW_okI0WtE3P3HAtfDvuxP8aWIp_hM_G_MYl2Nk2cHeRi1lxpd1w-kTue/s320/Feb+7-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Bubbles seemed like the way to go. I mean... who doesn't like bubbles? Who can look at bubbles and not smile?</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/AVvXsEhx7-zHFckVWXnJKg0AGNbEqLU1l8iW8ALGSyCy76jh2Sy5zLKtNwbIn3zCX0hhQbOP5e9k9sjw0FynFq4KbiVmfGXAN1FLEZtDvgKUPn7t10QyH7cUN59X4p64rgC2ubM1F6ZNbmfQnLgb/s1600/Feb+7-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7-zHFckVWXnJKg0AGNbEqLU1l8iW8ALGSyCy76jh2Sy5zLKtNwbIn3zCX0hhQbOP5e9k9sjw0FynFq4KbiVmfGXAN1FLEZtDvgKUPn7t10QyH7cUN59X4p64rgC2ubM1F6ZNbmfQnLgb/s320/Feb+7-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Who doesn't kinda want to go play with bubbles now?</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/AVvXsEizXGbX-mQguqgr4l3UZdun5oTtrllPiQMUkY23swMPvK9ERD-Fn6GEcEuyynKWiohwhzAxtFQj7r5mYYCmPfCqRcdeKhvTzqhzwNVzfAXUNSUryUPwu-m4BUxQNornWFqUm-24siIHYVQ5/s1600/Feb+7-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXGbX-mQguqgr4l3UZdun5oTtrllPiQMUkY23swMPvK9ERD-Fn6GEcEuyynKWiohwhzAxtFQj7r5mYYCmPfCqRcdeKhvTzqhzwNVzfAXUNSUryUPwu-m4BUxQNornWFqUm-24siIHYVQ5/s320/Feb+7-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Bubbles, man. They're just great.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">They're the fucking best.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Bubbles.</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-73045972466380135132012-02-06T19:41:00.000-06:002012-02-06T19:41:16.023-06:00And Now We Are Twenty-EightMy birthday was the other... week and I am now twenty-eight years old.<br />
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I don't really know what else to say about that.<br />
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I do think this year is going to be a good year. I'm going to get married when I'm 28. More than likely we're going to get a puppy when I'm 28. No doubt at least one other good thing will happen in the next 355 days or so. <br />
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All the same, 28. That's a big number. For me.<br />
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So anyway, here are some pictures of frost. Which seems to be the sum total of winter we're going to get around here.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLnCWq11VSGhs3fmmin6KTkd1gWw7j-0GGfTZLJZolzjCAymLECv7t1qk0utDbbmAt1jchMEUhH7SCFW5bPGvNteVn0KY-13-C33xpyu4ZP6EadURGgnvMiq0ucjaeLyR26lj8SP2lJaE/s1600/Feb6-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLnCWq11VSGhs3fmmin6KTkd1gWw7j-0GGfTZLJZolzjCAymLECv7t1qk0utDbbmAt1jchMEUhH7SCFW5bPGvNteVn0KY-13-C33xpyu4ZP6EadURGgnvMiq0ucjaeLyR26lj8SP2lJaE/s320/Feb6-4.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>This happened a couple of weeks ago now. Though something sort of similar did happen Saturday morning. But I didn't venture outside for that one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEPflfKuIc-WUPzQ5P9D-WOTNMPObj13qISgWFClzTBpuK8rZ0ylfRfw3douI8MChzuXx4RJK_y3ynOQhPzvBLrOV59ZhV1N53gmsApHL52RjyHQlE7FhcougPkHumgBde6fcwU-xTn3P/s1600/Feb6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEPflfKuIc-WUPzQ5P9D-WOTNMPObj13qISgWFClzTBpuK8rZ0ylfRfw3douI8MChzuXx4RJK_y3ynOQhPzvBLrOV59ZhV1N53gmsApHL52RjyHQlE7FhcougPkHumgBde6fcwU-xTn3P/s320/Feb6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>But we have this giant pine tree out in our front yard that took the frost really well. And looked very cool. So I got a little fascinated.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMs06ghpFSF-x-ZDXVCnaLG97eDqVv7cFufL1lxnG32ATYksSs9bYTqgR0B95QAf60rkTJPbvivPBSRA0eGlqopiRQ9gbeJBd3LdcdGdQ3-a5damT5qtoJrv-J-aizRiA-C7RrXICjhb4/s1600/Feb6-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMs06ghpFSF-x-ZDXVCnaLG97eDqVv7cFufL1lxnG32ATYksSs9bYTqgR0B95QAf60rkTJPbvivPBSRA0eGlqopiRQ9gbeJBd3LdcdGdQ3-a5damT5qtoJrv-J-aizRiA-C7RrXICjhb4/s320/Feb6-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We have a smaller pine tree closer to our door that had really, really cool frosted pine cones as well. But it was also pretty windy and, yeah, they just would not sit still long enough to focus on them. It was very irritating. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AqTr4f9PSN1DnEkxOw9HyC-xxug0eD7ZWAOs_1L71U79eeztr7XTIBeUV-2GWcxpR7AgdH478jvOlwuarHASVgLViDtjobgRM1XWsoNvRpQ0nrNxflVu3m4ewrXXraxDhs-WryZog0hH/s1600/Feb6-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AqTr4f9PSN1DnEkxOw9HyC-xxug0eD7ZWAOs_1L71U79eeztr7XTIBeUV-2GWcxpR7AgdH478jvOlwuarHASVgLViDtjobgRM1XWsoNvRpQ0nrNxflVu3m4ewrXXraxDhs-WryZog0hH/s320/Feb6-2.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>Also there was actual snow involved this time. Which promptly melted. But it looked pretty for the roughly 12 hours it hung around. and I got to stomp around in it for awhile. And pretend I'm something more like just eight. Without the twenty in front of it. <br />
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A weekend of two ago there were puddles in the Target parking lot. Steve more or less dared me to splash in them on the way in and I didn't. On the way back to the car though, I was all over that. To the point where he ran away from me so I wouldn't splash on him. And he started telling me I was getting my purse dirty, etc. I didn't care, I was having fun. And acting like a kid. Which everyone should do now and then.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-40030164178043637042012-01-13T18:50:00.000-06:002012-01-13T18:50:58.247-06:00Frozen Tundra - KindaSo there's still little to no snow here. Basically instead of looking like winter everything just looks dead.<br />
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It's kind of depressing.<br />
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It has, however, decided to start being January temperature-wise.<br />
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That is... it's cold.<br />
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And that's really annoying.<br />
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Because if we were going to have a full-on winter with an identity crisis the least it could do is stay in the 40's. This whole everything looking dead and being damn cold is super annoying.<br />
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It does lead to stuff like this:<br />
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Which is pretty cool. But we did have to drive to Alexandria, spend a weekend with all of my co-workers, and go walking by a frozen lake to find it. So there are trade-offs there. Frosted leaves are cool and all, but seriously.<br />
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That also means we both spent pretty much 12 days in a row working, which is not really something either of does anymore. So we're very tired. <br />
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Also, it means I haven't done anything geeky or cool lately. <br />
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I may have consumption though, but that's completely unrelated. And I'm pretty sure I can kick it, so far it's just been fun you know? Who doesn't like coughing to death?Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-59896897052393650862011-12-21T21:29:00.000-06:002011-12-21T21:29:17.813-06:00Don't Call It A Countdown - Day 8 - Bestest Santa EverWe have quite a few Santas on our tree. Most of them are pretty alright. One of them is kind of creepy. He's got these knobby white legs sticking out of shorts and stuff. But he's playing baseball so we keep him. (That's pretty much all it takes around these parts.) One of them is super cool and made of hand blown glass. Except each of his limbs was made separately and they're all held together with little o-rings and, yeah, that doesn't photograph well. Looks super cool in person. In pictures looks like the Frankenstein of Santa Clauses.<br />
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My absolute favorite Santa ornament, though, is this one:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA44PRwkK5OiKdmVa6SkubfluqM3kP0ZLIxDwLlfo5ZHznCj11EyiGqexV2E7XsX4aq1Z9p7jg45ysebJHE4In-krb_ONcf-t5UaXGvzyIO-hObZFA-Eoyax7jd4rCrnBEc68XFVjdkCG/s1600/DSCN6812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKA44PRwkK5OiKdmVa6SkubfluqM3kP0ZLIxDwLlfo5ZHznCj11EyiGqexV2E7XsX4aq1Z9p7jg45ysebJHE4In-krb_ONcf-t5UaXGvzyIO-hObZFA-Eoyax7jd4rCrnBEc68XFVjdkCG/s320/DSCN6812.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
D'aww! Isn't he the cutest thing?! Lookit his little beard! And his teeny hat! And he has little, bitty bells for feet! He's just the cutest little guy. Plus his whole body is only like an inch squared. So when I say he's a tiny little guy, he really is a tiny little guy.<br />
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He's the bestest little Santa ever. <br />
<br />
