tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6424193110816984392024-02-19T19:37:18.204-07:00It's Me, Andrea"I often give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it." Alice in WonderlandAndrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.comBlogger431125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-70243077798266594282013-09-23T21:55:00.002-06:002013-09-23T22:06:48.198-06:00Thing 2 of 642: A Houseplant is Dying... I saw it coming for some time, but I guess never really wanted to admit it. As I think back on the experience - I can't believe I ignored what was going on in front of me. It seems so obvious now; the drooping shoulders, the withered demeanor, a general air of desperate solemnity.<br />
<br />
"Come on, perk up..." I'd say as I walked by it's little place near the window on my way out the door to some other very important this or that, "It can' t be all that bad."<br />
<br />
And maybe some days it wasn't all that bad. Perhaps some days when the sun was gleaming just so through the window, or particularly, when it was refreshed with a few loving mists from the squirt bottle and a healthy serving of tap water, things looked up!<br />
<br />
"You're right..." it seemed to say, "I guess it's pretty okay sometimes!"<br />
<br />
"See?" I'd respond, "I told you."<br />
<br />
Inevitably however, the days between loving mists grew longer, the curtains remained drawn, and the drooping shoulders and solemnity returned. It became another fixture among the dusty picture frames, watching as shadows passed before its face day in and day out.<br />
<br />
Then, on a particularly sunny sort of day, while casting my shadow across the length of the end table where I had decided it was high time to get some things cleaned around here, I was dismayed to see Houseplant almost nothing but a whisper of green, yellow, and some dry twigs. Some of its little leaves were spread before it like the graphic remains of a zombie attack. It seemed to give off a yellowish hue and trembled a little at the sight of Atticus the Cat.<br />
<br />
"Houseplant?" I started trembling as I approached it's little perch, "Houseplant!??"<br />
<br />
I set down my Pledge and drew closer to it's withered body... gently drawing back the curtains.<br />
<br />
"Houseplant!!!"<br />
<br />
I rushed to the sink to fill up my squirt bottle. A little mist would brighten its day! A little mist always helped when it looked it's most disheartened... it's most despondent.<br />
<br />
Squirt! Squirt! Squirt!<br />
<br />
"Come on Houseplant!"<br />
<br />
Squirt! Squirt! Squirt!<br />
<br />
"Come on Houseplant! It can't be.... all that... "<br />
<br />
A leaf detached from the body and floated to the floor.<br />
<br />
"Houseplant!!"<br />
<br />
What could I do? What could I say? It was all my fault. ALL my fault I tell you! How neglectful I'd been. How selfish! How could I have let this happen? Why couldn't I see this coming??!<br />
<br />
But I had... I had seen it coming. Every day as I walked passed Houseplant to another important this and a more important that, houseplant had been there... withering... hopeful... eager... dying... and I would think, "I'll water houseplant tomorrow. I'll open the blinds too."<br />
<br />
But... for Houseplant... there were a hundred tomorrow's. A hundred broken promises.<br />
<br />
And now...Houseplant may be out of tomorrow's.<br />
<br />
NO! I wouldn't give up!<br />
<br />
I tenderly gathered up Houseplant in my trembling hands, carried it to the sink, set it in the bottom, and gently, oh so gently, turned the tap on to just a whisper of a trickle.<br />
<br />
Water seeped into Houseplant and, I don't know if it was the rush of the water or a fool's hope, but I thought I saw Houseplant perk up a bit... reach for the water... drink deeply. Yes, I would leave it in it's little bowl of bliss all day, basking in that life giving nectar and then, so so tenderly, place it back on a mightily dusted end table to bask in the sun's glorious rays among the lemony scent of disinfectant.<br />
<br />
"You will live, Houseplant. You will! I'll never neglect you again!"<br />
<br />
Houseplant had been revived! I thought of all the glorious experiences we'd have together. The sunny days! The droplets of water! The feeling that if I could keep a plant alive, surely I could keep children alive! I could climb mountains! I could rule the WORLD!<br />
<br />
Yes! Today dawned a new day for me and Houseplant. No more would the curtains remain drawn! No more would those shoulders droop or those limbs detach from the body! No more I say!<br />
<br />
As I walked Houseplant back to it's perch, Atticus the Witless Wonder of a Fuzz-footed Dumby, and notably the most under-footed cat on the planet, hunkered his fuzz-butt down directly in front of Houseplant and I's dance towards a new dawn and within a few precious seconds...<br />
<br />
ATTICUS!!<br />
<br />
TRIP! GRAPPLE!<br />
<br />
CRASH!!<br />
<br />
EXPLODE!<br />
<br />
MEOW! HISS!<br />
<br />
Houseplant... was no more. Oh sweet hope... thou fickle fiend! Oh dreams dashed! Oh days numbered! Oh moronic feline who does not deserve the name Atticus J. Finch esquire!<br />
<br />
I swept up the splattered remains and silently placed the shattered, damp, brownish green body into the trash. I looked at it's still perky leaves... it's stringy roots... and remembered.<br />
<br />
After giving Atticus a swift kick, I got out my shopping list.<br />
<br />
1. Deodorant<br />
2. Eggs<br />
3. Cat litter<br />
4. New Houseplant...<br />
<br />
No.... it didn't seem right...<br />
<br />
1. Deodorant<br />
2. Eggs<br />
3. Cat litter<br />
4. ... ... ... Cactus<br />
<br />
You win some, you lose some, you learn some, and you kick some. Kick 'em soundly.Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-39246431029072418432013-09-18T21:47:00.001-06:002013-09-18T22:03:43.276-06:00642 Things to Write AboutI just remembered I had a blog. Like, just now. What happened to my bloggery spirit, you ask? Truth be told, I don't know. It just wasn't my jam anymore, know what I mean? It's like, when you stopped shopping at PacSun or realized you haven't had cable TV for 3 years and it's not even a thing. You just... move along.<br />
<br />
Buuuuut, I'm clearly back so I guess it isn't that simple. I think I just ran out of things to say. FALSE! I always have something to say - I just ran out of the gumption to write about it. And THAT, I decided, was not acceptable. Not unlike using the word gumption. Clearly, I'm out of practice.<br />
<br />
So here I am! No promises. No commitments. But blogging again never the less 9 months later. Though this round, I've decided I need a little more structure. I felt my blogging was cycling along with all other bloggers and THEN I started to feel pressure to start DIY'ing which I don't do. I just go to the store and buy a quilt or sassy side table, ya know? I feel there is so much "access" out there through Facebook and tweets...Flixter, Instagram, Pinterest, cellular devices, that we're in a state of constant "plug in" and also fall into a trap of unrealistic comparison. No longer can we just attempt to keep up with Mr. and Mrs. Jones down the street - but we see hundreds of Joneses all over this good earth always baking more, traveling further, DIY'ing, and living just ahead of everyone else in the world. It's exhausting! I don't care for it.<br />
<br />
What does that have to do with structure you ask? Well.<br />
<br />
Last November I bought a book entitled "642 Things to Write About" because I wanted to start the creative writing juices flowing. My writing didn't used to be restricted to an Inbox or agenda item. Even crafting a well researched paper on organizational leadership allowed for some creativity, in a way. And lately, I just feel like I need to work on something for no other reason than I like it and want to be better at it. Is that so wrong? I didn't think so either.<br />
<br />
Thus, I'm beginning 1 of 642 things to write about because I want to practice writing. And I thought, well, this blog is already here, might as well dust it off and use it!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>What can happen in a second</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>1 of 642 Things to Write About</i></div>
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I blink in a second</div>
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Most blink in a second</div>
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The light in a second</div>
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Answers in a second</div>
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Crashing in a second</div>
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Heart broken in a second</div>
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Tap in a second</div>
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Start in a second</div>
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Finish in a second</div>
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Two words in a second</div>
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Yes! In a second!</div>
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Just a second. </div>
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Give me a second.<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.erinvaledesign.com/.a/6a010536340e31970b017c375c471a970b-550wi" /></div>
Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-75609811192625609402013-01-29T22:34:00.002-07:002013-01-29T22:34:58.445-07:00Wintry Hell of 2013<div style="text-align: center;">
Every day since I can remember...</div>
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Then realizing it's still only January...</div>
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I don't recall the taste of strawberries...</div>
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Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-87757775922407716382013-01-20T20:02:00.004-07:002013-01-20T20:07:19.794-07:00Faint, Puke, or Die... starting tomorrowSo, at the weekly worship service today, we had what we call a Mingle after the traditional 3-hour block. I've not attended a family ward in many many years, but in a Singles ward this means there is some sort of sustenance provided for ward members every 3-4 weeks with the idea that we will sit together and build ward comradery and in the case of Singles wards, talk to someone of the opposite sex with whom we would like to consider for eternal matrimony. Nothing says forever like a pasta line or potato bar, am I right?<br />
<br />
Today we had such a Mingle and the food provided fluctuates from legitimate meals to dessert or snacky type selections. Cinnamon Rolls, HUGE Cinnamon Rolls, and hot chocolate was on the menu today. Now listen, I'm not one to complain about my Ward preparing and providing free food, in fact I encourage it! But I also am aware that the Holidays amongst other life things over the last 3 months has not been kind to my physical appearance, that is to say, I'm one chubby bunny.<br />
<br />
It happens.<br />
<br />
So having even half the cinnamon roll and cup of hot chocolate with accompanying marshmallows I did wasn't the most thought out decision if I truly I'm trying to get back on the "feel better about my self and at least pretend like you care" wagon. To further this sense of sugar-guilt, a wardy I was sitting by felt compelled to tell me there is some Ward Activity in the works that will involve hot springs. And if it involves hot springs, it will involve... oh dear heaven above... wearing a swim suit. Wearing a swim suit among many other singles wearing a swim suit who all have the same goal in mind - to become NOT single in 2013.<br />
<br />
The. Pressure. Is. On.<br />
<br />
Mid-March, apparently, is the time frame I'm working under. It's time to get serious about getting dead sexy. What? Lets not beat around the bush - sure I look "meh" in some jeans and baggy sweatshirt now - but THOSE days are about to end (thank heavens, we've been living in a icy hell), and soon it will be time to show what your mama gave ya! At least... some of what mama gave ya. And mama didn't give no love-handles and saddle bags. Mmm hmmm. No sir.<br />
<br />
Thus, starting TOMORROW it's time to get serious. It's not that I haven't been going to the gym and making an attempt to eat better - but those efforts have been half-butted (what? Remember how I'm not swearing anymore? This is what's left - butted). No more of THAT! If I'm not going to faint, puke, or DIE... then I am not working hard enough. Tomorrow begins my first attempt at fainting or puking... I'll leave the dying for when I finally can buy a pass for Bikram Yoga. Dear Tax Return, chop chop. I've got a deadline.<br />
<br />
So if they're any secrets, thoughts, advice, or suggestions you have that would make me truly commit to becoming the next Jillian Michaels, don't hesitate to share!<br />
<br />
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<br />Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-71993082329572157942013-01-13T20:43:00.002-07:002013-01-13T20:43:23.976-07:00Raising the Bar on Resolutions - 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So though I've become a blogging failure in general, I can at least say I maintain general bloggery consistency with posting on those occasions which all good bloggers post, like Thankful lists on Thanksgiving, some pictures of a Summer Vacation that makes me look more exciting than I am, Birthday reflections/laments, and New Year's Resolutions. When the universe hands you a blogging idea - you can't just say no - not to the Universe at any rate. I mean, it's the UNIVERSE. Plus, since I don't blog about recipes or food stuffs, post millions of pictures of my kids no one else cares about, marital anything (ya know, cause I'm SINGLE), or DIY's, you could say I'm not even a "real" blogger anyway. Just someone who checks in once in awhile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps one day I'll go nuts and invite my super best girlfriends to a DIY picture frames for those millions of oober unique kid pictures featuring just their legs or the top of their head with a big red balloon or their first doodie in the big kids toilet and we'll eat "and they're good for you!" mini-kale brownies of which I will document from egg carton to my "totally found this plate at a garage sale and then spent only 6 hours stenciling vintage birds and branches on its surface", complete with recipe and open mouthed pictures of my super best girlfriends eating them with surprise and excitement. Doodie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But... I digress... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">New Year's Resolutions! I actually have some. And they're actually legitimate. So that's pretty big in and of itself. After my stark realization that my brain/soul/happiness suck was attached to a very negative environment, suddenly what once seemed to take too much energy and enthusiasm (like New Years Resolutions... and life) actually seem appealing, nay EXCITING! So let's begin with the recap... and go from there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">2012 Resolution Recap - or Wow, there was something seriously wrong with me. </span></u></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1. Come-up with more creative titles for my lists <b>- </b><i>Sure! Check! I can't believe this was my #1 Resolution for 2012. Doesn't bode well - does it? The depression deepens</i><b>...</b></span></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;" /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">2. Stop calling my Internet friend(s) morons...<b> </b><i>Well, you may have to be the judge of that Internet friends... but I'm pretty sure I kept my moron calling to my real friends. So... check!</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">3. Run that *&!%$!! half marathon or stop setting it as a goal - <i>Okay so... like I signed up and like... didn't do it. BUT! I DID do a Sprint Triathlon so I think this is a half check because uh... Triathlons are hard! </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">4. Grow my hair out to my shoulders but keep the bangs... something rather Zooey DeChanel-esque <b> - </b><i>Oh it's getting there. I know I should give you photo-proof - but I look like crap right now PLUS my hair is a in a pony tail. You hear that?!?! Pony tail! Yay.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">5. Set better goals for self-improvement than "growing my hair out"<b> - </b><i>That's about to happen! Super CHECK!</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">6. Travel to a few more places I've never been.<b> -</b><i> CHECK! So this goal was actually not depressing and I actually accomplished it! Good for me! I ventured to Washington D.C, New York, and North Carolina. In fact, as per the goal, I'd never been to New York in my life and ended up going twice in 6 months! Good for me! CHECK!</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">7. Work on that novel. And I mean really work on that novel.<b> </b><i>Fail. But to be fair, clearly I was pretty depressed. Which means creativity suck. Which means it wasn't my fault. You hear me? Sob! I did get a book entitled 642 things to write about to get the juices flowing though. So perhaps I'll start using it! Eh? EH? I'm getting ahead of myself.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;" /></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">8. Make the Summer of 2012 the most campingest, outdoorsy, non-schooled summer I've ever experienced! - <i>I'm pretty sure I didn't go camping once. No not once. Alas.</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><b><br /></b></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">9. End Lazy Period and do stuff - <i>Eventually yes - this happened I'd say</i>.<b> </b><i>The Lazy Period sort of overlapped into the Dark Period which generally has the same lack of motivation effect - but I did start working out more. So... half check.</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><b><br /></b></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">10. Come on, get happy. By happy I mean content. By content I mean grateful. And by grateful I mean humble. - <i>I'd say this one probably goes on the "life-long" goal list. So... work in progress this one. But hopefully I'm closer today than I was yesterday.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The clear pattern with the above list and accomplishments... oh... I mean "accomplishments" is that I wasn't in any way trying to significantly and realistically progress in anyway. I think what that list innately conveys is "just maintain... just make it through... just push on" which lets be honest - that happens sometimes. Sometimes, all our faculties are focused on maintaining for awhile. And that's okay. Some progression isn't entirely quantifiable... but it does happen and those years are the best worst years of our lives. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">HOW-ever it's nice when the maintenance part is taking care of its own a little bit and you can look beyond just treading water to actually moving towards something. Taking some significant strokes if you will. So, regardless of the Resolution list to follow - I'm happy just to be excited about trying harder instead of just survival. 2013 is already a win! Duh.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b><u>Resolutions 2013 - or Raising the Bar</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">As lists go - I like them. I make them. I refer to them. I encourage others to do the same. I've now started categorizing my lists to further enable my OCD tendencies. Which, by the way, seem to be taking root a lot stronger. Old age. </span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qBETn6jjkriFPvA2AUjq065qzmU8QnquxwedlI2OOUYG8ze329Vgd7eCsnY9ADvUXr2khINShqRRSasL1iFOkDSBANMafR1zV68RPaloW_xvEYjpQ6Ge-zJ2jIbA4F9SLIUxGw1g3ew1/s1600/tumblr_m1e5h605dX1rqfhi2o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qBETn6jjkriFPvA2AUjq065qzmU8QnquxwedlI2OOUYG8ze329Vgd7eCsnY9ADvUXr2khINShqRRSasL1iFOkDSBANMafR1zV68RPaloW_xvEYjpQ6Ge-zJ2jIbA4F9SLIUxGw1g3ew1/s320/tumblr_m1e5h605dX1rqfhi2o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">Categories! </b><br />
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<ul>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><i>Spiritual</i></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><i>Financial</i></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><i>Physical</i></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><i>Personal</i></span></li>
</ul>
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<br />
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><b>Spiritual</b> - because if this isn't in line, first in line, and aligned (see what I did there? So smart), then nothing else will be.</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><b>Attend the <a href="http://www.lds.org/church/temples?lang=eng" target="_blank">LDS Temple</a> twice a month</b>. This I can do. This is #1! Much better than "think of better names for my lists." Eye roll.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><b>Do my <a href="http://www.mormonchannel.org/relief-society/visiting-teaching-message/18" target="_blank">Visiting Teaching</a> every month</b>. 100% baby! I got this!</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><b>Make time for a Spiritual thought, message, or scripture study in the MORNING</b>. There was one year where I was really good at this - and then - as tends to happen with all really good things - I fell out of the habit. Reflecting on that year, it was an incredibly busy and could've been a very stressful year as a wee Undergrad - but it wasn't. I made it. And I tell you it's because I made time for God in the mornings. So let it be written! So let it be done.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Stop Swearing</b>. HA! What? Listen, I'm not saying swearing is some horrible sinful act... but I realize I just shouldn't do it... as a word-smithy particularly. I can think of better things to say! I quote "Profanity is the act of a feeble mind trying to express itself forcibly..." David O. McKay. I will replace such words with ones like "Egad!" or "Holy Bananas!" Or "Drat!" but never, NEVER will you hear "fetch" come out of my mouth unless it is in reference to Gretchen Weiners. Just because I don't want to swear doesn't mean I'm some BYU Zoobie fool yelling out fetch and doing that stupid wrist snap thing they do. Noooooooo thank ya.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Be Still. </b>I've very much learned this year to let go, and let God. It's a hard one for me because I always like to be planning and moving and pushing forward with some concrete plan or adventure or idea. But sometimes, we should just do ourselves a favor and be still... let things go... let things happen. I'm working on this. </span></span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Financial</b></span></span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Pay off my University of Utah student loan</b> - this will be done by March!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Pay off my car - </b>July!!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Gulp... siiiigh... <b>reduce</b>... sniff... <b>clothes shopping</b>. :( I can't talk about it. It just... needs to be done. </span></span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Physical/Emotional Goals</b></span></span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Eat better</b> - so original! Specifically - I can only eat "out" two times a week and I'm really kicking the sugar to the curb. It's bad for you. So bad. </span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Train for.. are you ready? Here it comes... <a href="http://www.saltlakecitymarathon.com/" target="_blank">The Salt Lake City Half Marathon!</a></b> No listen, I'm doing it. April 20th. Look for me. Cause I'll be there!! Also - if someone wants to run it with me - I won't say no. In fact, I'll say "YES PLEASE!"</span></span></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Train for the <a href="http://www.sanrafaelclassic.com/" target="_blank">San Rafael Triathlon</a> AND - beat that swim</b>. Because I almost died in the swim - it beat me - but this year... I WILL beat it. Supplemental - I will beat my time by a full 5 minutes! Oh hey step up Boss!</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://www.bikramyogaslc.com/" target="_blank">Sign up for Bikram Yoga</a></b>. I'm excited about this'un! I've really needed something that helps me "center" myself, focus my thoughts, and I also wanted to do something I was really bad at. I am REALLY bad at Yoga. As the self-proclaimed least flexible person alive (or dead - a corpse is more flexible than I am) - this is TOUGH! It's double tough in a 120 degree room... but for some reason I really love it. So when the old tax return rolls in - there will be a sum set aside for Bikram Yoga. Namaste.</span></span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Personal Goals - because somethings can fit everywhere and no where</b></span></span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>I want to do this</b> - <a href="http://kaiizen.org/">http://kaiizen.org</a>/ Do you want to do this? If you want to do this - tell me and we'll do it. Together. I'd like India or Thailand - but will accept any.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Exercise greater mercy</b> - give people the benefit of the doubt. Always.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Find small ways to help people around me with small things</b>.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Never make anyone feel small</b>. Ever.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Take the GRE... so I can...</b></span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>Begin applying for PhD programs for Fall 2014</b>. Yep - I just threw that out there. It's time... already... hyperventilate. </span></span></li>
</ol>
</ol>
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<br />
And there you have it! I mean, if anything this year's resolutions are by far and away more ambitious and in every way more optimistic then that pathetic piddle I posted last year. Right? Right!!!?<br />
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RIGHT. Onward 2013! Onward... and upward. </div>
Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-22476135327980943772013-01-01T20:53:00.003-07:002013-01-01T21:00:51.304-07:00So Long, 2012! So long...2012. What a year, eh? Meh. I guess as years go - At first glance I wouldn't say it was particularly stand out sort of year. I went a few new places, but nothing to earth-shattering. However, upon closer inspection, I've discovered I've learned something very valuable this year. You might even say I've learned something about myself that will likely change my life henceforth. Isn't that exciting? Sure it is. Don't we all want to look back on what is past and see that we have moved forward from where we were? Changed somehow, ideally for the better? If you don't then you're either perfect in every way already (i.e. only Jesus can say that - so now you're a liar!) OR, a huge loser. So if you're Jesus, a liar, or a huge loser, this post may not hit home for you. Okay, Jesus probably gets it cause ya know... that's what He does, He "gets" things... but the other two groups - back to your video games and Manga comics! Go on, then.<br />
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What lessons did I learn this year? Well, several fold - but it all surrounds something called happiness. Or, to put a finer point on it, choosing happiness.<br />
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I learned this year that I'm not invincible... even if I'm choosing to be invincible... I can't be. I'm still human and therefore not only flawed in a myriad of ways, but also boasting a good amount of mortal weakness as well. That's probably why we love hero's - they rise above the "natural man" and do extraordinary things. They give us hope in our own potential. Of course, each of us struggle with things that perhaps someone else doesn't. Thus the need for patience and kindness towards each other - because don't we want others to be patient with our weaknesses? Oh that golden rule - always swooping in and making its point! And here's another point - because I'm not invincible, I have to choose my happiness. Chew on THAT gem while I explain myself...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Here is how I'm not invincible and thus, must choose my happiness:</u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
1. An overall positive environment is essential to my living a good life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
2. It's okay to choose my friends</div>
<br />
Let's talk.<br />
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1. I used to think I could handle any sort of situation because I've always been a very rational/logical person. I used to think I didn't let emotions get the better of me nor would I give up on anything just because it was "hard." There's pride for you. I've never dropped a class or given up or quit because the pressure was mounting. A very "do your worst, for I shall do mine!" sort of mentality. How very heroic - or so I thought. I thought giving up on anything was a weakness - and I wanted to be strong! Committed! See things through no matter what the odds! I would've gotten that ring to Mordor! Won the Hunger Games (or die... cause that's uh.. the rules)! Survived the Zombie Apocalypse! This seems like a good thing - doesn't it? Well, turns out, sometimes strength is knowing when to let things go - to know when it's time to choose a different route, to weigh your options and go down a path less traveled.<br />
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Strength is choosing your happiness by sometimes choosing to walk away. After all, happiness IS a choice, right? It's something we can choose to feel despite the circumstances around us. Easier. Said. Than. Done. But that doesn't make it any less true. Thus,<b> my realizing I require an overall positive environment to live a good life</b>. Positive environment can be defined in a lot of ways - physical environment, mental environments, spiritual environments, etc. When I say positive environment - I mean the aura, "vibe", overall "feel" of my physical surroundings need to be more positive than negative for me to truly thrive. I think most of us are like this - I just didn't think I was one of those. It's intrinsic and extrinsic. It's knowing the only person you can control is yourself. It's realizing that as much as you resist being effected by those around you - it wears you down. At least, I found out that despite my best intrinsic efforts - I was wearing down... slowly and steadily... wearing down. I found out that though I was trying my best to intrinsically "choose" happiness in a very negative environment, I was starting to slip. My surroundings were unearthing my intrinsic limits... turns out there actually was only so much I could take. I wasn't invincible after all... and was beginning to very acutely feel it. I was letting the vapors of gloom seep into my soul.<br />
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This environment was effecting every faucet of my life. What's crazy, is I didn't realize it until I was finally removed from that environment - plucked out of shadow and into the light. In this negative environment, I didn't want to participate in anything that I used to enjoy - I was always too exhausted to even stomach the idea of going for a run or being creative in any capacity or writing (see blog disappearance), discovering new hobbies or even summoning the energy to plan a nice relaxing weekend away. Everything around me was heavy - and I was having a hard time lifting anything "extra" beyond getting up and going through the steps each day. All my strength was laser focused on being patient... patient patient patient... controlled... and conquering the "natural man" of not giving up. I was battling my own weakness - my own lack of capacity to be surrounded by misery and choose happiness. I will tell you, most days I won that battle, but it didn't leave much left for anything else. Misery loves company - and I was beginning to be it's weekly lunch date.<br />
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In the end, the seams started to break, the rafters were buckling, and something needed to give... or I was going to join the ranks of Prozac dependents! Oh sunshine pills - cast thy rose colored glasses over my toiling soul! (Andrea original. Take that Shakespeare)<br />
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And then... give it did... but not in the nervous break down sort of way. I was mercifully removed from that environment and wouldn't you know it? Suddenly, I wanted to... well.. don't take this in some morbid "red flag" way... but I wanted to LIVE again! Not trudge through, but I suddenly got the energy to do those things I enjoyed doing and what's more, I even started setting meaningful goals again! Rather than seeing a goal as yet another burden I didn't have the energy for, I saw it as something exciting and attainable! The past month has been one of the brightest spots of my year! I had NO idea how deeply that negative environment was truly effecting me physically, mentally, emotionally, and physically until I was suddenly beyond it and saw a bright sun shining onto my world. It is bittersweet to be taken right to the very edge of your capacity... and even a little beyond it... and be saved by the tender understanding of an all-knowing God. And I tell you Internet, that's exactly what happened to me! <br />
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I also learned, there are things that you can't change - situations that just "are" - but having had this experience - I learned that I can choose how to contribute in the most positive way - to opt in or opt out of situations or scenarios that effect the little individual circle I'm standing in. Choosing to with hold rather than react.<br />
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Which leads to...<br />
<br />
<b>2. It's okay to choose my friends</b><br />
<br />
I always feel I've had a proclivity to become friends with anyone - and in fact- felt it was my Christian duty to be friends with one and all - no matter who they are, how they live, and what they choose. However, I've learned this year that I do not need to be blood-binding friends with everyone - that I don't need to automatically add every enjoyable conversationalist to my inner circle of comrades to let them know that I see them as my fellow-human. No, there is a separate internal "safe space" that I am not required to let everyone into. My Christian duty is to be kind, patient, charitable, generous, tolerant, a good example, sisterly, and all those other positive attributes that emulate the Christ in Christian, but I don't have to be every one's best friend - and I don't have to give up what's most important to me to accommodate less important things. I simply can't be every one's best friend and maintain my positive environment - or maintain the highest standard of who I know I am. Some influences and relationships, because of human weakness and capacity, just can not be - they can not go on. I've learned this several times this year in sometimes very painful ways. It's a tricky thing - human existence - but I think I'm starting to grasp a few things surrounding my little piece of existence.<br />
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I've also learned to prioritize my relationships: God, family (i.e. spouse when that happens), and good friends. That's how it lines up for me - so if family or friends are getting in the way of my relationship with God, then they must be cut loose. If friends or even other family members are getting in the way - or to put it more softly - negatively effecting my relationship with my spouse (you see the optimism already? It's almost PRESENT tense! Woah.), then they must be adjusted, distanced, and unfortunately if necessary, cut loose. I hope that doesn't sound too harsh. It's definitely a very difficult situation to navigate and many times, a sorrowful decision to cut someone loose because the relationship is not jiving with what's most important to me. I CAN choose happiness in the "have to deal with this for awhile situations" - but I also have a choice to put myself into certain situations and in relationships that would effect the balance of happiness in my life. Now that I know I'm not invincible - I can make more informed choices. You can only walk with someone so far, before you have to stop and let them carry on alone. I guess that's why God is God, because He is the only one that can walk with you the whole way.<br />
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2012 was a tough year -but a good sort of tough. No one wishes hard things to happen, but WHEN they do, you can be certain that you'll eventually look back and understand why it was how it was. I feel those kind of years are some of the greatest gifts life gives us. No year is a waste if you can say you're a little better than you were the year before.<br />
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So long, 2012! May I remember the lessons you've taught me and may 2013 be one of those really smooth sailing sort of years filled with sunshine and roses! And... dates. Good dates... ;) That lead to engagement and marriage. HURRAY!<br />
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<br />Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-73978377957860703572012-12-13T20:17:00.002-07:002012-12-13T20:17:56.548-07:00Let's Eat Some Pasta! Or, Look Who's Back from the Dead!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ahoy! Yes, it is I! You didn't know I was taking a bloggery hiatus did you? Well, neither did I, but there it is.<br />
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I've mentioned in previous posts my random bouts of creativity-suck that seem to happen periodically and as a result the bloggery world is not graced with my wisdom for sometimes several weeks... months even. I generally try to pin this down on spectacular busy busy busyness or, head exploding stress. See school for example. School will suck everything happy and creative and discretionary right out of you. You could say - its a soul sucker. Probably why I'm thinking I'll head back down that dark path soon - apparently all academics are also masochists. Makes sense - otherwise no one would get a PhD.<br />
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Aside...<br />
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This creativity-suck could mostly be attributed to those dark places we must go sometimes. It's like swimming with cement shoes - all you can think about is not getting pulled under.<br />