He has a little gumdrop/snowman companion but apparently that one is camera shy because seriously - I tried like seven times and the damn thing just would not focus. So I'm stickin' with Santa tonight.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-17615242510848702142011-12-20T22:51:00.000-06:002011-12-20T22:51:49.067-06:00Don't Call It A Countdown - Day 7 - Luck 'O The Irish Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So... obviously I have an Irish Christmas tree ornament right? Know what I really like about this? It's actually three or four <i>different</i> colors of green <u>and</u> it has glitter. Perfect storm of Irish ornament. </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/AVvXsEgi0RvC1gdDvlsIRMGRGYAvCHivj-0eTKdpw1lNqHcZm3DszLRASk0PB-TEgR5_DHX88Jh2zl2VmEdxEFl1wX1_oAXcwOFW7cF22vJt36Y34hyphenhyphen-zi10o2KIXva2aNJDvb5KdgnzvsD7fuY9/s1600/DSCN6804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0RvC1gdDvlsIRMGRGYAvCHivj-0eTKdpw1lNqHcZm3DszLRASk0PB-TEgR5_DHX88Jh2zl2VmEdxEFl1wX1_oAXcwOFW7cF22vJt36Y34hyphenhyphen-zi10o2KIXva2aNJDvb5KdgnzvsD7fuY9/s320/DSCN6804.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Also, yep, that's totally a penguin in the background.<br />
<br />
That's not the point. But it's solid all the same.<br />
<br />
Um, yeah. I made a wonderfully poor decision last night. I stayed up way later than normal hanging out with Steve and a couple of his cousins, who were over to watch the hockey game. It was delightful because they're cool dudes and funny and all. It was an awful decision because that led to me being very tired and grumpy all day. Not super.<br />
<br />
So... I'm going to sleep now. And I'm going to dream about glittery green tree ornaments.<br />
<br />
Okay, probably not. But so long as they're not part of the zombie apocalypse (which I've legitimately dreamt about, by the way) it'd probably be a pretty cool dream. Glittery anyway. Zombies might be better if there's glitter involved. It might help their public image. It's all about PR. Or so I hear.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-76670744633761852422011-12-19T21:13:00.001-06:002011-12-19T21:14:45.857-06:00Don't Call It A Countdown - Day 6 - For Realsies This TimeI just had the most baffling conversation with Steve in which it became clear that he doesn't even know if he reads my blog or not.<br />
<br />
So that's neat. I guess that means I can complain about him then. Cool.<br />
<br />
Also my power cord for my laptop is totally fucked right now. So I'm trying to type this one-handed (and doing a fairly good job at that, if i do say so myself) while trying to hold the cord in <i>just right</i> so that my whole freaking computer won't shut down. I'm trying to stay positive (because apparently my mom doesn''t remember that I'm a smartass by nature while simultaneously being entertained by that) but seriously, this kind of sucks. But since this is already my second or third power cord for this laptop (and they're damn expensive) I <i>really</i> don't want to get another one. ugh.<br />
<br />
Anyway, lately, I sort of feel like everything's breaking on me lately. My car broke. my computer's kind of jacked. Our TV broke (though, bright spot there, it fixed itself - but that seems shady to me. I'm assuming it's going to break again) two of my favorite pairs of shoes have heels are worn down to the nubs. I kind of feel like I need a hug.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROwiEAX7Tv_zBMoeKQo1wuav4tEZsDnM_txDZncGeb_sdk-RLoY9468qX17CnFfvArvk75zes8j_0o9EvkCfQ81qWqFH3pBhdMg9vMiWw8WgVvwcEQ-TglLQYVumYVhDZ4IDc7BXsZAys/s1600/DSCN6801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROwiEAX7Tv_zBMoeKQo1wuav4tEZsDnM_txDZncGeb_sdk-RLoY9468qX17CnFfvArvk75zes8j_0o9EvkCfQ81qWqFH3pBhdMg9vMiWw8WgVvwcEQ-TglLQYVumYVhDZ4IDc7BXsZAys/s320/DSCN6801.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Which makes me happy we have this little guy who's just waiting to give out hugs. Isn't he cute? He's all string and top hat and hugs. And he's got a little scarf! He's so cute! I just love him.<br />
<br />
I just wish he was full sized so I could have a full sized hug. Boo.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-63226540445400946722011-12-19T10:02:00.002-06:002011-12-19T12:26:23.029-06:00Don't Call It A Countdown - Day 4.5 (Cause I Forgot Edition)I got carried away with the Ghost of Christmas Present... and a sea of dirty dishes last night and by the time we got home from dinner with Steve's parents and grandparents I had just enough time to fold a load of laundry and go to bed.<br />
<br />
... And I sort of forgot to do a blog post.<br />
<br />
Whoops.<br />
<br />
I thought about it. I said to myself "Self, you need to do a blog post." And then I went to sleep instead.<br />
<br />
That's the problem with me. Given the choice between sleep and other stuff, I'm generally inclined to pick sleep. I'm a bum.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXaCdXGn3XHKLfXcwu5xklchBAgrrtNNdcIqCiS4J6-tQmyCpX9l-ZbD38_Na0mQyBVn9qr-oehL5ACKpk1ozPdgtWGhF5YAl_bU0krXdMBjWRJ7nlqEdJPs8XNMgn6nzZEe4wyH-KAqL/s1600/DSCN6807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXaCdXGn3XHKLfXcwu5xklchBAgrrtNNdcIqCiS4J6-tQmyCpX9l-ZbD38_Na0mQyBVn9qr-oehL5ACKpk1ozPdgtWGhF5YAl_bU0krXdMBjWRJ7nlqEdJPs8XNMgn6nzZEe4wyH-KAqL/s320/DSCN6807.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>You know what else tends to get forgotten? <b>All</b> the other reindeer. Don't get me wrong, Rudolph's great an all. But some times I feel bad for, like Blitzen and the boys. Sure they made fun of Rudy a few times when they were kids, but they were kids. We all did things we regret when we were kids. And adolescent reindeer will be adolescent reindeer after all. I'm sure they're not bad people, er, reindeer. They just got carried away by the mob mentality of the moment. I especially feel bad for Donner. Because Rudolph is his son in the movie and, man, he does not get portrayed well at all. Straight up jerk right there. And that's probably not true. Donner's probably an alright deer. He's just misunderstood, that's all.<br />
<br />
Probably.<br />
<br />
I'll be back again later for full non-countdown coverage!<br />
<br />
UPDATE: I forgot to say: The thing I like best about this ornament is that, simply by living with the other ornaments in a box for the rest of the year, he now has glitter-butt. And that's awesome.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-4502693046024953892011-12-17T23:07:00.000-06:002011-12-17T23:07:52.133-06:00Don't Call It A Countdown - Day 4 - Hockey Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Steve and I just watched the first episode of this season's 24/7. The Flyers/Rangers road to the Winter Classic. (Aside: I find the commercial for the winter classic with the little song and the cameos and whatnot insanely entertaining. And catchy.) Since Steve and I have been together I've become a hockey fan so these things interest me now. And frankly I'm sorely disappointed in the Twins right now. I mean seriously. You couldn't do better than 30 million. Really? I mean honestly you could have done a telethon and probably gotten half of that. Fail, Twins. Fail. But honestly, I'm kind of so upset about that I don't even want to talk about it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What I learned about this episode of 24/7 is: I probably shouldn't watch it. For the same reason it's bad for me to watch Planet Earth. Yes it's awesome. Yes I really enjoy it. But every time I start to think "awww, that animal is so cute" it gets eaten by a wolf or something. And then I'm sad. I root for the wrong animals. It's very disappointing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tonight 24/7 started, some hockey player started talking and I said "he's kind of cute." Then Steve said "yeah, he's out with a concussion now." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then later on they were talking about some dude on the Flyers who's apparently, like, really good at hockey. Sweet. Then he talked for a while and he was pretty modest and fairly well spoken and I thought to myself "he's got a nice smile and a cool accent. I like him." Then they showed the footage of him getting hit in the head and getting a concussion. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's like the animals in Planet Earth. When I start liking somebody in 24/7, they get a concussion. This is not cool.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know what you're thinking - the likelihood of hockey players getting concussions is pretty high. I say this: The likelihood of animals getting eaten is pretty high too, it still sucks.</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/AVvXsEieqqQVGjmG3_VZw4K52qbcdSODGFBWNyi_K1sqfegvcG-wAspIwn9eavlmSY9VziAi__t_Fb7ftP_jJ0aLC5hwKsTeBC_-rdictNVeEbj94T5tOkInUDD0GLr3vppbcjrrJp2SwI_W3Sqr/s1600/DSCN6794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieqqQVGjmG3_VZw4K52qbcdSODGFBWNyi_K1sqfegvcG-wAspIwn9eavlmSY9VziAi__t_Fb7ftP_jJ0aLC5hwKsTeBC_-rdictNVeEbj94T5tOkInUDD0GLr3vppbcjrrJp2SwI_W3Sqr/s320/DSCN6794.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Extreme close up of the vase filled with ornaments that won't fit on our tree! (In my head that was in the Wayne's World voice.) I like the colors. Plus! Glitter. So, you know, that makes a mess out of everything. Anyhow, I like it.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-23645951335130478792011-12-16T23:22:00.000-06:002011-12-16T23:22:37.998-06:00Call It A Countdown You Mustn't - Day 3 - Geek Girl EditionOne of the things I like best about myself (stick with me here, I'm pretty sure this turns out way better than it sounds) is that I'm just a gigantic nerd. Seriously. Big. Fat. Nerd.<br />
<br />
I am a geek girl. (I watched a video a few weeks ago about calling yourself a geek woman rather than girl and, wow, it made totally awesome, valid points that I totally agreed with. Geek girl just rolls off the tongue so much better though.) <br />
<br />
And that kicks ass. Like I said, probably the coolest thing about me. Super big nerd. It's where a lot of my humor comes from and I'm also kinda smart so that's cool too. Pretty sweet package overall, the nerdiness.<br />
<br />
Settle in for a long-ass story - because there's bonus Christmas nonsense today! (Man I hope that's incentive.)<br />
<br />
Awhile back Steve and I were in the car on the way home from somewhere and - searching for something we hadn't talked about already that day - I said:<br />
<br />
"I was reading <a href="http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/" target="_blank">Wil Wheaton's Blog</a> the other day and -"<br />
<br />
"Whoa, wait," he interrupted, "you were reading Wil Wheaton's blog?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah."<br />
<br />
"<i>You </i>were?"<br />
<br />
"Yeeeees." (This seemed pretty obvious to me, as I <i>had</i> just said so.)<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"Because it's funny?" (Again, these are the things that seem obvious to me.)<br />
<br />
"But you don't like Wil Wheaton."<br />
<br />
"Why wouldn't I like Whil Wheaton?!" (Seriously, we kept saying his full name. What's up with that?)<br />
<br />
"You've never watched Star Trek. You're not into that. What reason would you have to be a fan of Wil Wheaton?"<br />
<br />
"Stand by Me."<br />
<br />
"Are you kidding?"<br />
<br />
"And Toy Soldiers." (Seriously - Toy Soldiers was, and remains, part of my reasoning.)<br />
<br />
"... I... what... that doesn't even make sense, Hun."<br />
<br />
"Sure it does. He's the kid from Stand by Me. Which I love. So I love him. Then he was in Toy Soldiers. Which I also love. For some reason. So I keep loving him. Now he has a really funny blog which I read and love. And he guest stars on stuff I usually watch and enjoy. So I love him."<br />
<br />
"But he's best known for a role on Star Trek, which you don't and never have watched."<br />
<br />
"So?"<br />
<br />
"So that's why people know him."<br />
<br />
"But that's not why I know him."<br />
<br />
"But that's not why everyone else knows him."<br />
<br />
"I don't see how that's a reason why I shouldn't read his blog."<br />
<br />
"... I guess. Go on."<br />
<br />
I proceeded to tell him whatever I'd read on Wil Wheaton's blog that had made me giggle and, as we were getting out of the car a few minutes later Steve said to me:<br />
<br />
"Seriously, Hun, you should just watch Star Trek already. You're so close to you're black belt in nerd, Hun, just go for it already."<br />
<br />
...And that was hilarious.<br />
<br />
A few days later I sent him an email that said:<br />
"So I've been meaning to ask: If I do watch Star Trek, do I get an actual black belt? And if so, what does a black belt in nerd look like exactly? Does it have decals? (I personally think it should have decals.) Does it come with a holster for a light saber? It seems like any sort of belt for a nerd should come with holsters for various weapons - swords, stakes, phasers, light sabers, etc. Is there a ceremony of some kind involved? Like a crowning, but with a belt instead of a crown? A belting, if you will?<br />
<br />
Also, inquiring minds want to know (okay, well one inquiring mind wants to know): does nerdery follow the standard levels of belting: i.e. white, yellow, orange, green, purple, red, brown, black? What does one have to do to attain the various lever? Am I really a brown belt nerd? I know I'm nerdy, I like my nerdiness, still."<br />
<br />
His response was: "ummm... sure? I don't know, Hun, it was just a joke. But I this this conversation proves your a nerd already."<br />
<br />
And because I'm unwilling to let things go:<br />
"Well I'm not denying that I'm a nerd, sweetie. I think that's been pretty blatantly obvious for quite some time now. But... it was a good joke, and now I want a black belt in nerd. I could do it, if I train hard enough... I can do the crane like Daniel-Son! Sweep the leg! Wait, no. That was Johnny, dammit. Wouldn't it be cool? My black belt in nerd with like a little Nintendo controller on it, and - I don't know, like a Lego brick or something, and... a little TARDIS! and it could have a little holster for my blaster (cause hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side and all.) It would be my nerdy badge of honor."<br />
<br />
... And then Steve stopped talking to me about this topic. That was probably the right plan of action for his sanity. But we don't value sanity that much in our house.<br />
<br />
I'm sharing all of this because tonight the super huge geek girl inside me had a very exciting night. Why?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGLon99Ym4b0gbdcHHeLXelBLWqC-8zV6E_YDc1vkNvpgAsYwC5ARDyAzW1MYPjEK9mWC8SdpKEIbfqLoHh2Sto5qrobZUhjRHvsLIioeAi89-0Zt86Psf8VuH0yL92WQk4r0iz9GjFOh/s1600/DSCN6808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGLon99Ym4b0gbdcHHeLXelBLWqC-8zV6E_YDc1vkNvpgAsYwC5ARDyAzW1MYPjEK9mWC8SdpKEIbfqLoHh2Sto5qrobZUhjRHvsLIioeAi89-0Zt86Psf8VuH0yL92WQk4r0iz9GjFOh/s320/DSCN6808.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>See that?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiq8IDeKjcSo55V4RD4qCoSXcbqATTyEAEYNyJxmuwAYOZsPOAVRDaYOgiAJ3jop5ge8v_4_02fGO-AgQ-HMUOdCzpLJ-BKqj75byWplaZOR0bv4nJdagdkupYp1_yxz0MKb2FkkSVwh2/s1600/DSCN6810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiq8IDeKjcSo55V4RD4qCoSXcbqATTyEAEYNyJxmuwAYOZsPOAVRDaYOgiAJ3jop5ge8v_4_02fGO-AgQ-HMUOdCzpLJ-BKqj75byWplaZOR0bv4nJdagdkupYp1_yxz0MKb2FkkSVwh2/s320/DSCN6810.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And that?<br />
<br />
I made those. <br />
<br />
HEEHEE!<br />
<br />
I made paper snowflakes that look like Yoda and Boba Fett! Hee!<br />
<br />
I have more that look like Darth Vader, C3PO, a Storm Trooper and a Clone Trooper. (When I showed them to Steve he said to me "You know it's seriously hot that you know the difference, on sight, between a storm trooper and a clone trooper, right?" Which made me laugh. Because, yeah, I kinda do know that.)<br />
<br />
Now before we get too crazy I didn't just make these up. I made them from templates. Which I originally read about on <a href="http://www.epbot.com/2011/12/dont-blink-angel-topper-other-holiday.html" target="_blank">EPBOT</a> (which I love to pieces) but the TARDIS one looked <i>way</i> too complicated for me to attempt. Then I saw them again, specifically the Star Wars ones, on <a href="http://www.geeksaresexy.net/2011/12/15/geektastic-star-wars-paper-snowflakes-pics-templates/" target="_blank">Geeks are Sexy</a>, which I check several times a day and may be the site I look at more than any other actually. It's awesome sauce. Plus - completely accurate title. The Star Wars designs got me much more interested and once Boba Fett got into the mix (via <a href="http://www.anthonyherreradesigns.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=56:star-wars-snowflakes&catid=34:anthonydesign-blog" target="_blank">Anthony Herrera Designs</a>, which is also included in the GaS article) I was hooked. It was tricky, especially Yoda. There are some really teeny cuts in there. But so, so cool.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDAY8WFvCOsauheeod-jf16t69_rrmbWyBeWyI5H8u37780z0EQ_bdW4KlcsyY9rISR61hwhVmygEUKrVwSeIqoBIKRv7phgKGcqwuSgdjLUGFlh1g6zs3ObAwi3_GYcng7MSO9fhzgKb/s1600/DSCN6809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDAY8WFvCOsauheeod-jf16t69_rrmbWyBeWyI5H8u37780z0EQ_bdW4KlcsyY9rISR61hwhVmygEUKrVwSeIqoBIKRv7phgKGcqwuSgdjLUGFlh1g6zs3ObAwi3_GYcng7MSO9fhzgKb/s320/DSCN6809.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>When I finished Yoda, I said to Steve "Hunny, you have to come and look at this. It's so cool!" I'm not kidding, I was literally bouncing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGvRTcAmTxs5iHbsqiV9xgdcG5HARHXJdZ3lsqeiP5TuDcUjIRmmOhMVlCs5ZY1i2Y1ro0DaReXaZ4cgjEfsjsNNmlTwTKeP6jkKfpKpdrBb5Uuy6W_5x1gbzYEpLKf-eaFRVgdVhXmhN/s1600/DSCN6811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGvRTcAmTxs5iHbsqiV9xgdcG5HARHXJdZ3lsqeiP5TuDcUjIRmmOhMVlCs5ZY1i2Y1ro0DaReXaZ4cgjEfsjsNNmlTwTKeP6jkKfpKpdrBb5Uuy6W_5x1gbzYEpLKf-eaFRVgdVhXmhN/s320/DSCN6811.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Steve loves the Fett. So I knew I could get him on board with this.<br />