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But lately, I've felt the sunshine seep back into my soul! School had nothing to do with it because oh happy joy joy! I graduated from that soul suck over a year ago... after which I entered the "lazy period" and then one of those dreamy gray times where life's kind of floating about eerily. That generally happens right before... dun dun dun.. the dark zones. I also find you don't realize things are a soul suck or you've just waded through a personal dark zone until you close that chapter of your life and then look back - weeks, months, maybe so much as a year later and think, "yep... I was drowning and that's why I didn't blog, have motivation to do anything ever, and felt like the entire world was frozen and empty." Some things do that to you. And those things, though good for us in the long run, eventually need to be stamped out. Endured. And then squashed like a BUG! Enduring is a tricky word, isn't it? I think sometimes we don't really understand what it means until we've had a nice healthy round of endurance. Perhaps you long-distance runners can relate to this idea since you rely so heavily on endurance to finish the race. To push through because you know there's a finish line. You know after "x" amount of miles - you no longer have to endure. You've finished. You're done. Now for a big plate of pasta! It helps to know the end from the beginning.<br />
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I think what takes endurance to the next level is not knowing - but just having to believe that the finish line is there and that when you finally make it - there's a big plate of pasta waiting just for you. Not knowing how far you'll have to go, if that steep uphill climb is the last of them, hoping that around this corner, or this corner, or this corner, the finish line will appear in the not to far off distance and being disappointed again and again - that's when endurance takes on a whole new meaning - it's called faith. There's some choice in this I suppose. You can hop off the track - try and find a short cut or get lost in the winding streets or simply just plop your sad self down on the road. After so long, it just seems like there is no finish line, so what's to be done? I think this idea of endurance is something you can only wrap your head around once you've had to do it. Once you've decided to dig your feet in and decide no matter what lies ahead, you're not only going to keep at it, you're going to do it with whatever you've got. Even if that means walking sometimes to catch your breath. Slow progress is still progress after all.<br />
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Another excellent point! Enduring isn't just muddling through though is it? - it's trudging through! with character! Self-discipline, unfailing humility, a deep well of patience, turning the other cheek, long-suffering, not being reactionary, and reminding yourself that one day, you WILL look back and see the beginning from the end. That's when you'll know that what's more important than stretching across that finish line, is knowing you didn't push anyone down, stomp on anyone's toes, or cut any corners to get there. Even if your toes were stomped on, you were pushed down, and your claims for justice would've been completely acceptable - you restrained, you kept your wits about you, and you never let reaction dictate your actions. No. It's better to maintain your own self-respect in the long run than secure fleeting feelings of triumph because of one reactionary word, one justifiable quip, or one hearty slap to the face. SMACK! Even when you think that hearty slap would feel ohhhhh soooo goood.<br />
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I read something awhile ago that has completely changed my interactions with everyone I meet and gave me a new perspective on what it means to endure. It was particularly poignant when facing those who find happiness in the failures of others - those who during my own dark zones - were heavy burdens for me to bear. It is one word.. and that word is Genshai (GEN-shy), and it means that you should never treat another person in a manner that would make them feel small. This struck me in a very powerful way - it took the idea of "treat others how you want to be treated" and elevated it. Genshai is brotherly love and charity combined. It's purity of interaction and it allows us to walk a mile in each others shoes - it bounds us together in common experiences - and elevates us all to a higher plane. The timing of my discovery of this word helped me not only endure - but to endure without regret. I wasn't perfect - but I was aware and that awareness kept my self-respect in tact. And though there are many more races ahead, I think I will be able to endure them even a little bit longer and feel little bit lighter if I apply Genshai - that I will never treat anyone - and I emphasize ANYONE - in a way that would make them feel small.Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-77192491103116715072012-11-02T22:21:00.000-06:002012-11-02T22:28:51.047-06:00Man JobsAs many of you know, dating is usually a feast or famine sort of exercise. At least for moi, sometimes I'll suddenly have a lot ("a lot" in comparison to... say... the translucent hairy fat 30 something living in his parents basement who only ventures out to restock his Manga comic and Ding Dong supply... every three months) of dates (many of them first and once in awhile second dates) and then just as quickly, I will go months without so much as a nibble. At these times I redouble my efforts at the gym thinking it must be the love handles and nothing to do with my early disclosure as a self-proclaimed Trekkie. Ahem. Also, knowing that it's "famine time" and hoping the next round of "feast" will bring something a little more long-term say, 4 dates and a make out sort of long term (a girl has needs), I try and find ways to appreciate that good guy when he comes around.<br />
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THUS! Approaching probably the end of another "feast" sort of timeline and seeing the famine ahead, I've mentally made a list of things it would be nice to have a male companion around for. That only sounds like I want a man around to put him to work because I'd like a man around to put him to work. OR! Because when think of companionship - I think of sharing the load. "Shaaaare the loooooad" (two e-high fives and a thumbs up for whomever can name THAT obscure movie allusion). It also helps me remember to very much appreciate a man for his manly qualities by doing the man-jobs I'd like a man around to man-do. Man.<br />
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Observe<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">The Man List of Man-jobs I appreciate in a Man</span></u></b></div>
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<b>1. Taking out the garbag</b>e - I'm such a girl when it comes to taking out the garbage. I hold it away from me as far as I can, nose wrinkled, opposite wrist popped, scamper out to the trash, lift the lid by not touching as much of it as possible, toss in the bag of nasty, and then scamper off sniffling at the injustice of it all. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>2. Rolling the garbage to the curb</b> - see afore mentioned scamper and prance and sniffling. I don't like touching the garbage. It's grossy. It's garbage. Like, ew.</div>
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<b>3. Hauling in groceries</b> - I'm a wee sort of person and also somewhat lazy when it comes to taking more trips than I have to. Even when I SHOULD take more trips I try not to. So stringing groceries all the way up my arm, staggering to the door, fumbling with keys, and staggering in grunting under the load of 8 bags of groceries makes me inevidtibly long for the musuclar biceps and stamina of a man. A man who can haul in the groceries is the man of my heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>4. Reaching things - I can't reach things</b>. Or, I can't reach things without my stool. Yes, I have a stool. Back off. I look forward to the day when I can say with a sweet smile and bat of my eyelashes, "Dearest, will you reach that very high bowl on the second shelf for me? You're so tall... er than 5'1." Giggle.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>5. Unscrewing things</b> - given<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>6. Outside jobs</b> - particularly ones that involve bushes or dead foliage that could house spiders. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>7. Killing spiders</b> - Be a man! Kill a Spider! And win my affections for all eternity. And possibly a home made t-shirt with that very mantra.</div>
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<b>8. Lifting heavy things and moving them over there and then back again just to see how it looks</b>. Do you know how LONG it takes me to move things - heavy things? It's because it takes me double the trips (and you know how I feel about multiple trips), not to mention a wall nick, stubbed toe, or bruised shin, it would take a manly sort of man to accomplish. This extends to moving "tall" things that may not be heavy, but because they are large in general, sure put up a fight! In fact, I had to call a man friend to help me haul a mattress up some stairs that I tell you Internet I tried and tried and tried to navigate myself and simply could not DO IT. The two of us though - mainly him - we moved that mattress like it's never been moved before! That's what she said. OH! Snap!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>9. Checking on that weird noise in the backyard/basement/bathroom/sunroom/bedroom...</b> Currently, I just turn on the TV to drown out any indicator of potential home invaders, rapists, zombies, etc. If I can't hear it - it doesn't exist sort of psychology. But with a man and perhaps a sturdy bat, my mind would be put much more at ease in a more practical sort of way. Gasp! I heard something... will you go check? I'll dial 9 then 1 then wait to press 1 if you scream! </div>
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<b>10. Anything to do with my car.</b> I don't like messing with my car. Sure, I could learn to jump my car or change a tire. In fact, as an independent woman living on my own, by heaven it's my Super Woman DUTY (and just plain common sense) to learn how to do those things. But I feel that would take away a very manly job from a man who wants to show his man-ness! And who am I to take that opportunity away from a man? Add change my oil to that list and I'm yours!</div>
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<b>11. Man-hugs</b>. Girls like to feel smaller than their male counter-parts as well as protected. I'm sure it goes back to some innate basic instinct cultivated in the cave people days and a good man-hug helps fulfill that basic need in some fashion now that there's no need to go club a wooley mammoth for our winter vittles. At least, for me it does. I will shamelessly admit that a good strong man hug - siiiigh - that's just the ticket to ease the anxiety of a very bad day. Makes me feel all snug and safe for some reason. In fact, you could call me a man-hug hoe if you wanted! Go on! DO IT! I don't mind. I'll accept a good hearty man-hug anytime, anywhere. Er... but maybe not from anyONE. Man-hug is a good man-job. One of my favorites!</div>
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There you have it! A man list of man-jobs I'd like to have a man around to do. Now, of course I CAN do these things myself and have for quite a loooong time (except man-hug myself - it's just not the same). I just will very much appreciate when I have someone around to help with those things once in awhile. Make this complicated and sometimes difficult existence a little simpler and a little easier. And for my part, I promise to shower most of the time, bake banana bread sometimes, and rub your man shoulders once in awhile. Eh? Eh?!? Pretty good!</div>
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Anything I've missed you appreciate about having the mens in your life around? This is a wee list, but it's really the small things, isn't it? I think so. </div>
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To men! And their jobs!</div>
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Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-48586149507881930542012-10-21T19:10:00.000-06:002012-10-21T19:10:13.527-06:00It's no chick flick, it's real life. And I dig real life.Over the last two months, I've had the opportunity to attend some wedding festivities of close friends. Being a 29 year old female here in Utah, you'd imagine I would've attended a lot of wedding festivities in my lifetime, but this actually isn't the case. Other than a handful of receptions here or there, I don't generally find myself participating in wedding things. There's no real rhyme or reason why I haven't been a major "participant" - it's just how it's worked out.<br />
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In September, my long time friend and roomie for 8 years-ish got married in to an amazing guy. I had the blessed privilege to see them sealed together in the Salt Lake City, LDS temple and then join them for a ring ceremony and reception later that day. The entire experience was perfect.<br />
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This weekend, I attended the reception of my roommate marrying her boyfriend of two years. It was a simple yet elegant reception with creative treats, a dance floor, and video display of the couple depicting pictures from infancy, through childhood, and finally their journey together. This isn't anything I haven't seen before, but I still found it touching and may have even shed a tear. I'm such a girl... sometimes.<br />
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I bring up these two instances because both taught me an incredible yet obvious lesson. Something that probably a lot of you happily married people understand and that all of us single people hope for. But until these last two months, I never really "got it" like I get it now. The lesson is that each of these friends married their best friend. How truly important that actually is! This truly means something to me now. Not only do they love each other - but the like each other too! What a novel idea!.<br />
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If any of you know me, and I expect some of you do, you know I'm not much of a "romantic." Okay, I'm not much of a gooey, cheesey, chick flicky, Austonian type who gushes or flaps at her face when boy meets girl. It takes a lot for me to get the twitter-pates and I generally roll my eyes at most expressions of lovey dovey declarations. For me, most of those cinematic depictions of "love" seem so, hollow, contrived, and... well... just plain silliness. I've tried to self-diagnose this very un-girly ailment of mine, and the closest I've come is comparing my twitter-pation of the X-Files and the respective Mulder and Scully relationship and why that gets me going more than most any chick flick you could possibly name. Mulder and Scully have a relationship built on respect, trust, and deep-seeded friendship. Something I truly admire about any relationship. While most chick flicks, well, it's some sort of immediate twitterpation i.e. lust generally based on a false pretense because someone's best friend bet them they couldn't go out with that hot waitress and subsequently turn the ugly duckling into the Prom Queen while accidentally falling in love with the mother. Or perhaps it's the attempt to convey some blinding irrational passion that takes a person's utter most self control to contain the burning desires within that makes me risk rolling my eyes so fair back into my head they'll pop out my butt. "It's like I've taken love heroine?" Oh shut up, Edward. You're such a wuss! Pull it together!<br />
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It. Just. Doesn't. Seem. Real.<br />
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So the point... I have one...<br />
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Marrying your best friend. The two weddings I mentioned above is what it looks like when people have not only a deep love for each other, but a binding friendship and happiness that allows them to be who they are with someone who wants them for who they are. Two complete people melding their lives together, intertwining their individualness into a greater whole. I heard it said once that love isn't taking two of the same and making them fit - it's like taking two different puzzle pieces and fitting them together as part of a greater picture. It's complementing rather than imitating. I could see this "fitting together" in these couple's faces, their photos, their smiles, their jokes. There was nothing contrived or pretended or kitchy... there was nothing of worry or stress about the days activities... it was all grounded in something that will go beyond that one day and stretch into the eternities. It was not a moment floating on a cloud, but a beautiful solid and progressing reality they can grip tightly. To spend your entire life with your best friend, that someone who laughs at your jokes, makes you feel confident at your worst times, isn't afraid to show you they love you, supports your dreams, and gives you wings to fly, is probably one of the greatest blessings we can ever receive on this earth. I feel in this complicated and sometimes oppressing world, with it's 50% divorce rates, abuse, betrayal, and sorrow, starting something off the right way is key to cultivating something that will beat the statistics and add joy to your life more than it adds any sort of sadness. Starting that off the right way, in seeking a best friend first, is an excellent way to go about it. For the first time in my life, I actually finally get what it means to marry your best friend - someone who is true to themselves, true to you, and allows you to be true to yourself. I'd say if there's a recipe for forever, that's a good one.<br />
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Congratulations and best of happiness to my friends who married their best friends! And thanks for helping me understand that I'm not a cold-hearted bag, I just find more love in sharing jokes than sharing spit.<br />
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To end with a quote (thanks, E for sharing!):<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"What really matters is that he will love you, that he will respect you, that he will honor you, that he will be absolutely true to you, that he will give you the freedom of expression and let you fly in the development of your own talents. He is not going to be perfect, but if he is kind and thoughtful, if he knows how to work and earn a living, if he is honest and full of faith, the chances are you will not go wrong, that you will be immensely happy.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> - </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #ffffcc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">President</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> Gordon B </span><span class="il" style="background-color: #ffffcc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Hinckley</span></div>
Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-68864570841787901912012-10-03T15:32:00.000-06:002012-11-02T21:36:51.316-06:00Something about a Birthday or the Radio Silence is Broken or Dead things, Mikey, Dead things!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A hoy! It is I! You thought I’d given up on us, didn't you?