<br />
I had decided earlier today to post a picture of our Yoda tree ornament tonight:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDpAsUxR6Hsfihx-fz8of6zq6rM0vWQnjXYL7aMnuS-u5G17u2n2y9LLPAoast6bMtyM3TiUC9YPkXcjiP2IQw9JDpcmMhyrlNQMWsumlOGJmOBduxSUeDmoK1sGCbOkXwywueh76EoJU/s1600/DSCN6806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDpAsUxR6Hsfihx-fz8of6zq6rM0vWQnjXYL7aMnuS-u5G17u2n2y9LLPAoast6bMtyM3TiUC9YPkXcjiP2IQw9JDpcmMhyrlNQMWsumlOGJmOBduxSUeDmoK1sGCbOkXwywueh76EoJU/s320/DSCN6806.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Because <i>of course</i> we have a Yoda Christmas tree ornament. It may not be the first thing that occurs to you, but once you start thinking about it - you don't want to live in a world where we don't. I don't want to live in a world where we don't anyway. I mean seriously. Yoda ornaments should be the new pickles (you know? the Christmas pickle tradition?) - and that's as someone who totally loves pickles too.<br />
<br />
That reminds me - I have a pretty great story about standing up for the awesomeness of Yoda as a, like, 8-year-old that I'm not sure I've ever actually told anyone. Once upon a time I joined some friends who were playing in the school yard by our house. They were talking about Star Wars, which I had recently seen for the first time, and which characters were their favorites. They asked me who I liked best and I told them - Yoda. Because Yoda was, and is, the shit. What I didn't know or particularly understand at the time was that they weren't necessarily talking about who was the <i>best</i> character (Yoda) they were talking about who was the cutest. This was the Han Vs. Luke conversation. (The answer is Han, by the way.) So their response to me was a fairly incredulous "Yoda? Ew. He has ear hair." No joke, this was like 20 years ago and I remember specifically that they pointed out ear hair. I gotta tell you they teased me pretty hard for probably 10, 15 minutes or so and the whole time I was like "Whatever, Yoda is way better than <i>Luke</i>." (Which is totally true, by the way.) And they kind of made me feel like crap. It's not really their fault either, I didn't get what that conversation was really about until I reflected on it many years later. And not even that I wasn't aware of boys being cute at that point or anything - I just wasn't there for the beginning. Anyway - the point of the story: Even at 8 years old, Yoda was freaking awesome. And even now, faced with the question "Who's better: Han or Luke?" I'm probably just as likely to say Yoda as I was then. Because Yoda's still the best character.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-47467192785333019852011-12-15T21:51:00.000-06:002011-12-15T21:51:33.409-06:00Don't Call It A Countdown - Day Two - First World Problems<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">This post will henceforth be known as "the one where she complained about sunshine" or "Stupid Sun" or, more probably "Seriously, What is She On"?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">The good news is my mom thinks I'm funny. So there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">A little bit of back story here – We have had, like, four days of rain here in Minnesota.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Just your typical December weather.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">You know, plus roughly 30 degrees. But whatever. Nothing is wrong with the environment! Mind your business. (That was my impression of... dumb, I guess.)</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">My point being, it’s been pretty dark and gloomy for about a week.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">I’m not kidding.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">It got cloudy on Sunday afternoon and that was that.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Earlier today I wasn’t thinking I was going to have anything to ramble on about.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Because I was neck deep into a spreadsheet that is generally the bane of my existence and just, oh my god, the stupidity.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">The complete, abject and total stupidity of this spreadsheet.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">And how incredibly manual </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">everything</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"> is and seriously, what the hell just, why? (To put this into perspective I normally have a fair amount of patience with the spreadsheets that are my working life. No seriously, I do. However - I've spent the last three full days at work fighting with Microsoft Access and so now, basically, everything is just incredibly dumb. So the things that were just kind of dumb before are horrifying stupid. And the things that were face-palm worthy before induce the above rant.)</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">So yeah, I was thinking about that most of the day.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">This afternoon, still working on the same spreadsheet, the sun just came from nowhere and blinded the shit out of me. But then it went away. So I was still sitting there in my chair being all like "what is that bright ball of gas in the sky?" when it got cloudy and normal again, so I went back to work. This proceeded to happen over and over again for the next two hours. Basically I kept thinking about closing the blinds but every time it was like "well, now it's cloudy again, oh well. Problem solved." Then ten minutes later "holy crap, what the? Why can't I see anything?"</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Anyway - my overall points are these:</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">1) Man, the sun is annoying.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">2) This is not rambling, this is free association run amok. My mom said so. So there. Neener neener.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_5kCEoI7r0nH4f_Ehrs8wuUjC7p3HrnsV4ukc5z3eKrBI7TSSDxFmvHOPUe-c7H-AsbOH09_GJFujFebnGd-C5YbthlLiQsvKh0YDgQOn_oEgg3CyOYTSxXu-uxn8ZRPNOVocaKF_AHv/s1600/DSCN6802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_5kCEoI7r0nH4f_Ehrs8wuUjC7p3HrnsV4ukc5z3eKrBI7TSSDxFmvHOPUe-c7H-AsbOH09_GJFujFebnGd-C5YbthlLiQsvKh0YDgQOn_oEgg3CyOYTSxXu-uxn8ZRPNOVocaKF_AHv/s320/DSCN6802.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Since I started out yesterday with a penguin, I thought it was only fair to have a monkey today - for steve. This one is make of blown glass, so it's an annual Christmas miracle that we don't break it. I also really dig his little Santa hat and the fact that he hangs from his legs. It's a pretty cool ornaments and easily one of my favorites. ... It actually just occurred to me that I don't if Steve really likes this ornament or not. I hope he does, cuz I think it's super cool. Plus it's a monkey. So come on, it's a monkey. What else do you need? A penguin with it maybe? That would make it better, come to think of it.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-88102080295173842242011-12-14T20:06:00.001-06:002011-12-14T20:08:35.401-06:00Don’t Call it a Countdown – Day 1<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">I don’t really like all the countdown type of things various… well mostly television channels do at Christmas time. In my opinion, no matter what particular carols or ABC Family will tell you there aren’t “days” of Christmas. There’s Christmas. There’s Christmas Eve. If you want to get super technical (and/or you live in Britain and/or Canada) there’s Boxing Day. That’s about it. This whole 12, 15, 25 Days of Christmas thing bugs me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Don’t get me wrong I like to put up our tree as soon as possible. If Steve would let me it would go up the day after Thanksgiving. He doesn’t though so I usually have to wait until the first weekend in December. If I further had my way it would stay up until February. I don’t get my way then either, though, and so it gets taken down shortly after New Years. Apparently it’s “more special” this way. I don’t think he understands – the Christmas tree is awesome and length of display does not dispel from said awesomeness. Duh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Anyway… I like our decorations and I have a tendency to take pictures of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">It has also come to my attention recently that I don’t really have much to “say” exactly, but I do seem to ramble a lot. And some people find that entertaining. And by “some people” I mean “mostly me.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">And finally, I recently came upon the need to – metaphorically – say “suck it – I like my pictures” to particular people. Which… I can’t really talk more about to the whole internet, because I’m not a moron. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">But it made me think of something that, historically, Kris Kristofferson is known for saying; more personally, my dad is known to quote; and more recently, <a href="http://thebloggess.com/" target="_blank">The Bloggess</a> made into a card in her shop (<a href="http://www.zazzle.com/dont_let_the_bastards_get_you_down_card-137976291546366387" target="_blank">Don't let the bastards get you down</a>) – which is making me giggle. A lot. I especially like the Winnie the Pooh-esque balloons. Very festive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Anyhoodle – I’m thinking that for every day between now and Christmas (which, incidentally, is 12 days so I guess that makes this a partridge in a pear tree) I’m going to post a picture of one of our decorations and something – possibly about that decoration or possibly just me rambling about how I don’t like ABC Family very much. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Just don’t call it a countdown. I don’t like that.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjfLR8i2jjtke1fX3tPJmDCydu81QBmsM81d27hh22EsSXAq1aRdBY8D5U78087kjbsTxjsIlEjuHeYL5dFCJAEnJjHBqUCncfctAI5dqUZt6D0EOQM5Hlvx_-JlaEViGF2vwx1MChFMzb/s1600/DSCN6798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjfLR8i2jjtke1fX3tPJmDCydu81QBmsM81d27hh22EsSXAq1aRdBY8D5U78087kjbsTxjsIlEjuHeYL5dFCJAEnJjHBqUCncfctAI5dqUZt6D0EOQM5Hlvx_-JlaEViGF2vwx1MChFMzb/s320/DSCN6798.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I can't see any better way to start something off than with a penguin. Obviously.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-19381790978028050732011-12-13T20:58:00.000-06:002011-12-13T20:58:04.538-06:00Tiny Little LightsPsst... you wanna know a secret?<br />
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I really like Christmas lights.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0cMRZ1W5blCUDkp1mKoYYBTtL0w3fXdtWYVRGGwH5RKrOMxQzPcINe70fNJ3GBY7vPKNsPpVbItApdNInyf1p8EMZWfHUR2dgCSzenGOvp4eaXcDXVg4G_hL66SavQPesKjf0T325hul/s1600/DSCN6784+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0cMRZ1W5blCUDkp1mKoYYBTtL0w3fXdtWYVRGGwH5RKrOMxQzPcINe70fNJ3GBY7vPKNsPpVbItApdNInyf1p8EMZWfHUR2dgCSzenGOvp4eaXcDXVg4G_hL66SavQPesKjf0T325hul/s320/DSCN6784+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They may be one of my most favorite things actually.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPS-SrSXaePjVI0ibIgPEBc0FkDNeUwFUAFmxVAiqWqaReRFVb0hLMuWMMpBoVIIETD86o6fnkgSZpgHNbDm7yZETLxE_wL29xHYFzYuqe1_9_5slUL2t1s1lq3hFWBksUDu_v2EmCaqF/s1600/DSCN6780+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPS-SrSXaePjVI0ibIgPEBc0FkDNeUwFUAFmxVAiqWqaReRFVb0hLMuWMMpBoVIIETD86o6fnkgSZpgHNbDm7yZETLxE_wL29xHYFzYuqe1_9_5slUL2t1s1lq3hFWBksUDu_v2EmCaqF/s320/DSCN6780+copy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>I mean... I know they're basically pointless and a drain of energy and may possibly make people who don't celebrate Christmas feel uncomfortable or lonely or sad or something.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDPiTxCNCGTMR0JsAhvspgCnhy9sC5ZzpE3yvdO9ZetMx4M8rm61GYngCOdJUfMUA2DsaFLKymeSysIUhTwauuuuV5OAgjRgPf7CoI0rlBIFIr5iE6waw8mBUiQk6bgkxe-9xoxbY8d6H-/s1600/DSCN6781+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDPiTxCNCGTMR0JsAhvspgCnhy9sC5ZzpE3yvdO9ZetMx4M8rm61GYngCOdJUfMUA2DsaFLKymeSysIUhTwauuuuV5OAgjRgPf7CoI0rlBIFIr5iE6waw8mBUiQk6bgkxe-9xoxbY8d6H-/s320/DSCN6781+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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I'm mostly guessing at that last bit because I do celebrate Christmas so I really have no idea how the lights make people who don't celebrate Christmas feel. I'm basing this guess primarily on a song a fictional 8-year-old made of construction paper sang once. I'm realizing this might not be the best basis for a guess ever. Unless I'm playing some kind of game about beliefs held by the characters on South Park. That would be a really hard game - those kids change their damn minds a lot.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvpJq_20UQB-uRNS4eV8GqFZs6hRtvluHeSURDNnWj-tghUf2f3xGA6MCP7MtgAkNUmmKWTQ2wg5LSQdGgErI4AwXwZ1tWtB_CxYLgQWaRZJibZSvoLiQP1DNYCupauw1_sJUgwuNsrqX/s1600/DSCN6785+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvpJq_20UQB-uRNS4eV8GqFZs6hRtvluHeSURDNnWj-tghUf2f3xGA6MCP7MtgAkNUmmKWTQ2wg5LSQdGgErI4AwXwZ1tWtB_CxYLgQWaRZJibZSvoLiQP1DNYCupauw1_sJUgwuNsrqX/s320/DSCN6785+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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That was what we in the biz refer to as a "tangent." By "biz" I mean... uhhh rambling professionally. Only not professionally. Because I don't make money doing this. Amateur rambling. Olympic qualifiable rambling. Yeah. That "biz."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDAdOwU-335447-kCh9uZjfDrXqBjlneIPofbq51gAz3Ghf19EV6F33P5ICh3c7W70R7thd9_OvPs1PdOkBlfJz1HrZ1eiwajVpNY7Nl4LOpzdAJ1nsE00pDoVlbCKKct8tWKRW4GYxI4/s1600/DSCN6778+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDAdOwU-335447-kCh9uZjfDrXqBjlneIPofbq51gAz3Ghf19EV6F33P5ICh3c7W70R7thd9_OvPs1PdOkBlfJz1HrZ1eiwajVpNY7Nl4LOpzdAJ1nsE00pDoVlbCKKct8tWKRW4GYxI4/s320/DSCN6778+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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So, anyway. Back to Christmas lights. Despite their possibly less desirable qualities, I really like them. They're just neat. In my humble opinion.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLlnz13BNZW998aW4cNbsyV33KvOwOyHqvfkHdrClBUqRst6bUlqlIMtKXpdygSDZ9NFOJnDJ8-2frbb5E2pKuXJZaV-4gP2QM4ktnwlAp3l0Whpl6GW40-MWCjvxgXvcWH0bysUipoclS/s1600/DSCN6779+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLlnz13BNZW998aW4cNbsyV33KvOwOyHqvfkHdrClBUqRst6bUlqlIMtKXpdygSDZ9NFOJnDJ8-2frbb5E2pKuXJZaV-4gP2QM4ktnwlAp3l0Whpl6GW40-MWCjvxgXvcWH0bysUipoclS/s320/DSCN6779+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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They just make me feel... good inside. I'm not so sure I'd go so far as to say they specifically make me happy. But damn I love Christmas lights. They're just great.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33cGm-IwpzZp13HYgG-QMNtgRNl2I7cnWIF6uqKKCpq3ltkLDqd7gOlRqD-LV7SKmLyWyNbaPgM8MCWSoPM1YtjMaY2a42AiItyjquI5RPeYqkwnQgqOzQQW9FBaeDcZ-djPat-0Ir6pk/s1600/DSCN6786+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33cGm-IwpzZp13HYgG-QMNtgRNl2I7cnWIF6uqKKCpq3ltkLDqd7gOlRqD-LV7SKmLyWyNbaPgM8MCWSoPM1YtjMaY2a42AiItyjquI5RPeYqkwnQgqOzQQW9FBaeDcZ-djPat-0Ir6pk/s320/DSCN6786+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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...And now that I've written all of that and spent a lot of time looking at these pictures I realize they kind of look like little penises.<br />
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UPDATED: Oh man... I just realized that I only took pictures of our outdoor lights which are all white, because I like white lights outside and the multi-colored ones on the tree. But the ones inside weren't focusing correctly and eventually I gave up and didn't save any pictures of them. So now my Christmas lights might be racist as well as insensitive to other religions. Before I was just suddenly worried my lights were those jerks who insist on saying Merry Christmas instead of Happy Holidays because they <i>know</i> it makes some people uncomfortable and/or sad. Now I'm worried my lights might be part of the Klan or something. Which, you know, way worse. I mean, those people suck but they're not the klan.... oh jeeze.<br />
<br />
FURTHER UPDATED: Just to be clear: I'm joking. And trying to be funny.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-90273312615774863922011-11-02T13:24:00.000-05:002011-11-02T13:24:48.304-05:00Sir Moves A Lot (I Like Big Boxes, And I Can Not Lie...)So hey, you know what sucks?<br />
<br />
Moving. Moving sucks a lot. Like, a lot. More than a lot. Movie bites the big one. Moving is the suck that created sucking. You know what sucks worse than moving? Moving and trying to work a full time job at the same time. Yeah. That's really dumb. People shouldn't do that. There should be some kind of special leave you get where you just get a couple weeks off when you move. Like maternity leave only with a domicile instead of a child.<br />
<br />
To my friends who just had children: I apologize for that and take it back. Sorry.<br />
<br />
Anyway, yeah. The last... long time life has pretty much just been get up, go to work, go home *either pack or unpack, depending on how far back you go* then go to sleep and start all over again. <br />
<br />
Aside from the night Steve took me out to get shoved into a coffin and licked by a stranger (not kidding) we haven't really had too much opportunity for fun. And, come to think of it, the Haunted Basement at the Soap Factory - though highly effective at being quite scary - wasn't really, uh, "fun" in my book. Yeah, in case you missed it there - I was licked by a stranger and then put in a coffin. Woo freakin hoo.<br />
<br />
So, uh, yeah... life's been a little busy lately. There's a room in my house right now that's pretty much just dedicated to clothes and... piles of things. They don't even have to be things that are eventually going to go in that room. No, no. Those are things that are totally going to go on a completely different <i>floor</i> than where they are now. But are currently in a pile in that room. Because that's what that room is for right now. Not stressful at all.<br />
<br />
On the other hand - I live somewhere new now. Which means there's some new... stuff around for me to take pictures of when I stop and take pictures of... stuff. And thus! I give you:<br />
<br />
A pretty wicked picture of a raindrop on a branch of the tree that's by my deck:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRiqQoanyWHsyikPg30mR8cFvDeqiCE06iSpzIf0682Kc3IYalG9_W486azOE0QTHCVCzJyOe-7bKdKwKkuMaqiSO2Bs0Z0T3OT8x_tNBreWGCAZbibeQw8zKIBNKFOvatPkG_zuDu9vR/s1600/Nov+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRiqQoanyWHsyikPg30mR8cFvDeqiCE06iSpzIf0682Kc3IYalG9_W486azOE0QTHCVCzJyOe-7bKdKwKkuMaqiSO2Bs0Z0T3OT8x_tNBreWGCAZbibeQw8zKIBNKFOvatPkG_zuDu9vR/s320/Nov+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What I like most about it? That you can see part of the tree reflected in the raindrop. I don't like to get braggy. But in my opinion, that's pretty badass. Thinking about putting that one on a wall someplace. Except at the end of the day it's a picture of a stick. So I'm having a hard time getting around that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Other upside to the move? Wrote this on my lunch break. That's pretty awesome.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back to work now, though.</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-86902508363550115582011-08-30T21:13:00.000-05:002011-08-30T21:13:20.887-05:00Maybe This is HeavenIt's been suggested that Heaven may be located in Iowa. It's been suggested that Heaven may be, based on picture books, a partly cloudy place. Some people may try to tell you that there's no such thing as Heaven. I may be one of those people. It kind of depends on my mood, honestly. <br />
<br />
Well I've been to Iowa. And I know some damn fine Iowans. But I'm fairly certain it's no paradise.<br />
<br />
I'm not one for too much certainty in life so maybe I'm down with the partly cloudy description. The picture books do seem to suggest it.<br />
<br />
And again, I'm not one who's too big on certainty. I don't really know what's going to happen tomorrow much less in the hereafter. I very nearly minored in theology in college and really all that taught me was that religion is messed up. If there is a god - that's one seriously confused supreme being we've got ourselves. That or one incredibly certain supreme being who's just being dick for fun. Or something else entirely. I really don't know. I prefer the confused route. Anyway...<br />
<br />
There's this other thing<br />
<br />
I don't often "name" my pictures. Because that seems too much like thinking they're actual like "art" or something. It's taking myself entirely too seriously. I'm not really down with that. I start... I don't know, it gets weird, I don't like it.<br />
<br />
However... If I did name my pictures, I would probably call these "Heaven One through Five"<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUpKIlwlHmsAxowAiYnOuLseC_DtX16GQqoTGFUjvuGT7Ukyu_o105JBtMyZP9AYl4WusF8onV-XDXGREuZYpOvPSuPJsQ1XcgYP2U3IaV4XbHN4YZtVmfIoEg2_jV2NUdd6vySvnzgul/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUUpKIlwlHmsAxowAiYnOuLseC_DtX16GQqoTGFUjvuGT7Ukyu_o105JBtMyZP9AYl4WusF8onV-XDXGREuZYpOvPSuPJsQ1XcgYP2U3IaV4XbHN4YZtVmfIoEg2_jV2NUdd6vySvnzgul/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></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/AVvXsEhf-ZNhrxmXyTJCqIuNhdEcs9vHRP78a5pvLuwwAa-8bTKNAFMtjM-wjToa8pmx4dnGIAdY2j9nQ1MAWhl43AydSfrJ-1Tx9LtF9oA-ME6dIhWVZY4xE7WLup_l33sl-O6oCSFElBNwnaUO/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-ZNhrxmXyTJCqIuNhdEcs9vHRP78a5pvLuwwAa-8bTKNAFMtjM-wjToa8pmx4dnGIAdY2j9nQ1MAWhl43AydSfrJ-1Tx9LtF9oA-ME6dIhWVZY4xE7WLup_l33sl-O6oCSFElBNwnaUO/s320/4.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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iukGW-Ubwo1dZSPRZkxn7N8wneISR6DttR_sTMVHN99NmBFx2pViurFjcdee_QMgzEI9BNFDT6wEIowZgHpTKIV0hvspQN39bz5-JoNDbZRrvlVToCBsbtE3G6Rb-tSyIm-U61bjQzNV/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iukGW-Ubwo1dZSPRZkxn7N8wneISR6DttR_sTMVHN99NmBFx2pViurFjcdee_QMgzEI9BNFDT6wEIowZgHpTKIV0hvspQN39bz5-JoNDbZRrvlVToCBsbtE3G6Rb-tSyIm-U61bjQzNV/s320/1.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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNH6Y-jXv_dMbEym7kr7S14z0HgtlE95Zke7F_6GG-GsRWglf4wBl-u2rT75nMZbBsKu07X5omTjFJt16YTPASEoIV8VyzkJCqPrD2CniCEe3fvBeu8Y52TfKKMuAjdUcftQkaYdVsDIe/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNH6Y-jXv_dMbEym7kr7S14z0HgtlE95Zke7F_6GG-GsRWglf4wBl-u2rT75nMZbBsKu07X5omTjFJt16YTPASEoIV8VyzkJCqPrD2CniCEe3fvBeu8Y52TfKKMuAjdUcftQkaYdVsDIe/s320/3.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;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHP2W7gNlAxH_qjo9ffb3a7J-IV_YF5oPwpWt1-5bCYwUiiyaoZsTL8G0BledjpGHqDL1cjCB5dh0HSZ6pD9LDZ98R1wXpr__z4N6iNPQv8c01kXvMuO1bLgYWNkyXF0utZU9EIsVDWE3/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHP2W7gNlAxH_qjo9ffb3a7J-IV_YF5oPwpWt1-5bCYwUiiyaoZsTL8G0BledjpGHqDL1cjCB5dh0HSZ6pD9LDZ98R1wXpr__z4N6iNPQv8c01kXvMuO1bLgYWNkyXF0utZU9EIsVDWE3/s320/2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because seriously - if I got to pick. If I were the supreme being (confused, certain and just being a dick for fun, or whatever) and I got to make the call. This is exactly what it would look like. Baseball fields with corn in the outfield are nice. You know I like a catch with my dad. Gates made of pearl sound really nice too. Hell, I even like harp music most of the time. Give me the lake any day of the week. I'll take it. That's fuckin Heaven.</div><br />
Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-56489627938342165472011-06-25T20:05:00.000-05:002011-06-25T20:05:21.598-05:00The other day I sat down to transfer some pictures from my camera to my computer. I had taken a few in the couple of days beforehand and thought I had a few others as well.<br />
<br />
Turns out I hadn't transferred pictures since early May. Whoops.<br />
<br />
I don't know, it's like I was getting ready to bike from Duluth to White Bear Lake or something. WEIRD. <br />
<br />
So yeah, I don't really have much to talk about. I tried for a while today to try to think of something interesting or funny to write about and well... I've got bubkis.<br />
<br />
In other news, I like that word.<br />
<br />
Anyhow... the whole reason I transferred pictures in the first place is because I wanted to play with some photos of gummi bears I took.<br />
<br />
Yeah... you read that.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALIfYdsdjCnYKYY_WZMqJsnP4j16BTsTqL9Xj_gBuUQkwZlll_VnPGdjjrWG62KM7g2UgcFWNmIWqd5s4eux_c5HbmiICu1zzumvRVktjD12TVS2EVcFDtMfpRU8KT-3bFjqWdZX7fJEE/s1600/DSCN5693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALIfYdsdjCnYKYY_WZMqJsnP4j16BTsTqL9Xj_gBuUQkwZlll_VnPGdjjrWG62KM7g2UgcFWNmIWqd5s4eux_c5HbmiICu1zzumvRVktjD12TVS2EVcFDtMfpRU8KT-3bFjqWdZX7fJEE/s320/DSCN5693.jpg" width="132" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But you're kind of smiling now right? I mean... they're gummi bears. They sort of make you giggle right?</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-88301869987573288262011-06-10T08:30:00.000-05:002011-06-10T08:30:35.145-05:00Picture Me Rollin'In roughly four hours I'm leaving to go participate in the MS 150. Which means today I will be riding a bus to a small town just outside of Duluth, MN, tomorrow I will wake up, get on a bike and ride 75 miles to Hinkley, MN. Then on Sunday I will get up again, get on a bike, and ride another 75 miles to White Bear Lake.<br />
<br />
Or that's the plan anyway. I would say the odds are pretty good through the end of Saturday. The whole getting up again on Sunday thing, I think that's where I'm going to run into problems.<br />
<br />
Oh right, and the biking part. That's... that's going to be a challenge.<br />
<br />
Up until a few weeks ago I had not been on a bike since I was 15 years old. I haven't really participated in regular physical activity since I was... 13. I am not an athletic person. I don't enjoy sweat. I like reading. And knitting. And movies. Things I can sit still for I'm just really, really good at.<br />
<br />