Well, I haven’t… just on blogging for awhile. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 115%;">I elected to take a bloggery vacation
and didn't tell anyone... not even me. Sometimes, the tank is just empty, ya
know? That generally happens when this thing we call "real world"
consumes my thoughts and that other thing we call "creativity" is
moved to the back burner for awhile. It's tragic, really. Unfortunate that life
becomes so practical we forget to be a little fantastical once in awhile -
attempting to keep the magic of life alive between grocery lists and bridal
showers and nights at the gym because if you stop working out and fatten up
you'll never get marrieds. These things take time! They take effort! They
are a creativity suck.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Moving
right along…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This
post is actually NOT about dating if you can believe it… not all of it anyway. Nor do i care to hear your thoughts or advice. It was just a nice opener for a much more interesting bit of bloggery.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> BIRTHDAYS!!!! Or more to the point, MY Birthday! And there was much
rejoicing throughout the land... a gitless land.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
like my Birthday and I LOVE that it is housed in the greatest month of the
year, October! And no amount of poor dating luck could EVER take that joy
away from me EVER. Particularly when there is a…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One-Foot-In-The-Grave
Party to be had!</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That’s
right! And YOU’RE invited! Yes you! Mom, no really, you can come. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The
idea is that everyone has to show up as something dead or dying. Morbid? You bet!
But it combines my top October loves: my Birthday and Halloween. It also honors the
return of The Walking Dead on AMC on October 14th, AND allows people to get a
little creative early in the month! My b-day being on October 12th. The pictures will be EPIC. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Also
on the Birthday note, I was inspired by my pal <a href="http://steelehappy.blogspot.com/2012/09/you-say-its-my-birthday.html">Jaime </a>to create a “Birthday
List.” This may seem a bit “wow… she’s telling people what to buy her for her
Birthday? Psh, presumptuous bag.,” but that’s ONLY because I’m telling people
what to buy me for my Birthday. And I actually really like giving presents as
much as I like getting them so for those of you out there like me, who LOVE
getting presents for people and LOVE me and LOVE getting people what they WANT
and LOVE that I’m throwing a One-Foot-In-The-Grave party so you can finally be
that dead historical figure you adore without appearing to be a HUGE super geek
(pst, I dig super geeks... Call me), then my friends, you have come to the right
place!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>BEHOLD!</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Andrea’s Birthday (could
also be used for Christmas) LIST! <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(i.e. Don’t care how, I want it
now!)</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Cozy things: lounge pants, soft hoodies, blankys, full pajama set with frolicking kittens, slouchy sweaters, and thick socks. I don't have enough of them, I never buy them, but I REALLY want them. I want them ALL! I also like sweaters with cats... but not ugly ones... hip ones. Hip cats.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWevYCikPmSYnrWiHIyDFi8mBIotqYdcL7iOJ-w4Pt31YCyOsmfd1Nrxmo75x4o3HPN21eKsuZZZafQFNoJjFYoC6TtvcK6e7t8Rwq2U7wG8LyzUfGRos8n0P3k7cCQrBUnnbpYydmPFDQ/s1600/lounge+pants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWevYCikPmSYnrWiHIyDFi8mBIotqYdcL7iOJ-w4Pt31YCyOsmfd1Nrxmo75x4o3HPN21eKsuZZZafQFNoJjFYoC6TtvcK6e7t8Rwq2U7wG8LyzUfGRos8n0P3k7cCQrBUnnbpYydmPFDQ/s320/lounge+pants.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gap</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWSQw-PUCKXLdxHP4wIqSDetEa13zxqLRxYPOE4UZIBw4C3yLCplkmhoA31cMM9EqaDz4qf9ivmmCFN2fRF5UDyQiYPkSQYYd20Q3MnWcz-GE2bxBs3ZmkB5kirNgapM6fwdNcao7c6Xg/s1600/sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWSQw-PUCKXLdxHP4wIqSDetEa13zxqLRxYPOE4UZIBw4C3yLCplkmhoA31cMM9EqaDz4qf9ivmmCFN2fRF5UDyQiYPkSQYYd20Q3MnWcz-GE2bxBs3ZmkB5kirNgapM6fwdNcao7c6Xg/s320/sweater.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Target</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL28jufaKqk0bNfpMGfKFDpi4z3tVQfqkgEBtdJPB3RfJWRJLcagunSrbV9B6XLMGAtyuHABTjzEdzDEClXSlbRygaKHMcOMU36tlsqVtc_L3r7k-t8ulydkqsPLnYkmTW1xNM89kgmrFt/s1600/Gap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL28jufaKqk0bNfpMGfKFDpi4z3tVQfqkgEBtdJPB3RfJWRJLcagunSrbV9B6XLMGAtyuHABTjzEdzDEClXSlbRygaKHMcOMU36tlsqVtc_L3r7k-t8ulydkqsPLnYkmTW1xNM89kgmrFt/s1600/Gap.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gap</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmokGcbxPnjD7B0v6Kpy_xIxNZN_v3ufDmk-2UU6x-9lAkcmsN88-N9p8wfL00o5zIQcyd0DHsxoVIRK9BoZyjyofK3GJmKuM83a1V_diXOi-LvS0VvSuLxis147XO8O2YOBMNC7yNZnLW/s1600/Summer+Campy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmokGcbxPnjD7B0v6Kpy_xIxNZN_v3ufDmk-2UU6x-9lAkcmsN88-N9p8wfL00o5zIQcyd0DHsxoVIRK9BoZyjyofK3GJmKuM83a1V_diXOi-LvS0VvSuLxis147XO8O2YOBMNC7yNZnLW/s320/Summer+Campy.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Expensive but an example of slouchy hip sweater</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5esTfPx89L06Rl6EYmlrvFx9-oFp4SGqhoilqQRiVlvA5Njs3Ju_ipTwYqS22WViQBUQ0N78EIvDJBB9a9Ig4nZ2jvqH1mZ1DQ97v5pC7Uj6aBzqwy66ka8vY18w3LiWFzUn6I_bRsnoD/s1600/blanky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5esTfPx89L06Rl6EYmlrvFx9-oFp4SGqhoilqQRiVlvA5Njs3Ju_ipTwYqS22WViQBUQ0N78EIvDJBB9a9Ig4nZ2jvqH1mZ1DQ97v5pC7Uj6aBzqwy66ka8vY18w3LiWFzUn6I_bRsnoD/s1600/blanky.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">UofU bookstore or like, Sports stores?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Gift cards from the below will be VERY happily and even tearfully accepted. I love shopping. That's why I always look so good ;) So help me help you be able to look at me looking good. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzcK4yy6eNHDKmooPr-GKyD1cJ9LeiGV5_RQ4X1yo07XJXOrZU4pleAH6-m3H40b4YfXgpzMt6pHATWE7aFWSQ1EdHFxA3n0aTX4m1YuuChkvmdOR0xzHVeP2RfiUrs1OIL0qguZianxO/s1600/GiftCard_Pop_6077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzcK4yy6eNHDKmooPr-GKyD1cJ9LeiGV5_RQ4X1yo07XJXOrZU4pleAH6-m3H40b4YfXgpzMt6pHATWE7aFWSQ1EdHFxA3n0aTX4m1YuuChkvmdOR0xzHVeP2RfiUrs1OIL0qguZianxO/s320/GiftCard_Pop_6077.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A<a href="http://www.loft.com/" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">nne Taylor Loft</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://shop.nordstrom.com/">Nordstrom (Rack and Real)</a></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.modcloth.com/">http://www.modcloth.com/</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Urban Outfitters</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Anthropologie</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">(I got sick of finding all the links... you're smart people. You can find them)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://www.sephora.com/the-righteous-body-butter-P294724?skuId=1368646">Soap and Glory's Righteous Body Butter</a><a href="http://www.sephora.com/the-righteous-body-butter-P294724?skuId=1368646">.</a> OR, vats of body butter from The Body Shop. I don't care for foody smells.. more like the musky, floral, fresh smells. Nom, yes. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPWuDkcd2RYhFJIroVDJykh-kIh5EjR7V8AHEHkbgJ551jjoXVWbafyamfojQVUxZPLih2vWjXLp3ED4fGCf2WIPNdAJavovQqZGD1QH-xJYBr-d4fNxaMrGdtnyvo3bK3w_Lo8b5-OOk/s1600/Body+butter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPWuDkcd2RYhFJIroVDJykh-kIh5EjR7V8AHEHkbgJ551jjoXVWbafyamfojQVUxZPLih2vWjXLp3ED4fGCf2WIPNdAJavovQqZGD1QH-xJYBr-d4fNxaMrGdtnyvo3bK3w_Lo8b5-OOk/s1600/Body+butter.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LZ5PI7qzzbZRXjHDlpTp5_XgZ-6lM_9G0huEpp2d04_J82SjlVmPMTsu_He4I_Ck5TdVujEgtzlmAlXfLQv_PyfLZkEEUri6_WEeOfULFvl5XwlBm6l6kC8tc4fRi82O4_sTV5IwYACl/s1600/body-butter-olive_l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LZ5PI7qzzbZRXjHDlpTp5_XgZ-6lM_9G0huEpp2d04_J82SjlVmPMTsu_He4I_Ck5TdVujEgtzlmAlXfLQv_PyfLZkEEUri6_WEeOfULFvl5XwlBm6l6kC8tc4fRi82O4_sTV5IwYACl/s320/body-butter-olive_l.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Movie tickets. I love going to the movies and there are some EXCELLENT films coming out soon (Skyfall, The Hobbit, Les Miserables... The Hobbit) </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdQ6BcQnEtC7GF_dwy7zSa_gO49K95275NuigihUj4qR_V4AxbPkOPUKnBG4iPfKnNZsw03apd3jZP5cBohA3sbQ_CPJzJkz0T0vi0ZxShAckiekI9qul52qnYch_dqGPx8Jupxuandhj/s1600/The_Hobbit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdQ6BcQnEtC7GF_dwy7zSa_gO49K95275NuigihUj4qR_V4AxbPkOPUKnBG4iPfKnNZsw03apd3jZP5cBohA3sbQ_CPJzJkz0T0vi0ZxShAckiekI9qul52qnYch_dqGPx8Jupxuandhj/s320/The_Hobbit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Scarves. <a href="http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=23859846&parentid=W_ACC_SCARVES">Or this scarf</a></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweJDDpF626H8SDw5gcz_6XssqVfFCyqZWLweZ_jvJ6tgX95IFuKKsbgK00w8K8YmEoUdorl9_p4V2L_0M19WojEbek4XmYNc-9pvADJxxpPlR79A_wo0KTMzJbd0jbxvOjUa_nkpc7eOy/s1600/scarf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweJDDpF626H8SDw5gcz_6XssqVfFCyqZWLweZ_jvJ6tgX95IFuKKsbgK00w8K8YmEoUdorl9_p4V2L_0M19WojEbek4XmYNc-9pvADJxxpPlR79A_wo0KTMzJbd0jbxvOjUa_nkpc7eOy/s320/scarf.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And finally, if you really feel like you need to make a good impression and in fact, have hopes of me falling in love with you.. or at the VERY least... would like me to exclaim in front of everyone "You are the best present-giver EVER!" I present to you the below:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GX9Hj5ECdJDiD9VcoRpfi1RJK6LFO3vZoOJ9_tKq92AbH36VibeKvH3MPIno68kNCgU_57euEIccZaMVe7LMsW-mETTEP5Od7ZqVocDdkXqX9fLcMUBnyBG-A3WVSTLwI4oD6URR079u/s1600/nostalgia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GX9Hj5ECdJDiD9VcoRpfi1RJK6LFO3vZoOJ9_tKq92AbH36VibeKvH3MPIno68kNCgU_57euEIccZaMVe7LMsW-mETTEP5Od7ZqVocDdkXqX9fLcMUBnyBG-A3WVSTLwI4oD6URR079u/s320/nostalgia.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Les Belles De Ricci Perfume</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I got this perfume when I was in Paris circa 2005. We were only there for 3 days, but during those 3 days I bought the following 3 things: street bookcart French version of Cyrano de Bergerac, a green floral "echarpe" (scarf) I still wear, and Les Belles Des Ricci Perfume. I ran out ages ago... and I want it back so much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll also take this ;) Oh yes I did. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJucyJO6NyLZX1UJck5Ocqtpe_3FMZCsQhRj-JWjcvgTpPuu0M-t6isQH4qhIxv2uZWISNG-p2JJSIS-cDkocx18qfEiaW00UKNF-eUMNcg87y6x_bHLRat8sZzdIadB0rZ68Wm-n5LNA/s1600/chanel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJucyJO6NyLZX1UJck5Ocqtpe_3FMZCsQhRj-JWjcvgTpPuu0M-t6isQH4qhIxv2uZWISNG-p2JJSIS-cDkocx18qfEiaW00UKNF-eUMNcg87y6x_bHLRat8sZzdIadB0rZ68Wm-n5LNA/s320/chanel.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like... $90 </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And really, just your friendship is awesome. But if you threw in a nicely wrapped pair of socks, I wouldn't say no ;)</span></span></div>
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Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-34913316868575592522012-08-27T00:10:00.001-06:002012-08-27T00:12:47.195-06:00I just don't have anything to say...Don't worry - I just wrote a really nice long rather poetic post about a variety of interesting things conveyed in ironic and hilarious prose and LOST IT ALL to the devil inside the computer. <br />
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Excuse me as I cry myself to sleep.<br />
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<img height="425" id="il_fi" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_sZVbJknvkjn0scuR9s-AA01muwaibcnAA7-S1LfPWO9-C8lATDi5qd8JhJR-p0v5BcGjB-UXYQyOKVOBvpZJSxgXO4P7R-46RcRCMZ2Z3xzPLju9A3rwLkgT1iChaPE0Q3NotWmeqg/s1600/faceplant.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="550" />Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-88420805991448423692012-08-06T16:26:00.003-06:002012-08-06T16:26:34.353-06:00For You, Emily<object width="400" height="224" ><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/10151132918586970" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/10151132918586970" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="224"></embed></object>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-9098030985506301932012-07-30T00:40:00.001-06:002012-07-30T00:58:17.882-06:00"Swim with the dolphins. Bike with the Cheetahs. Run with the Eagles"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.owningpink.com/sites/default/files/images/wp/2009/07/Dolphin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.owningpink.com/sites/default/files/images/wp/2009/07/Dolphin.jpg" width="320" /></a>Sundays are rough sometimes. I sleep in, eat a good breakfast, go a-worshiping, and then lounge about reading or watching movies or picking up my room. I guess that doesn't sound too rough does it? Well technically it's not rough at all... though technically because I'm used to a much more rigorous schedule, my body tends to want to stay awake on Sunday nights because of the sleeping in and eating and lounging and yes, the napping, thus here I am passing the time until I can fitfully toss through the night and awaken to a groggy Monday morning. All sunshine and rainbows today, aren't I?<br />
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THEREFORE! With my annoyingly ample late night energy and enthusiasm, I felt it was HIGH TIME to do a little bloggery catch up. And there was much rejoicing throughout the land.<br />
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Ahem, There's a little goal I accomplished a couple of weekends ago I'd like to tell you about.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I completed my very first sprint Triathlon! Woah! Good for ME</span>!<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">I say first because that means I very much would like to do a second. Which seems like your basic sort of crazy talk because I tell you Internet, it was definitely one of the hardest most exciting most euphoric things I've ever done. Ever. Right up there with moving out to college, 6 week study abroad in jolly old England, and surviving the intestinal virus of death in Cambodia. I've been mulling over the experience trying to put into perspective how I felt, what it meant, and why in the world I subjected myself to such a thing. And all I've come up with is... because it felt really good. I know, the imagery is mind-blowing. Real. Good. Real. Mind. Blowing.</span></div>
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I've always been the active sort. I started running my first year at Snow College because I had what you might call "baby fat" left over from my high schools days... and I also realized that year that marriage should be a priority in my life. I remember the day when THAT gem actually clicked... I was sitting in my first Singles Ward, a wee girl of 19 and mostly through my first year of college, when I suddenly realized the only reason for Single existence the next x number of years in my life... was to get married. It was a very strange transcendent moment for me actually. Up until that point, dating or the idea of having a boyfriend let alone a husband never interested me. What kind of weirdy teenage female was I anyway??! Not a teenager who would've liked Twilight then or EVER! Mwhahahaaaa! Throughout high school I had shunned the idea and carried myself haughtily amongst the halls of Emery High School exclaiming "The first woman President of the United States does not need a man! She does not care about marriage! A pox on posterity!" Thank goodness THAT was only a phase... the a pox part... not so much the President of the United States part. ;) Vote Cox!<br />
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I digress...<br />
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Running. I started running to not be fat and also, because my priorities changed and I realized if I were to make this whole dating thing a priority, I should probably try and cute-up a little. Years and years hence, I'm still running, but not so much for the dating part anymore as for the health, happiness, and enjoyment of it. Sure I still think it's important to maintain some sort of appealing (realistic) physique, but running and being active is part of who I am now and if it took some silly 19-year-old reason to help me realize that, it's ooookay. Over the last year though, I felt that it was time to take my running to the next level. Mix it up a little.<br />
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And mix it up I did.<br />
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<a href="http://picturesofeagles.net/flying-eagle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://picturesofeagles.net/flying-eagle.jpg" width="320" /></a>I signed up for the San Rafael Sprint Triathlon. I will tell you this, I ALMOST signed up for the Olympic Triathlon and in a rare moment of impeccably apt judgement, decided I had best "ease into" this new venture and signed up for the Sprint instead. I considered the Olympic because a biker and a runner I definitely was and I felt the Olympic offered me a greater challenge in that arena than the Sprint. HOW. EV. ER. Even though I had taken swimming lessons growing up (turns out they were merely not drowning lessons) I was a bit weary of the half mile swim, though at the time I slightly scoffed at the distance. "Psh," I thought to myself, "I can swim two laps around a track..." Little did I know...<br />
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For those of you not familiar with triathlon distances... below is a breakdown.<br />
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<u>Sprint</u><br />
1/2 mile swim<br />
15 mile bike<br />
5k run<br />
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<b><u>Olympic</u></b><br />
1 mile swim<br />
30 mile bike<br />
10k run<br />
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I began my training in early March... and by training I mean swimming. And I quickly found out that swimming is... hard. It's... harder... then I thought it would be. And though I found myself practicing at the pool 3 days a week, by the time race week rolled around... I could barely eek out a mere 400 yards without gasping for precious air. Do you WANT to know how long a half mile swim is? Ohhh close to 860 (ish... give or take) meters. Needless to say, I was completely freaked out.<br />
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But if there's one thing I'm not... nor never have been... even when sometimes it would be a very good idea... it's a quitter. I've never transferred a school... never transferred out of a class... never quit a job unless life circumstance dictated it should be so... and have a hard time quitting any sort of relationship, even if it's clearly a very NOT good thing. I've gotten better at the latter... as one does with experience... but I am still that person that once I commit to something, that's it. I'm doing it. And I'm seeing it through 100%. Sometimes it takes me a little time to come to a decision, but once it's decided, I don't look back. I am also very thankful that my first Sprint Tri was in my hometown. That way, should I drowned, I would drowned at home. That's the spirit!<br />
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But drowned I did not. Panic? Freak out? Breast stroke? Doggy paddle? Backstroke? Yes... did that. But drowned? NOPE!<br />
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The day of the race I was a bundle of nerves. I watched as the Olympic men jumped in the lake for their first of TWO laps (I tell you if I had to face two laps that day, I would have certainly drowned). Then... the Olympic women. My time drew near.<br />
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I found a couple of white faced, vomitus looking "It's-my-first-time-too" friends to walk to the pier with... assessing that they were as completely freaked out as I was.... which somehow made me feel better... and we watched the Sprint men begin.<br />
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2 minutes and it would be our turn.<br />
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We looked at each other. Smiled our nervous smiles. Some of us starred at the foreboding water... some crossed themselves in pleading prayer... some mumbled their solemn goodbyes (okay, just kidding) and all tried unsuccessfully to wrap our heads around the great expanse that grew between the three large round markers we were supposed to swim around...<br />
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and<br />
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DING!!<br />
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We were off!<br />
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And I totally freaked out. I mean, of COURSE I knew swimming in an open water lake with 50 other kickers and strokers was going to be a little different than swimming in my own blue green lane at 24 hours fitness. Well, turns out, it's A LOT different. I felt like I had forgotten everything I'd ever learned. Everything I had practiced. I couldn't get my mind to accept and remember everything I'd done. I went into survival mode and did everything I could, never stopping, to get around those markers. I may have even cried once or twice. I tell you... that swim was the hardest thing I've ever done. When I stumbled out of that water... barely ahead of anyone (including one guy! HA! Girl POWER!), I was confused and weary and deliriously happy to be out of that water. In my mind, I had won the race simply by being alive at the end of the swim! Needless to say, the only Dolphin I was swimming with was some pathetic shrivel finned, half blind, old codger who had wandered away from the Flipper Nursing Home.<br />
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But of course, there was a bike and run left. On to the bike! SO! Leaving the ancient old dolphin to swim in confusing circles, shaking his cane at the sky... I jumped on my bike.<br />
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The bike was really excellent albeit difficult as it was a major uphill ascension for 7.5 miles. But where there is grueling ascension, you can count on their being a fantastic dissension and I flew like a bat out of hell down that course! Out of the way desert lizards! I bike with the Cheetahs!!<br />
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Next, the run. I will tell you this, I am a runner. And I run fairly quickly for a short-legged hobbit. THIS run however, the only goal I had was to not stop. To never stop. "Do Not WALK!" I kept telling myself with my slow footed rhythm. "You will not WALK! You will run this WHOLE THING." I think instead of running with the eagles, they ran with me... boyed me up the whole time and never let me quit. That's the way of the eagles I suppose. We ran together... always pushing forward. And I tell you this, Internet, never in all my life did I want to walk more than I wanted to walk when I passed the 2 mile marker. However, never in all my life did I want to run MORE than when I saw that finish line... and my mom... and my brother... and the community who knew me and cheered for me and willed me to the end... then I did that day. Me and the eagles, somewhere somehow, found the energy to sprint that last hundred meters and cross that finish line, the first finish line of many in my life, and collapse in pure euphoria and yes, many tears. I'd done it!! And I never stopped.<br />
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I know a lot of life parallels can be drawn from such experiences. For me, this finish line represented all the other finish lines I have crossed in my life and those I have yet to cross. Moving out of my home. Going to college when everything about me suggested I should never make it... and then going back and proving myself better than I thought again. There have been finish lines of faith and finish lines of trial. There's the big race of life we're all running made up of thousands of other races, some longer than others, some harder than others, and all of us going at our own pace. I've been running the dating race for a long time and it seems like the finish line will never come... but I know it will. Someday. And then I'll begin another race... the race of raising children... the race of grandchildren... the race of old age... and many many others inbetween. I guess the point is, in the end, to endure. To finish. To strengthen your hope and resolve to face another race, and this time to do it a little bit better than before. To utilize the knowledge you've gained and keep moving forward, trying it again, and believing that the only limits are the ones you place on yourself. That the finish line exists... and just believing it's there is the ultimate battle.<br />
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After the race, I felt really good about what I'd done, except for the swim. I knew that the swim had mentally beaten me. Yes, I had finished. But I hadn't done it in the way I should have... in the way I'd trained to. I had let fear and doubt limit my abilities. For me, sometimes I don't just want to finish, but I want to finish with all of my faculties and might and effort. I think endurance is more than plodding through, it's making the most of it. It's remembering everything you've practiced for and believing, when that fear and trepidation would hold you back, you can say no... I've prepared for this... I'm ready for this... I will not let myself beat me. I will do more than just finish.<br />
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So that next week, I went to the pool and for a moment, sat on the edge and starred down it's bluish chlorinated ripples. "I can swim a half mile... I can do it and not stop."<br />
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And you know what happened, Internet? I swam a half mile that day... and I didn't stop. Me, who had never effectively swam more than 400 yards on a good day, swam 880 meters that day... because I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable. That if I took my head out of it, I could do it. And I did. And I've done it 4 more times since. And I won't ever swim less than that every time henceforth. That half mile won't ever beat ME again.<br />
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So there you have it. Goal accomplished! I successfully completed my FIRST Sprint Triathlon; and you better believe, me and that open water will go the rounds again. And THIS time, without self-imposed limits.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Swim with the dolphins! Bike with the Cheetahs! Run with the Eagles!</span></div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-35327176746355357742012-06-30T17:53:00.004-06:002012-06-30T18:02:29.274-06:00Balancing ActRecently I've had an epiphany. Wait! Where are you going? Fine...<br />
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Well for those of you left (Hi Mom!), I've had an epiphany. Truly, it's still somewhat forming... even epiphanizing... as I'm typing this so I apologize if the epiphany turns to rambling and your Google Reader becomes understandingly one blog down. Now that we have an understanding, I'll get on with it.<br />
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I've suddenly become consumed. Generally. You all recall the two years when I was going through a Master's program and the only thing I blogged about was how I was in a Master's program and how the old "this is your brain on drugs" ads featuring an egg crackling in a frying pan took on new meaning for me in a, "this is your brain on finals week" sort of way. Getting my Master's was one of the hardest most satisfying things I've ever done. Would I do it again? Sure. Well... Wait! Clarification: if the memory of the horror of academia beyond undergraduate degrees was clear at the beginning of the Master's degree rather than in retrospect would I do it again? Hell no! But I did it and it's done and somehow... I'm still talking about it. And the memory must not be too traumatic if I can see a Ph.d in my future. In my future future future. Fuuuuuuuutuuuuuure-uh! The point is, during those two years, I learned the intricacies of the words "fatigued, exhausted, freak-out, inexplicable weeping" and ultimately "pride." I also learned there were limits, boundaries, and that if I could just push through, work hard, and consume mass amounts of Diet Coke, all would be well.<br />
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My friends, life is a balancing act. Am I right? I thought I'd learned that fairly well during my Master's program. Hell, people learn that lesson their whole lives! If it's not balancing school and work and life then it's balancing kids and work and life or work and goals and life or just laundry and friends and work and life. The point is, there must needs be a balance. Once one of these things or two of these things takes over the others, once it ravenously consumes the others, the balance is off and therefore, life is off. One begins to experience great discord. One begins to couple mass amounts of Diet Coke with Wendy's Spicy Chicken Nuggets and large fry. Mmmm... Wendy's Spicy Chicken Nuggets and large fry.<br />
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Granted, there are times when things must be more focused upon to keep the others in balance; to maintain the status quo. Work is a very good example of this. Sometimes, you must work harder and longer and perhaps not sleep as well or not eat as well because there are things to do! Stuff that must be done! But even these things will round out and life can once again become balanced; or at least, not so grossly unbalanced you start to wonder if it's all worth it. I mean really really worth it. I think that's the ultimate trick, recognizing when there's been unbalance for too long and rounding something out to bring harmony to your life again. All strings humming at their perfect pitch to create the symphony of our lives. It's a lifetime task... one we must always be working towards yet, accepting that it is in fact a life long process and letting things go once in awhile. Everyone's threshold is different. I think because I was raised in a small town, my threshold is a little lower than others. I like to take my time. I don't have a stroke if I have a free couple of hours once, twice, or three times a week. In fact, I've found that "city folk" seem to always be here and there and up and down and back and forth and late late late because their schedules are so full full full... brimming and important and I must do these things to be happy and I must double fill every second of my life for my life to be worth living AND! GASP! It used to make me feel inherently lazy... but then I remembered I'm inherently a country girl and country folk take everything a little slower despite being some of the hardest working people I know. I'm reminded of this every time I go home and start having withdrawals from "tasks"... home stamps the city out of me. It's a good thing. It's the tourtise stamping some of the intensity out of the hare.<br />
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I digress.<br />