So deciding I'm going to ride a bike for one hundred and fifty miles in a weekend is probably the dumbest thing I've ever done in my whole life. And let me tell you, that is beating out some just really, really poor decisions.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say that training for this has been the hardest thing I've ever done. I can also say that in like 72 hours that will no longer be true. I have wanted to quit. Every single day. Somewhere in the middle of the ride, every time I got on my bike something in my head has gone "you know this is ridiculous. Just give up already." The good news is I haven't listened to that voice. I have not given up, I have kept going. I have kept training and today I'm getting on a bus and I'm going to try my damnedest to do this thing. I am proud of myself for that.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to lie - I am scared. I really have very little belief that I will actually finish. And I am - illogically - worried that if I don't finish I will be letting people, and myself, down. I know that that's not true. And I am trying really hard to keep telling myself that, and to believe that. I know that a lot of people are proud of me for just making it this far, and nothing will change that. Still. I am scared.<br />
<br />
I WANT to finish and I'm going to work really, really hard to finish. But if I can't I'm going to stop and be safe and be fine with that reality.<br />
<br />
Now... the sarcastic brat in me wants to make fun of myself for a little bit and... well, I do sort of like the sarcastic brat in me so I'm going to go with that. There's a solid chance that I will actually die trying to do this this weekend so if you want any of my stuff, now's probably a good time to call dibs. Okay. I got that out. feels better now.<br />
<br />
Here are some pictures I've taken while out biking the last couple weeks. Enjoy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MzVdr8OeHHvI9dsVLXAm7MUbzs9JOxATbmsXDSLbBDH8-ffTAinGXfuhVXSoDeUtkYeeIr15fdPPT2yZjhm5QnldT5UFD3lLiL7z4feFf_BpeOoLY4KOVIkQLArga1CugyqzqgRKyiGy/s1600/233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MzVdr8OeHHvI9dsVLXAm7MUbzs9JOxATbmsXDSLbBDH8-ffTAinGXfuhVXSoDeUtkYeeIr15fdPPT2yZjhm5QnldT5UFD3lLiL7z4feFf_BpeOoLY4KOVIkQLArga1CugyqzqgRKyiGy/s320/233.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ir... Irises... Irie... screw it - Many an Iris growing on the St. Kate's campus</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/AVvXsEjANOEQ4BrO2ugzRsnxNzk__yhlKBYkl9whzDK2cE8QKZTIYwLgQclNsoil0VT2cfzAB4W-14x4k6DrWDM4FaJ4KvSOO6-7ZpNNAJzfYacJcZ6yriZ2b-kSzGq1_SG03f1-BQ0DC3wlALdb/s1600/250+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANOEQ4BrO2ugzRsnxNzk__yhlKBYkl9whzDK2cE8QKZTIYwLgQclNsoil0VT2cfzAB4W-14x4k6DrWDM4FaJ4KvSOO6-7ZpNNAJzfYacJcZ6yriZ2b-kSzGq1_SG03f1-BQ0DC3wlALdb/s320/250+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The Gateway Trail. From this vantage point 35E is about 30 feet to the right. You'd never know it.</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/AVvXsEgSnMEWYWzoU4R3USfwMi_02_1mZt66qG8pjALxHtlqTz_MtU2e3zdlKtkZNAOrE2kEnUQfTkN2ozxrarLcHisGUrNP-O7V4FWrlIjiwtcfOVHv2BrrsnJchX1JbEMN3vMYfK0-fn8BFWhx/s1600/240+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnMEWYWzoU4R3USfwMi_02_1mZt66qG8pjALxHtlqTz_MtU2e3zdlKtkZNAOrE2kEnUQfTkN2ozxrarLcHisGUrNP-O7V4FWrlIjiwtcfOVHv2BrrsnJchX1JbEMN3vMYfK0-fn8BFWhx/s320/240+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Down by St. Anthony Falls</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/AVvXsEhqjp7WgwtuKr7lKOrcpBQjjxyB9EVlWkK2ykv0sbNwYmKW0UuiATA02brE7Af2pv9TiYQXvMtiPXLhu4Ac9vkmeKS7T_iugF2so6-6Hirt5AVDou1ug8Sm4TDZ1x9AMOBiGW1JqTXqFFx3/s1600/243+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjp7WgwtuKr7lKOrcpBQjjxyB9EVlWkK2ykv0sbNwYmKW0UuiATA02brE7Af2pv9TiYQXvMtiPXLhu4Ac9vkmeKS7T_iugF2so6-6Hirt5AVDou1ug8Sm4TDZ1x9AMOBiGW1JqTXqFFx3/s320/243+-+Copy.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Smoke stacks that I thought looks pretty cool in Minneapolis</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8BV5eOCTdVw3ab8lUb_YlzYctek9uShgQCDbIh2OyjB-HquoJVw5VUhjsp1wP1aDaAlJFIT2dquYigTPW2HqOx3Nnp4s_Y95xNmhM4hB9g3SiBTOb_jQdZI8WF5Sj3cWunEoVpZjSM75/s1600/248+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8BV5eOCTdVw3ab8lUb_YlzYctek9uShgQCDbIh2OyjB-HquoJVw5VUhjsp1wP1aDaAlJFIT2dquYigTPW2HqOx3Nnp4s_Y95xNmhM4hB9g3SiBTOb_jQdZI8WF5Sj3cWunEoVpZjSM75/s320/248+-+Copy.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">A random little lighthouse that I didn't know existed but thought was cool anyway</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/AVvXsEhhe3cy9nByESZGHwZH8DkwKsm_DC5oUkyMFT1ePjIDZO-XwI-R9RItBW6OBxNArun0fC2fuTaernYqMA3e8dN_FNs0epqxb7nk3RkMm_8nI9BPUU6dlf0D-R9Jy4LOLe9-CcopgnWyspsm/s1600/245+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhe3cy9nByESZGHwZH8DkwKsm_DC5oUkyMFT1ePjIDZO-XwI-R9RItBW6OBxNArun0fC2fuTaernYqMA3e8dN_FNs0epqxb7nk3RkMm_8nI9BPUU6dlf0D-R9Jy4LOLe9-CcopgnWyspsm/s320/245+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> One of my favorite Twin Cities landmarks</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/AVvXsEh8M33PVD-xyXwai0YAHl9AYHAU-IbSHqsyinyCPmFSKTkcKx16PR6mx9mONBV8xt3N0G1x-L8ECYnAZvY8HiaIVf5LD2FMCS1VfOiOasUMJrYvzX4JN-dRfb403eH7I2l8cPSOmjyNjsSf/s1600/249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8M33PVD-xyXwai0YAHl9AYHAU-IbSHqsyinyCPmFSKTkcKx16PR6mx9mONBV8xt3N0G1x-L8ECYnAZvY8HiaIVf5LD2FMCS1VfOiOasUMJrYvzX4JN-dRfb403eH7I2l8cPSOmjyNjsSf/s320/249.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Bridges all lined up. (you can see the Hennepin Ave bridge, 3rd Ave bridge and if you look REALLY close, the Stone Arch bridge in the distance.)</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/AVvXsEiRXFZCleA81eNCtKuYyB-taVoetMe4L00EOEgL1n5KWoOwv_-AHgUTzlonx2pbrGdSNzhUlXFyOi9_ylTlKvkWzNv7GcNpBDR93l7nEYPYP_dHqWpGQW7oZbsA_HmFRQRPKgdI-FHV0X2r/s1600/237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXFZCleA81eNCtKuYyB-taVoetMe4L00EOEgL1n5KWoOwv_-AHgUTzlonx2pbrGdSNzhUlXFyOi9_ylTlKvkWzNv7GcNpBDR93l7nEYPYP_dHqWpGQW7oZbsA_HmFRQRPKgdI-FHV0X2r/s320/237.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">That's my city.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-89749170248075332422011-04-22T22:12:00.000-05:002011-04-22T22:12:08.462-05:00Ice TripA little over a week ago I went and got myself a car wash. I was thinking about it anyway because after a winter of salt and grime and what not my car was looking more beige than silver. Even when it's clean it's really in-between the two. Still, it looked really, really beige. <br />
<br />
Then when I was getting gas the auto fill thingy didn't stop when it was supposed to and ended up dumping what I'm estimating was about a dollar fifty worth of gas (so really not that much. Ha! Topical sarcasm!) on to the ground. So then my car also smelled like gas. Car wash was a must. <br />
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Part of the wash was some kind of Rain-X sealer thing at the end. So when it snowed a few days later (of course) and then more or less immediately melted there was still water in little pools all over my car. it ended up getting cold enough to frost overnight and it created some of the coolest, weirdest looking frost I've ever seen.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR90-Cj-E8EGZsPPoE_5Op1MJm9AJzAA-oMzg__ESh540Y0dPILJfS52zsDommeXVl1WiCEz8n8KRQXptcPWAmlYKzFd3YvIKir0C2sPYqH36ctoqN3UmNVflqfQE28oEzOGYBkAWyXNn6/s1600/DSCN5538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR90-Cj-E8EGZsPPoE_5Op1MJm9AJzAA-oMzg__ESh540Y0dPILJfS52zsDommeXVl1WiCEz8n8KRQXptcPWAmlYKzFd3YvIKir0C2sPYqH36ctoqN3UmNVflqfQE28oEzOGYBkAWyXNn6/s320/DSCN5538.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The trunk of my car all looked like this. These were the bigger of the puddles really. The roof and the hood of my car was covered in much smaller puddles that had some really funky frost crystals developing on and between them.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEnZUjft0fVBk6JFzljKMbOiCR-URvB9ZWB4_hzmpgteebsOB2SksITceJbH9_zoA1KlmElwuRWrXj2OFb0BiTSlB0OMDvMSkZ_VWZfOdUwIs1Xkz07G2h0AuBV1HlMGpIntZb1C9IxYe/s1600/DSCN5536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEnZUjft0fVBk6JFzljKMbOiCR-URvB9ZWB4_hzmpgteebsOB2SksITceJbH9_zoA1KlmElwuRWrXj2OFb0BiTSlB0OMDvMSkZ_VWZfOdUwIs1Xkz07G2h0AuBV1HlMGpIntZb1C9IxYe/s320/DSCN5536.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This was on the back window of my car. I like how the tinting on the window gives the edges a light blue effect.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPKG_Cs30widFRwLSYg3O9-u_t-_kBBPbh94abGXD20C6JFt_riazw26PFvT_OW2fOABUYggzM3wmrs5eE3AkrCSm5gkmIwms1oYczzdaLQmCv636irNUNBg5sT-izlEZgoBb5EQCtTyP/s1600/DSCN5537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPKG_Cs30widFRwLSYg3O9-u_t-_kBBPbh94abGXD20C6JFt_riazw26PFvT_OW2fOABUYggzM3wmrs5eE3AkrCSm5gkmIwms1oYczzdaLQmCv636irNUNBg5sT-izlEZgoBb5EQCtTyP/s320/DSCN5537.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is a close-up of one of the bigger puddles on the trunk. I'm not saying, I'm just saying - that's a freaking cool picture in my opinion. One of the things I really like about all of these is that they look black and white, but really they're just white and grey on other grey.