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Lately, I've felt my life in all its aspects has become chaotically unbalanced. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally, there is disorder. It took me almost a week of inexplicable nausea, headaches, body aches, and yes even anxiety and depression to recognize that the circle I had drawn around myself had been disrupted. My internal Feng Shui had experienced a hurricane. This... was NOT.. .good. And I had let this go to such an extent that I had made myself physically ill. Flashback to my opening thoughts on getting a Master's degree. During that time, though it was busy and difficult and perhaps the work and school part was incredibly outweighing the "fun" and "social" part, I still found ways to create balance in my life. I designated two days a week where I wouldn't touch homework (finals week naturally excluded - you gots to do what you gots to do); I increased my spiritual capacity by praying more, reading more, and making time to serve in the very small ways I could. I took vacations between semesters. I went to a movie once in awhile. I found ways to insert balance outlets into my life... and though I still had a headache sometimes and had unwittingly perfected my Zombie stumble out of sheer fatigue (which I now refer to as the silver lining of this story), I was doing alright. I had safe zones. Places where the school stress couldn't go. Places where I left those parts of my life that were difficult for awhile, and surrounded myself with things that were peaceful. Unbalance in one aspect makes all those other aspects of our lives incredibly more valuable. This was a lesson I relearned over the passed couple of months that culminated over the last week in a toilet bowl (too much?).<br />
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SO! THAT, said, what I have done this weekend to restore my Zen? To center my chi. To water my blooming flower (er... what? skip).<br />
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I made lists of goals! You: "Of course she did..." Me: "Of course I did!" These lists and goals are lengthy and probably about as interesting to someone else as hours of home video vacation footage driving across the country in a mini-van... so I will just let you in on how I've attempted to balance ma'self this week.<br />
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FIRST, I got a massage. RIGHT!??! And I think I will GET a massage at least once a month to counteract the bodily manifestations of living a necessary life by the sweat of my brow! Nothing like a good rubbing to cure what ails ya.<br />
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I then bought some flowers; because flowers are beautiful. And beautiful things bring my soul into alignment. Who knew yellow flowers could have such influence. Here I am sniffing flowers... and let me tell you that was NOT an easy picture to take! Holding flowers and getting camera angles and trying to look so serene. Geez! This is why I don't even attempt to take pictures most of the time... the other half of the time is pure laziness. See: country bumpkin.<br />
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I also went to Barnes and Noble (because theres IS no NobleS!) and got me a Fresh Food Fast Healthy eating something or other cookbook. I'm of the mind that you are what you eat. No really, I feel that if you eat a balanced diet and exercise, all those other things in your life will probably be a little happier too. Like flowers. I'm pretty sure because I biked this morning that those flowers were much more yellow than they would've been had I not. Go ahead and try it. I'll be waiting here to say I told you so... with those same crazy eyes you see in the picture below.<br />
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NEXT!<br />
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I read novels. I've found no better way to relieve my angsty mind then by leaving my own adventure and following someone else's for awhile. It's my true escape. It was also the hardest picture to take of the entire lot but I wanted to capture the transcendent reader entering the lives of John Steinkbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. You see it there in my eyes, don't you? The grappling. I also wanted to say "Hi. I'm Andrea and I'm reading the Grapes of Wrath voluntarily because that's how very smart and bookish I am." A picture is worth a thousand humble pies.<br />
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Also, here is a picture of my feet. Because apparently all serious bloggers take hundreds and hundreds of pictures of their feet. I don't even pretend to understand this.<br />
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Finally...<br />
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Jesus. :) OR, making sure my spiritual alignment is my first priority. It is my belief that if Christ is the center of our life, everything else falls into place... everything else balances out.<br />
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Tomorrow is the first Sunday of the month and in my religion (<a href="http://www.lds.org/?lang=eng">that would be da Mo'mons</a>), we have what's called Fast Sunday on this particular Sunday. This means that we fast for 24 hours (usually Sat-Sunday) to more spiritually align ourselves with Christ, to prayerfully approach the Almighty for the needy and sick, to become more in tune with the revelatory power that is the Holy Ghost to help give direction to our lives, and any other supplications the coupling of fasting and prayer can bring one closer to God. I've never been good at fasting... and generally forget about this important monthly ritual. But this Sunday, I have not forgotten and henceforth, I will do my best to always remember. That's the face you see in this picture... my "you better remember!" face.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">I plan on taking a Yoga class and maybe I really will make that massage once a month and I'll always love to read, and exercise and buy flowers, but truly, TRULY, I know deep down that if I want to find peace and balance in my life, it all starts and ends with my Spirit. It all starts and ends with Jesus Christ. And that is the most consistent, age-old epiphany we can ever have - that I've ever had - over and over again. What's truly beautiful, is He's willing to remind us over and over and over again... because he loves us. If that doesn't help you find peace, nothing will.</span><br />
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John 14:27: "<i>Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid</i>."<br />
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<br /></div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-9536788887062583802012-06-27T19:56:00.005-06:002012-06-27T19:56:59.418-06:00We're all a bunch of masochists anywayI feel Pinterest is it's own sort of subversive passive aggressive evil. On the surface it's this amazingly addictive application with such "fantastically creative ideas/recipes/motivational posters featuring svelte models and toned bodies/ beautiful clothing/hair/makeup/glorious homes and vacations" when really, it's a repository for us to remember all the things we can't do, can't afford, and don't look like. And by we I mean me... because I don't see why it's fair I drag you into my disdain. But do ya feel me? Eh?<div>
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It just reminds me that because I work and because I must work out and because I then eat/sleep/repeat that I'm too tired to glue millions of tiny sparkles to Mason Jars or bake and intricately decorate 200 butterfly themed cupcakes or exercise for another three hours or truly write that award winning novel so I can afford to buy that beautiful brass bedframe and comforter from Anthropology that will naturally look fabulous in my rustic two story, woodland cottage in Southern France where I take pictures of children with red balloons tied around their wrists and blonde curls peaking out of their caps.</div>
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It just seems its own special sort of torture, doesn't it? I've also been feeling rather sick for three days so perhaps that has something to do with it too. </div>
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Carry on.</div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-21100839558874388922012-06-24T20:57:00.002-06:002012-06-24T21:09:56.827-06:00Remember that time I went to New York?Yay me too. And you'd think that I'd be more timely in posting about it; but I'm clearly NOT! I apologize to the wider world for my lack in post-your-vacation-timeliness. I know you've all be wondering what else I did in NYC. Wondering like we wonder if the Dark Knight Rises will deliver as much as the Dark Knight did... wondering like a man wonders if it's really worth spending $50 on a blind date because his Bishop described her as a "sweet spirit"... wondering like you wonder if you rip the tag off a mattress if you'll truly go to Federal prison...<br />
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Just trying to give you some context. Anyway...<br />
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Well here's some pictures so you can wonder about one LESS thing. Oh... also in case you STARTED wondering if E and I don't look a little matchy match in these pictures, it's because we do look very matchy matchy in these pictures. We dressed the same... and we knew it before stepping into public and didn't change. Take that common sense! What followed was ceremonious accosting of street vendors and tourist traps as well as eye rolls and "psh's" from locals. All in a days work "HEY! We are TOURISTS from the WEST! So bright! So matchy! So great!"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBIZoZW4OCvHW1nnD6y0CbakoRlKjM7yLC1ifJQ71UEjcD7jZrKFmltvarqTS6508zUK-DDSW-5weNXPqiD6O2zh7jmTcfsxIzbDLdqbfb_yhtVEvGhmhxj6ksrgspVTQMxNYciRJ6_KE/s1600/2012-05-17_16-10-58_600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBIZoZW4OCvHW1nnD6y0CbakoRlKjM7yLC1ifJQ71UEjcD7jZrKFmltvarqTS6508zUK-DDSW-5weNXPqiD6O2zh7jmTcfsxIzbDLdqbfb_yhtVEvGhmhxj6ksrgspVTQMxNYciRJ6_KE/s400/2012-05-17_16-10-58_600.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These here pictures is that thar Brooklyn Bridge. Apparently we walked over it "back-ways" since we started in Manhattan and walked to Brooklyn. Never the less, I didn't mind walking backwards sometimes to mentally capture the view. If you think about it, it's almost metaphorical somehow. Almost...</td></tr>
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Below you will find several pictures of my travel buddy E, and me with an Eastern Slovak fellow whose name means Hope, caravanning around Central Park in a "tuk-tuk" lady (if you'll pardon the Thai expression). It may seem like he made up his name-meaning because how the hell would we know any different, except for the fact he was hesitant to tell us what his name meant in English since "eets A gurls vame he-ar." Yes, Hope, yes it is. But it's okay, we won't judge... you pretty pretty Princess, you. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishHku0pnHYooJwOEROsZyAltDM8VMoHFWb7rGR5A7Mfjhf35v0jcnMkzfDCD9FbH7BCV_8z8EA7vADcGavnBwIP0Ll7Ytm76cKMSs3Q93htWLZSTCi7Md2Doi54-KE8lSQp6OXCO5GDX1/s1600/IMG_1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishHku0pnHYooJwOEROsZyAltDM8VMoHFWb7rGR5A7Mfjhf35v0jcnMkzfDCD9FbH7BCV_8z8EA7vADcGavnBwIP0Ll7Ytm76cKMSs3Q93htWLZSTCi7Md2Doi54-KE8lSQp6OXCO5GDX1/s320/IMG_1169.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLE9cmD9aSLjSlpljkFvujJj1m80LHpfg7ZeQzouQs_EaxDkONvZal4k_QFBr-lXIwjacb34udfn-sBmYciEgjRj3UUtLiSTujsg5eYz1_IwdCTgk37QMQYNMXLoXqndVLDRVkkO1Abo7g/s1600/IMG_1147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLE9cmD9aSLjSlpljkFvujJj1m80LHpfg7ZeQzouQs_EaxDkONvZal4k_QFBr-lXIwjacb34udfn-sBmYciEgjRj3UUtLiSTujsg5eYz1_IwdCTgk37QMQYNMXLoXqndVLDRVkkO1Abo7g/s320/IMG_1147.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXxuX9Mo6WWDIfDWks-IzSNIJWWmom3wtFSKeq6lvcwacNxPPRhaSgShuO24WNIeqrsKrT35YnqxwOnle2v5qqz-JDymtzwVGYUTDkvLVGgefmEL9n-V3v43UNcxellPQLiw1g9gWQ2xp/s1600/2012-05-18_12-38-17_955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEXxuX9Mo6WWDIfDWks-IzSNIJWWmom3wtFSKeq6lvcwacNxPPRhaSgShuO24WNIeqrsKrT35YnqxwOnle2v5qqz-JDymtzwVGYUTDkvLVGgefmEL9n-V3v43UNcxellPQLiw1g9gWQ2xp/s320/2012-05-18_12-38-17_955.jpg" width="180" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIsUp5EWxVc32Ywa6jNBpUmYT1dvsXKVZNFAIB4Ggosg_rtGtdWMFDM2EYaif7hCBr4IIggSJZPq7Zpf37ZeJ5vsj2bwzlA-pM9mUCZuOp_6duAeFaX6NIGvFIyY6wsrRpo6YpJO9T3aSk/s1600/IMG_1144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIsUp5EWxVc32Ywa6jNBpUmYT1dvsXKVZNFAIB4Ggosg_rtGtdWMFDM2EYaif7hCBr4IIggSJZPq7Zpf37ZeJ5vsj2bwzlA-pM9mUCZuOp_6duAeFaX6NIGvFIyY6wsrRpo6YpJO9T3aSk/s320/IMG_1144.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This here was only a small part of our Central Park tour. Because Slovak Hope took approximately 623 pictures of us in Central Park, we started to get a little creative with our posing towards the end. Here you see the matching travelers looking up at an ornate ceiling in awe. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1K-icaZWFohUmv5KCJ2t2UgA0uKaRaFWp0H7r7EACCZgYSWBACgM7SgZoxyFlXTns4BGGn8myBVZuT7sGQkg-e0FAm8dIaLucx0Cg3h-V3j_99zUs2jQX08nj79NkBeEcQj7Mm850Finp/s1600/IMG_1151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1K-icaZWFohUmv5KCJ2t2UgA0uKaRaFWp0H7r7EACCZgYSWBACgM7SgZoxyFlXTns4BGGn8myBVZuT7sGQkg-e0FAm8dIaLucx0Cg3h-V3j_99zUs2jQX08nj79NkBeEcQj7Mm850Finp/s320/IMG_1151.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here you see some of NYC's finest wild life... a turtle. In fact, I would go so far as to say this fella will one day a be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle as he is already boasting a healthy green glow. You go, turtle.... you go.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you see us being very unoriginal but still hip. "Imagine all the peep-all... living..life in peeeheee...eeeeese.."</td></tr>
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The below two pictures I call "All I need in life" section... books to be my religion... I mean books and religion. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Speaking of weird religions.. here's a REALLY great story that nicely rounded out Day 2 in NYC. Oh yes, we did all this in Day 2... mostly. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Ahem.</span><br />
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After leaving Central Park we had a few hours to kill before meeting up with some friends and going to eat somewhere fabulous I clearly do not know the name of now because that would've been useful for anyone else out there who wants to go to NYC and eat good food. Listen, just eating anywhere in NYC is eating good food. You don't need ME to tell you where to go... just go and you'll wonder how you've lived so long eating the crap we have back in Utah. I also picked up on snobbery whilst in NYC, dahling. OH! I WILL tell you however, you SHOULD find the Waffle Cart lingering around Central Park and get yourself a couple of freakishly good Belgian Waffles. I got two and was not ashamed. Easily the most deliciously delectable dynamics of damn fine dining I've ever experienced. Diggity do.<br />
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Where was I...<br />
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Oh yes... weird religions. Leaving Slovak Hope at Central Park (more potential metaphors... or band names), we made the decision to trek up and take a gander at the NYC LDS Temple. En route, we decided to quench our thirst a la Powerade at a sidewalk stand. It had been a long day and I was somewhat staring into oblivion on this random street corner, a very vacant expression on my face which I'm sure was extremely becoming, beverage in hand, when I started to check out a fine looking gentleman walking in my direction. Being a woman who likes men, I like to take time to check out fine looking gentleman if they're about. I noted his navy blazer, his killer jeans and square toed leather shoes. As he got closer, I also noticed his confident swagger, longish rogue hair, aviator sunglasses, slightly deviated septum, my increasing desire of how much I'd like to see him run fast like in the movies, wondering why I hadn't seen Mission Impossible 4 again, and SWEET BABY SURI! I'm checking out TOM CRUISE!<br />
<br />
And BOY was I. Mm HM!<br />
<br />
I think I made some sort of gurgle gasp noise as he passed not 2 feet by me... a nice companion to vacant stares... so close I could SMELL him... and oh it was a good smell... before I could gather myself enough to paw at E's arm and say "Dude! Dude! Tom Cruise! Tom Cruise!" as he swaggered his way towards the Time Warner building. All gloriously mega-Star Ethan Hawk, Jet Fighter pilot, Australian Immigrant, "you-had-me-at-hello", of him. Twas one of the greater celebrity spottings of my life. And let me tell you, I've had some pretty decent celebrity spottings (cough, Matt Damon, cough, Brad Pitt, cough, Gary Oldman). In fact, there are a total of TWO things in my life I have pretty decent luck with. Very useful things too:<br />
<br />
1. Uncanningly good vacation weather luck<br />
2. Celebrity spotting luck - or at least above average. I mean have YOU seen Tom Cruise cough Brad Pitt, cough, Matt Damon, cough Gary Oldman cough and many many others? I thought not. Well I have! Vacant stare... gurgle gasp. Maybe one day I'll make a list.<br />
<br />
At any rate, that was DAY 2 in NYC and I felt a good celebrity spotting rounded everything out nicely. NYC in general was a lot of tourist things and that's just how I wanted it. I mean, I couldn't very well go running around like a tourist and NOT do tourist things. If there's one thing I like more than being true to myself, it's fulfilling abject stereotypes.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned! Day 3 is gonna knock yer socks off! Much like Tom Cruise knocked the socks off Oprah!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cdn.babble.com/famecrawler/files/2010/10/tomcruisetopgun2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.babble.com/famecrawler/files/2010/10/tomcruisetopgun2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BAM! No socks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-57425783649294495912012-06-20T12:23:00.002-06:002012-06-20T12:23:41.141-06:00What would make you stay? Well, an act of God mainlySo after announcing my Peace Corps intentions, there were many an encouraging accolade deposited into my various Inbox's, Facebook posts, and other various forms of communicado devices. Those variations of "You go girl!" and "Rock it like a rockstar" really strengthened my resolve to serve and increased my appreciation for all the good people I'm surrounded with. Thank you for supporting my dreams! Even if they are a little...impractical.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That said, I have had one or two (or lots) of people subsequently ask... "So, is there anything that would make you not go?"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The translation of this question is "What if you find someone to marry?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
And of course the answer would be "Well then I'd marry them... der."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
But truly folks, save your "well anything could happens" for someone else because I AM going and I don't see it as very likely that after 28 years.... 12 of which I've been dating eligible... and a ridiculous amount of uncanny bad dating luck later... that THIS year will be the year I find some Atticus Finch/Agent Mulder/Indiana Jones/Elder Oaks combination that keeps me from volunteering in the Pacific Islands for 27 months. Yes, that's the combination it would take. So... if you know anyone... ;) But truly, if that happened it would be because God wanted it to... and also prove that he has a sense of humor because really? You wait until THIS year when I'm doing THIS amazing thing to throw a man-wrench in the system? Psh.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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OR</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Chris Hemsworth divorcing (sad), converting to Mormonism, and finding me as his one true love and proposing before June 2013; I can positively say if THAT happened, then sure, I'd probably consider sticking around. </div>
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"Anything" could happen... but it would have to start happening, like, yesterday. </div>
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(P.S. I will be posting the rest of NYC and DC soon as well as some very deep thoughts I've had about Chick Flicks and the X-Files... good stuff a-comin)</div>
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</div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-63280852605665581562012-06-13T16:11:00.000-06:002012-06-13T16:54:24.533-06:00Called to serve...Several years ago I was riding in a car with a boy who, though I didn't know it at the time, would break my heart into so many pieces I wondered if it could ever be truly whole again. Of course now in retrospect, I am more than whole than I ever have been and thank my stars it ended up just how it did. Yet another indicator of many in my life that God knows a lot more about me and what I really need than I do. I like having Him in my corner.<br />
<br />
But I'm not here to talk about all that...<br />
<br />
I'm here to tell you that as I was riding in the car with this boy, it was Halloween or near Halloween, and it was somewhat a pseudo-date-hang-stupid-thing going to this party and that party together.Clearly very promising foundation to build upon. Oh the red
flags we spot in retrospect. As we were playing the “get to know you” game, I
don’t recall what question he asked me nor the vein of the conversation. I do
remember however, that I mentioned how I had been looking into the Peace Corps
and was considering applying to serve as a volunteer. His response to that, to
this wee barely 22 year old starry eyed girl who wanted so much to impress this, silly boy, was laughter, mockery, and patronization: “HA! Peace Corps is
for bitter old ugly chicks who can’t get
married. It’s for tree-huggin hippies and pot heads.” He proceeded to make fun of anyone who would
choose such a path because it was clearly based on bitterness, loneliness, and
boredom. The thought that people would
choose to join such a worldwide service organization for experience,
perspective, and the vast opportunity to do something outside of yourself was inconceivable
to him – particularly why a woman would want to do such a thing (ya know, instead of have babies... cause you can't do both). And any woman
who wanted to participate, well, that wasn’t a woman for him. To think I could've figured out that he was not someone I wanted to be with in those first 2 hours of interaction instead of wasting 24 months trying to prove to this person I was worth it. I guess we all have one of those.<br />
<br />
But I'm not here to talk about that either...<br />
<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Entering the Peace Corps didn’t stick that year. I had
college, I had other plans, I had growing up to do and I can’t say it wasn’t
because of this naive boy’s ill-informed opinion and narrow perspective (who,
by the way, is now around 33, still single, living in perpetual
man-childishness and to my knowledge, has yet to kiss a girl… soooo… I win). I
can’t say it was. All I can say is, 6 years removed from that car ride that I can still as clearly in my mind as the night it happened, the timing is more right now
then it was then for a lot of reasons. It’s more right now than it was 3 years ago
when I almost submitted my application again after getting laid off from my first teaching job. But... didn't. Why? I don't know. Because. Because it wasn't the right reasons... the right time... and I wasn't the right person yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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However, all that shifted because as you know, <a href="http://mshester.blogspot.com/2012/04/living-irregular-life.html">I submitted my application to be a Peace Corps volunteer </a>and the reasons are my reasons and, I believe, God's reasons and all the reasons I know a lot more now why it's time to press forward in more profound ways then it was 3 or 6 years ago. What’s more, none of those reasons for joining or previously not joining have anything to do with being
single and angry and bored; and that's a good feeling. Contrary to popular local culture, my life
does not revolve around my marital status. Rather, I want my world to revolve
around nothing to do with me at all. I want my gravitational pull to be towards
other people – and that’s why…</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"> I will be serving the
good people of </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">the</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pacific_Islands" style="font-size: xx-large;">Pacific Islands</a><span style="font-size: x-large;"> for 27 months starting June 2013. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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I guess the best thing I've gotten out of this experience so far is the stark realization I'm not that barely turned 22 year old riding in a red Jetta with a boy who doesn't know what he is missing. I win again.</div>
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</div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-23889059584409939892012-06-08T09:03:00.000-06:002012-06-08T11:36:03.857-06:00My new boyfriend<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f0/82nd_Academy_Awards,_Jeremy_Renner_-_army_mil-66454-2010-03-09-180356.jpg/220px-82nd_Academy_Awards,_Jeremy_Renner_-_army_mil-66454-2010-03-09-180356.jpg" />
<br />
Don't mind if I'do</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0719637/">Via</a></div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-41017110289785408662012-06-05T11:01:00.002-06:002012-06-05T11:01:37.137-06:00The White Wizard... approachesNaw, it's not the white wizard. It's actually two events I signed up for like a FOOL that approaches. When signing up for such things months and months in advance, the feeling of ease that comes from seeing all those ample unfilled squares of my calendar in between this day that is "today" and "that day I have to do the Triathlon" or "that day I have to run 13.1 miles" is, it turns out, short lived.<br />
<br />
Because time marches forth. The pressure mounts. And suddenly, out of NOWHERE, June is here and Lord, love a duck! June is the month right before JULY which is the month right before AUGUST! What have I been DOING!?!? Well, I can tell you what I've NOT been doing.. and that's training as much as I probably should be.<br />
<br />
Particularly for the swimming portion of the Triathlon. I'm going to drowned. Drowned real good... real fast. Though at least my life will end where it surreptitiously began... in ye old Huntington Utah. There's some comfort in that.<br />
<br />
Then of course, there's that pesky half marathon in August. Not dreading that as deeply since I was<a href="http://mshester.blogspot.com/2012/05/why-have-i-not-blogged.html"> suckered into running almost 9 miles a couple of weekends ago</a> so what's another 4.1? Child's play.<br />
<br />
Thus - with said events looming, I've constructed the following schedule. Admire the color codes! The efficiency! The hope! The ambition!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5Tylt0nuyvaG5E2dPmAOWNTnryze8bEe8ymfLkgPpV5wS60aH88XUkwYCGMpm-q3VfJt0f2mlsvV5TqOCmeMv1kWQpkU7_Us_dkx3enwcXF-VHXmLeHZlMDKbQebcdU5OlcVYa7xT5eD/s1600/Half+Marathon_Page_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5Tylt0nuyvaG5E2dPmAOWNTnryze8bEe8ymfLkgPpV5wS60aH88XUkwYCGMpm-q3VfJt0f2mlsvV5TqOCmeMv1kWQpkU7_Us_dkx3enwcXF-VHXmLeHZlMDKbQebcdU5OlcVYa7xT5eD/s640/Half+Marathon_Page_1.jpg" width="640" /></a>I'm very good at making plans and organizing... but could probably work on follow through. I guess now's a good a time as any to start working on that too!</div>
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Onward!</div>
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<br />Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-1742405613870408582012-06-04T12:35:00.002-06:002012-06-04T12:35:38.591-06:00My truth today... what's yours?<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="..." src="http://media-cache6.pinterest.com/upload/96545985731395745_bmqWlwXE_f.jpg" />
</div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-54360528096544447142012-05-28T20:30:00.003-06:002012-05-28T21:04:56.642-06:00It began with a red eye flight... and ended with perspectiveThis week I returned from vacation to NYC and Washington DC. I'm always curious why people choose certain places for vacations; if it's a matter of convenience, accessibility, affordability, sentimentality, "I-have-to-get-out-of-here-now-and-I-don't-care-where-or-why..ly" and/or perhaps a combination of all of the above. I decided to visit NYC and DC for my Spring vacation for two big reasons...<br />
<br />
1. I've been to Bangkok, London, Paris, Edinburgh, Phenom Phen, and Hanoi - all amazing capitol cities on this good earth, but I'd never visited my own countries great capitol. It just didn't make sense! In fact, other than my trip to Charleston, SC last Spring, I'd never been to the East Coast here in my own USofA. It seemed somehow... not right. There are so many amazing places right here in our own backyard... our very very very... large backyard.<br />
<br />
2. Free places to stay... and that really is the crux of it, let's be honest. Last summer I also took an amazing week long road trip through Oregon and Washington, two rather accessible places I had never been and always had an interest in. The trip was awesome. The major expense, even with a hotel discount in a few cities, was naturally a bed to sleep in and once in awhile, a semi-stale bagel to consume. Painful I tell you. Painful. Thus, friends in cities I want to visit are the most obvious cities to visit. I also like most of those friends too; so that's a win win.<br />
<br />
THEREFORE, I am happy to say that my trip to NYC and DC was a resounding success for many reasons; food, free accommodations, food, checking most things off the old "I-must-do-this-because-I've-never-been-here-before" list and of course, interacting with some of the most famously recognizable all-American sites and sounds... even one that swaggers around in tasteful blazers and aviator sunglasses (foreshadowing!).<br />
<br />
But lets not get ahead of ourselves...<br />
<br />
Because this trip started with a red eye flight. Which I hated. <br />
<br />
Nothing particular happened that created such disdain for the red eye flight; it was merely the fact it was a red eye flight. Here's a little something about moi... I don't DO well without sleep. Sure, during the dark days of Masters degree acquisition, particularly during those horrendous two weeks known as "finals", my sleep was reduced. And by reduced I mean from 8 hours to 6 hours. That's about what I can muster and still maintain my cool, calm exterior. In fact, this "must get my sleeps" thang has always been. In high school, nay, even Jr. High, when groups of pubescent teens would exclaim "All nighter!!", my eye would start to twitch and I'd search the excuse catalogue of my mind for a way out of these peer pressured torturous situation. All nighters have never appealed to me and some years ago, I stopped going to movies past 9:00pm. My last midnight showing? Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Though, I will tell you I have planned a rebellious act of wakefulness come December when the Hobbit is released... which will be bookended with a great deal of Diet Coke and possibly a "sick day" for recovery. I have a few months to mentally prepare...<br />
<br />
I digress.<br />
<br />
I hate red eye flights because I hate not sleeping and hate even more... restless sleeping. So when we left at midnight and arrived at 6:30am in NYC (note: 4:30am Utah time) I was surprised that my motor functions were happily intact as was... prepare for word play... my tact. I'm also a notorious grouch as a sleepy head and combine that with hunger, and full grown grizzly bears will cower before my wrath. Perhaps it was the thrill of NYC combating my grouchiness or the nausea I was soldiering through ALSO caused by my sleeplessness, but when we arrived at our gracious host's abode in Queens, my travel companion and I promptly passed out for 2 hours. We had to. We ain't what we was at 21... or like I was ever.<br />