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZoVvmwCttQccsOxTD14-lr7xjXzeU2k92DGYSdJjAlggBNvsa9ySHGhQNvNTWym9v5zihniyJIHki6UXMSwIulkF8IWgpu2T4gWd-g8S-aT3lHmnaqaltekwb1G6gvTJlwiVnvhzZXID/s1600/DSCN5533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZoVvmwCttQccsOxTD14-lr7xjXzeU2k92DGYSdJjAlggBNvsa9ySHGhQNvNTWym9v5zihniyJIHki6UXMSwIulkF8IWgpu2T4gWd-g8S-aT3lHmnaqaltekwb1G6gvTJlwiVnvhzZXID/s320/DSCN5533.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is on the hood of the car. How cool is that? It's like there were hundreds of little mohawks all over my car.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-QwIpX1WyayhcSjFYJrUtZ6ukZx-_Nm0-0wya9EGuQvbc7NLAlw7rgUUQGqWtXw83h80UMRW64Oy_ih7DgvuSM2TycCEwyEMI44MrPSn7n8ZJjmKeD5A3AcT280VQJPHUf8u9NDi8f6kA/s1600/DSCN5534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-QwIpX1WyayhcSjFYJrUtZ6ukZx-_Nm0-0wya9EGuQvbc7NLAlw7rgUUQGqWtXw83h80UMRW64Oy_ih7DgvuSM2TycCEwyEMI44MrPSn7n8ZJjmKeD5A3AcT280VQJPHUf8u9NDi8f6kA/s320/DSCN5534.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> No seriously. I get that it's ice and by all accounts I should have just been annoyed with it (and I kind of was, I hate scraping my windows with a passion) but it just looked so freaking cool.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0oUw73pjvup2kwH6E6tkE5i4mJPwkoXgf14IQd2qzRxQcePlftuwHFGhRJ-z9Nl72ZZca-yttVsM0V-yS-8pyrYnAexVwjW5nJ9kqsK4E2L-yNxSp6v-MDgRlqC444n0Y4XHKh5A5AjBw/s1600/DSCN5535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0oUw73pjvup2kwH6E6tkE5i4mJPwkoXgf14IQd2qzRxQcePlftuwHFGhRJ-z9Nl72ZZca-yttVsM0V-yS-8pyrYnAexVwjW5nJ9kqsK4E2L-yNxSp6v-MDgRlqC444n0Y4XHKh5A5AjBw/s320/DSCN5535.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Come on. Ice crystals. Growing upward. <i>On my car. </i>Okay... so maybe that's really only enough explanation for me to be fascinated with it... That's fair. But the point it I <i>was </i>fascinated by it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then while I was playing around with a couple of these in Photoshop I started noticing that maybe, if I started playing around with some filters and colors, messed around with the contrast a little bit...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These could be seriously trippy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And well... I like trippy.</div><a name='more'></a>So... yeah...<br />
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</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you take that photo of the puddles on the trunk of the car and throw the solarize filter on it, you get this</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0PMOIzsuL-sWw9gmppzWPfg0W3g_g7Ts2WiK_yiq1sQAnRP1tXu8OrdPxGfueVzciYeX-k4zbgn_zuHKfWkJQvLvW7nqgdragpXYUom9ACb8T3JuLycfcClrvwZwrZNCzzAo5n1NyyMV/s1600/DSCN5538-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0PMOIzsuL-sWw9gmppzWPfg0W3g_g7Ts2WiK_yiq1sQAnRP1tXu8OrdPxGfueVzciYeX-k4zbgn_zuHKfWkJQvLvW7nqgdragpXYUom9ACb8T3JuLycfcClrvwZwrZNCzzAo5n1NyyMV/s320/DSCN5538-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Which kind of looks like the first frames on the screen they show when they start playing Jefferson Airplane music.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And well if you take that solarized picture and change the neutrals to bright green and then adjust the brightness and contrast...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh673uSg3aV_aw7_1VaZmcpEVKyv3aHPAxjNjHKY0vPxj74NUNhIiMZD9DbOWfLEYVTsgd5mJ72jby7nUKyjrpF5h2Eu0DcIgImJsUOVzfP_QE0_ZoM8YU1cJdnptnBBfyHWND3FXAxx-UQ/s1600/DSCN5538-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh673uSg3aV_aw7_1VaZmcpEVKyv3aHPAxjNjHKY0vPxj74NUNhIiMZD9DbOWfLEYVTsgd5mJ72jby7nUKyjrpF5h2Eu0DcIgImJsUOVzfP_QE0_ZoM8YU1cJdnptnBBfyHWND3FXAxx-UQ/s320/DSCN5538-3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You get the middle of the video they play while playing Jefferson Airplane music. Or Crimson and Clover by Tommy James & the Shondells...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And if you take the window picture and mess around with the selective color and the contrast and whatnot and you get this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzree5YURaPAux_k0tvV1WxQYUtodKWGBJZQ1b0NIpwDl-EOXyQrwQlZdPSVBhqcOOODicmUuyiF-17wj4YJYWYiHVBvFVS1vx_zW8vQeX8ebjK7orQIwafu0-037-ABGKMhGMGsKlia2B/s1600/DSCN5536-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzree5YURaPAux_k0tvV1WxQYUtodKWGBJZQ1b0NIpwDl-EOXyQrwQlZdPSVBhqcOOODicmUuyiF-17wj4YJYWYiHVBvFVS1vx_zW8vQeX8ebjK7orQIwafu0-037-ABGKMhGMGsKlia2B/s320/DSCN5536-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Which I don't even know what it looks like but I think it looks pretty cool. And trippy. Which is what I was going for.</div><br />
Then I started playing with one of the pictures of the hood of the car. Started out using selective color to make the neutrals and blacks a dark green and... well... I mean... I think Fox Mulder would be interested in this.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwbnKBHbWZNqHcIoob7STDgbKuFwNztuUtVKokCi2CJFYbgaDjLUPR8VHEgNJl9F-W4-_IZIK-mvR_6yboOo0_z8bO2S0UZ5Q_tFwqNHA9CIhPqmX4VsY_oKoHCO6LGdt7kGNUUYeTLgH/s1600/DSCN5535-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwbnKBHbWZNqHcIoob7STDgbKuFwNztuUtVKokCi2CJFYbgaDjLUPR8VHEgNJl9F-W4-_IZIK-mvR_6yboOo0_z8bO2S0UZ5Q_tFwqNHA9CIhPqmX4VsY_oKoHCO6LGdt7kGNUUYeTLgH/s320/DSCN5535-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cause... doesn't that kind of look like it could be an alien landscape? ... Just me? Fine. I'm pretty sure I think it looks like it could be an alien landscape though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then I just had lots of fun playing with the color on the close-up of the puddle. To the point where I couldn't decide which one I liked best. So I went with all of them together...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlF75lbVlTSZ95pMb7L-hQOvRbu9PbdmnSPSwZtyrKmJYmWsJtqPMhePOtkV82vTKfY0DUe-BAX5ESapG0VX0Dtk5OqGOuCP9h5xysHSsL3HNRgnL9TadAewpI-uqJajtOwsgXzU9BivXW/s1600/IceTrip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlF75lbVlTSZ95pMb7L-hQOvRbu9PbdmnSPSwZtyrKmJYmWsJtqPMhePOtkV82vTKfY0DUe-BAX5ESapG0VX0Dtk5OqGOuCP9h5xysHSsL3HNRgnL9TadAewpI-uqJajtOwsgXzU9BivXW/s320/IceTrip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Which I just might end up printing out and putting on my wall. Cause I likes it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So there you go. I hope I triggered a few acid flashbacks. The good kind anyway. If you start seeing bats, that's bad news. Turn back. Don't wait until people start turning into lizards and stuff.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5551699077210621941.post-57622080253435128722011-04-21T21:13:00.000-05:002011-04-21T21:13:06.189-05:00April 20 - Or Why Yesterday Was Bound To Be Terrible.I would like to start this by pointing out that roughly a week ago it was around 80 degrees outside and I seriously considered buying a pair of shorts. (Then I remembered I hate shorts so decided against it.)<br />
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This is what waited when I walked out the door yesterday morning:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCNmKN77ISniKBi0D4FtV3l-xThoZHNCtjaJeZpJ-JD6Clx4oJizMDV4EaTeE6fr1bDH9Mh4B2NWiKh3IDmZqFX4ffjCySaCWPJuBuXi1Ut0AHjr7lpnOqzb7aCdMVkjb2QWzW19wDLJl/s1600/April+20+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCNmKN77ISniKBi0D4FtV3l-xThoZHNCtjaJeZpJ-JD6Clx4oJizMDV4EaTeE6fr1bDH9Mh4B2NWiKh3IDmZqFX4ffjCySaCWPJuBuXi1Ut0AHjr7lpnOqzb7aCdMVkjb2QWzW19wDLJl/s320/April+20+2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></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/AVvXsEiSgWAFgnL4Q2T6Ej0qzO6v3x5vLdt3FovI30uLH0J9Lhfxq0MRjsuYg9IrUyATTe9yHPNmzajtnz02Dkum9YD9JsQJTW1GRZoiNCDkdpMUYkFZD93ve4sbiDs_OI8msRqxIHjXgzCMVfnr/s1600/April+21+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSgWAFgnL4Q2T6Ej0qzO6v3x5vLdt3FovI30uLH0J9Lhfxq0MRjsuYg9IrUyATTe9yHPNmzajtnz02Dkum9YD9JsQJTW1GRZoiNCDkdpMUYkFZD93ve4sbiDs_OI8msRqxIHjXgzCMVfnr/s320/April+21+2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now they say a picture is worth a thousand words so maybe this goes without saying, but I made it about two steps out the door and said, out loud, "son of a BITCH."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Like seriously - I'm not sure whatever allowed this to happen understands... It was gone. It was all gone. There was no more snow. The snow all went away. The grass was green. We had a bonafide thunderstorm. NOT thunder<u>snow</u>. No, no. A real, normal, not totally weird thunderstorm. It was lovely. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Don't get me wrong, I knew a lot of girls in high school who had to wear snow boots to their prom in May. This is not the latest-in-the-season snow storm I've ever dealt with.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That doesn't make it less annoying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So if it hadn't been so damn pretty I would have been really pissed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13968052681840476507noreply@blogger.com0