<br />
After a bit of a nap and some fluffing, we were ready to hit the streets of NYC! And here's how it went:<br />
<br />
FOOD! Breakfast at this fabulous Ukrainian joint supplemented by a large Diet Coke. I should probably know the name of this place, but we all know my blogging is wanting when it comes to such useful and interesting information. So just know, Ukranian omelets in NYC are good... I"m sure it doesn't matter where you go to get one. I give you my stamp of approval for that one. Go forth.<br />
<br />
We then proceeded to wind like rats in a maze through the World Trade Center Memorial line which was a very somber and worthwhile experience... the World Trade Center Memorial... not the feeling like a rat in a maze. Here are ma thoughts.<br />
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<br />
I loved that this was my first experience in NYC. As I wandered around the memorial site, I listened to the hushed conversations of fellow tourists and observers discussing "where were you when it happened?" We were all there as both Americans and other countrymen reminiscing with incredible clarity the emotions and thoughts being experienced by the world on September 11th, 2001. What we were wearing, what we had for breakfast, if we even had breakfast, who we were with, and always the question "how could this happen, here?"<br />
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As for myself, I remembered getting ready for school. I had just started my Senior year and as per usual, set my 9 inch TV/VCR to wake me up set to the morning news. When it clicked on, I didn't even notice the story on TV, rather, stumbled bleary eyed to my bathroom to shower and begin readying myself for presentation to the high school crowd that was my world... that was all our very small worlds... that seemed so extremely important at the time... and stopped being so important that very morning. When I went back to my room for my backpack and shoes, I noticed the burning building on TV... the fear in the persons voice being interviewed. Something caught in my heart and I sat down to try and understand the who, what, and where of what was going on. I gathered quickly that it was New York, that it was the World Trade Center... and as I watched wondering what went wrong with all the technology and abilities we have that a plane could crash into a building, I saw a second plane blast through the second building. I gasped audibly and a hand went to my mouth. Twice? What was happening? The woman being interviewed broke into gasps and tears. Something caught in my heart again... I went upstairs to the kitchen.<br />
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"Mom, are you watching what's on TV?" knowing that the news was on each morning at the breakfast table as well...but it wasn't on this morning.<br />
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"No..." she said absently..."Why?"<br />
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"I think something is happening in New York... I just saw a plane crash into a building..."<br />
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My mom turned on the TV as I stood nibbling a strawberry Pop Tart. We watched together in silence for 5 minutes and then I heard the honk of my best friends Acura. It was time to leave...<br />
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I left my mom sitting there with the remote in her hand..."bye Mom..."<br />
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"Hmmmm...buh..." she mumbled.<br />
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I got in the car, "Did you see what's happening?" I asked Ashlee.<br />
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"Yeah... I saw it this morning... I don't get what's happening. Was it on purpose?"<br />
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"I don't know. Why would that happen on purpose?"<br />
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Of course, when we arrived at school every TV was on and for the ensuing 2 days, every class, every conversation, every thought was consumed with the largest attack on American soil since Pearl Harbor. I remembered it all as clearly as ever standing there where the two towers had once stood, now over 10 years later. We were all collectively remembering. One day, my children will ask me, "Mom... where were you?" and I will be able to tell them... right down to the strawberry pop tart. Naturally, looking back on that moment also allowed me to look forward and create hope from the rubble. We remember so we can press forward. We remember to remind the world that we are not beaten... that we will carry on. We remember and we rebuild. We remember that time heals all wounds but it does not erase the memories.<br />
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Visiting this site began a rather surprisingly inspiring week in two of the greatest cities in America. I've always been proud to be an American, but after that week, I felt that pride more deeply. I felt an abiding gratitude for everyone who has faced such oppression and terror and found hope. I felt the spirit of my founding fathers speaking to me of dreams and freedom and principle and that American fervor I think we sometimes lose sight of in the clutter and chaos of modern day consumerism and political rhetoric.<br />
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Thus even after a sleepless night, my first day in NYC was more than a memorable experience, it was a change in perspective. It was a resurgence of my American dream... a dream that begins with hope.Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-69817455420502062032012-05-15T15:53:00.000-06:002012-05-15T16:30:27.157-06:00Why have I not blogged...Because I've had nothing to blog about...<br />
<br />
Until...<br />
<br />
NEXT WEEK!!! AH HAHAHAHAH! Hint below. I leave tomorrow night on the Red Eye... and will return with mucho postings and picturing and likely because I cannot avoid them, a few ridiculous stories of frivolity and bad luck. That's the spirit!<br />
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<img src="http://www.visitingdc.com/images/statue-of-liberty-picture.jpg" /><br />
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Oh wait I do have a story. This is a good one.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
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This week, I went to St George for work. By this week I mean yesterday. Te he. I was presenting some awards at a High School, so lucky me I got to fly down (that's right! See 55 minutes in a plane vs 4 HOURS in a car... suckers) and spent the night in sunny St. Geezy. After the ceremony, there was still plenty of light in the sky for me to get in a nice run. By nice I mean leisurely... by leisurely I mean not strenuous. It is important for you to understand this so that later in the story, you acutely feel as I felt. Betrayed and pissed off.<br />
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On my way up to my hotel room to ready myself for said leisurely run, I asked the hotel matron (is that even the term? I don't even know where that came from).... or the hotel front desk lady, if she knew any close running trails I could partake of. Observe the dialogue that follows:<br />
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<i>Matron (I like the word now): Well, yes. How long do you want to go? Distance I mean.</i><br />
<i>Me: Mmmm... like 4-5 miles. Nothing particularly strenuous (as in leisurely)</i><br />
<i>Matron: Ah! Well go down this road, turn right here, and you will see a trail head for to enjoy said leisurely 4-5 mile run. As in not streneous. It's a loop!</i><br />
<i>Me: Oh! I love loops!</i><br />
<i>Matron: Yes...</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>(at this point I imagine she went back to her matron room and rubbed her hands together cackling under her breath "that fool! That fool! Mwahahahaha!" Then proceeded to eat a bag of Cheetos waiting for the Bachelorette to come on... stupid)</i><br />
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I quickly changed into my running threads as daylight was a-wasting, bought a water (thank goodness) and ventured to said trail. It's just where she said it was, not 5 minutes from my hotel. Excellent. She speaks truth! At this point it's about 7:30pm and I feel my leisurely 4-5 mile run will get me back to my car a little after 8:00pm. Perfect considering the sun will set closer to 8:45ish and also, I hadn't eaten anything since 12:30pm that day. Me want foods.<br />
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So I begin this so-called loop.<br />
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And I run.<br />
<br />
And I run.<br />
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And yes, I noticed some mile markers but many of them didn't make sense... and seemed to be measuring a variety of trails that must intersect this particular trail, though I could not see from where or how. It's a small two lane asphault trail winding through the desert of St George.<br />
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So I continue to run.<br />
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And run.<br />
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And have yet to crest the loop.. as in loop around and start heading back to the direction of my car.<br />
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After well over 3 miles, I start to question this whole "loop" business as I've not seen many runners on said trail, but have indeed witnessed some bikers. At this point, and because I'm proud, I don't want to turn around, but am intent to keep on attempting to loop. I opt to cross a bridge to the other side of the watery desert ravine I've been running alongside for over the a fore mentioned 3 miles and not continue NOT looping as the road would have me do. This proves to be the best decision I can possibly make. For I continue to run... and run... and though I am now finally facing "back" the direction I came... it doesn't seem to want to close said loop anytime soon. I am encouraged after seeing to rather stout older women power walking opposite me and feel that this loop can't possibly last much longer... ya know... considering.<br />
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But it does...<br />
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And I start to panic.<br />
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The sun is definitely going down. The loop is a freaking sham, and I'm out in the middle of nowhere with cotton tail bunnies and baby lizards and rapists and zombies and desert ravine monsters! At this point, a series of desperate prayers ensues and I am hoping beyond hope that I've not struck out on some ridiculous 15 mile trail of death. Also, I have no water with me. What?!??! It's supposed to be "oh 4-5 leisurely miles!" Death is before me... I feel his icy hand on my rasping lungs... or rather... sticky heated fist of running mouth goo.<br />
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And then....<br />
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Sweet sweet major highway connection. Yet one more bridge I cross to get OVER said ravine (though yes of course I considered striking out into the unknown, bushwhacking my way back to the building I THINK indicates where my car MAY be parked in sheer desperation) and feel that perhaps I won't die this night after all. I'm exhausted, but as time is not on my side, the option to walk is not an option at all! So instead I cry a little. This road is so winding that you can't even see what horrible distance may or may not lay before you... you go around one curve to find another curve curving evilly away from the direction you want it so desperately to curve. Why! WHY!!<br />
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Finally... FINALLY... 8.5 freaking miles and over an HOUR later, I make it to my parked car dry mouthed, tear streaked, and full of heartfelt gratitude that I live to see another morning. What the hell hotel Ma-tron? 4-5 leisurely miles and you send my on an over 8 mile race against time?? Come to find, had I truly run the loop I was on (sans bridges)... one Mayor's Loop... I would've run... (are you ready for this?).. 15. Miles. Fifteen!! Wha... who... gah... and likely ended up fodder for saber toothed rabbit demons. Me and the maggots.<br />
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I suckled the water I had thankfully purchased at the hotel completely dry while recuperating in my car and THEN and spent the next few hours eating brazen beef tortellini from Olive Garden and soaking in this:<br />
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<img src="http://img.ehowcdn.com/article-new/ehow/images/a05/n0/73/hotels-whirlpool-tubs-minneapolis_-minnesota-1.1-800x800.jpg" />
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At my hotel. I also watched the Bachelorette. Oh like you don't have vices.<br />
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Needless to say, the hammys are feeling a little stiff today. Psh. 4-5 leisurely miles. I let little Miss "it's a loop" know that in FACT, it is NOT 4-5 miles but indeed would have been 15 damn miles if I had not opted to cut the corners with said ethereal bridges from a merciful God.<br />
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On a positive note - I ran 8.5 miles, bitches! YAY!!! Fist pump!!<br />
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<img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t7ssD2crwM4/TyeR6B4u8vI/AAAAAAAAJm8/Ed0lxrWh-cQ/s1600/DesertCottontailRabbit_01.jpg" />Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-62326874003994519212012-05-07T16:37:00.001-06:002012-05-07T16:38:23.359-06:00A brief update...#1 - Mormon Matchmaker - nothing. But it took them awhile to call me for the in-person interview so I'm not worried. Truth be told - really do forget about it until someone else asks. So keep askin! Maybe one day you'll get lucky.<br />
#2 - Peace Corps - submitting requested documents and tests such as fingerprints and urine samples. Okay, not urine samples because... ew... but fingerprints yes.<br />
#3 - Um.... I saw the Avengers and it was good... real good.<br />
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The End.Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-642419311081698439.post-65373416239372525432012-05-03T12:11:00.000-06:002012-05-03T12:13:32.802-06:00And, why would anyone really need this option?Why do I feel like this new Google Chrome option of opening an "incognito window" was possibly invented and paid for by your friendly Internet Porn site pushers, sexual predators, and rebellious tweens who have found their 32 year old "Edward" on this like, totally legit chat room? I'm just askin... I don't think it was a PTA project.<br />
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<strong style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">"You've gone incognito</strong><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">. Pages you view in this window won't appear in your browser history or search history, and they won't leave other traces, like cookies, on your computer after you close</span><strong style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">all</strong><span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> open incognito windows. Any files you download or bookmarks you create will be preserved, however. "</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><br />
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<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bHmvATMyyjc/TUJRbHUAixI/AAAAAAAAAfE/xz2T7LtJi2A/s1600/creepy-guy.jpg" />
</div>Andrea Jolenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01486079456299123924noreply@blogger.com0