tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3496510667122211902024-03-05T21:04:52.180-07:00My NutshellJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-79131501431585003382013-01-25T15:29:00.001-07:002013-01-25T15:32:33.663-07:00This<p>This is maybe the best thing I have ever seen. </p> <p>So good I had to post it pronto. Even if that means it’s my second post of the day.</p> <p>Okay, enough with the dramatics. </p> <p>But seriously.</p> <p>I laughed, I cried… you will too. </p> <p>Or else you have no soul. </p> <p>I kid. </p> <p> </p> <p><em><font size="1">Thanks, </font></em><a href="http://jessa-ann.blogspot.com/"><em><font size="1">Jess</font></em></a><em><font size="1">, for bringing this into my life.</font></em></p> <div style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; width: 425px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-top: 0px" id="scid:5737277B-5D6D-4f48-ABFC-DD9C333F4C5D:251e496c-3372-4155-844c-b6f43d1ec5a2" class="wlWriterEditableSmartContent"><div id="367a05b8-b7cd-4405-aa0e-b9682c423268" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: inline;"><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-gQLqv9f4o&feature=youtu.be" target="_new"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhTwVn_BpDxLcUT5-bJOtgVKlxSy9WhtJGGoM1I1XlM8BMuAM9pEcH1BGMcGAllvbbWbm_-VOBhUrHjjh0UbKQzTjolGptWPAwTZr4JVwX_fvLjmkNQzLNBH97wnPILkRkDDlG6UL1VQ/?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('367a05b8-b7cd-4405-aa0e-b9682c423268'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "<div><object width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><param name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/l-gQLqv9f4o&hl=en\"><\/param><embed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/l-gQLqv9f4o&hl=en\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" width=\"425\" height=\"355\"><\/embed><\/object><\/div>";" alt=""></a></div></div></div> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-20632666553416659252013-01-25T13:45:00.001-07:002013-01-25T13:58:15.703-07:00Potted<p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mJO2Wi5-cQI/UQLxf-4SiII/AAAAAAAABc8/SGLwaV-x2jM/s1600-h/DSC01519%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSC01519" border="0" alt="DSC01519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1e_NJ9kflh2kj1vyrYx2vY-281Ve1aeKBX5_LryuYRW_JK2TyjWCQ-6G1-1-gKTzcrqpae9XxECRUHnQzaZkDZCO5TmfriOUpzb4umkq7NuI7vnr0E6H7pD6n2uIRkpbwdlNrzIcZe_E/?imgmax=800" width="533" height="361"></a> <em><font size="1">Photo taken in a poppy field in the ever so lovely Val D’Orcia, Tuscany last May</font></em></p> <p>One of my constant struggles is learning to love the pot I’m currently planted it. </p> <p>I know next to nothing about gardening, but I do know, that as a flower or plant grows, you move it into a bigger pot or space and continue to do this as it continues to grow. </p> <p>I often feel that I am an over-flowing bush crammed into a many-sizes-too-small pot. </p> <p>My roots hit the side of the hardened clay over and over as they twist and grow and fill every ounce of dirt in my present container. Where is my next pot? Can’t you see I’m ready to the point of busting a root to get out of this spot I’m in?!</p> <p>In my impatience, I forget that there is a Master Gardener in charge of my re-planting. </p> <p>Clearly there is something about this soil I am in now that I need to yet absorb. </p> <p>It is not just lousy dirt I am in. There is a richness here if I stretch myself enough to get to it.</p> <p>My blooms will be more glorious if I can find and drink in those things. </p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-32323374785961290812012-10-22T15:40:00.001-06:002012-10-22T15:40:27.174-06:00Pumpkin Carving<p>Bradford and I have have a few unofficial traditions for this time of year. I love Halloween so <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jrN1-Imm270/UIW9NeMpGXI/AAAAAAAABZ8/o3s-dTnukAs/s1600-h/IMAG0321%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0321" border="0" alt="IMAG0321" align="left" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xtTUcnrCeLY/UIW9OIibM9I/AAAAAAAABaE/TkF6a_j-n6c/IMAG0321_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a>I look forward to doing as much Halloweeny stuff as we can manage during the month.</p> <p>One of our favorites, or mine at least, is pumpkin carving. Each year we go to the pumpkin patch (as mentioned in a few previous posts), pick out a pumpkin or two each, and then another night we set out and carve them. All while eating delicious treats, of course. This year we had donuts and eggnog.</p> <p>We usually roast the pumpkin seeds too, and this time I think they were the best we’ve ever made. I couldn’t stop eating them. In years past I’ve been underwhelmed by them but I really enjoyed them this time. Yum.</p> <p>It’s always a surprise what faces we carve. I never really know beforehand what I want mine to look like. It just comes to me as I go. You can go ahead and call me the Michelangelo of squashes. </p> <p>My favorite part is setting them on the porch and lighting them.</p> <p>Every year I get nervous that some hoodlum will come and smash our dear pumpkins during the night. But so far, the only time we ever had our pumpkins smashed it was by our own hands (all documented in <a href="http://juliesnutshell.blogspot.com/2008/11/long-time.html">this</a> post from 2008)… Apparently we are the hoodlums I’ve been afraid of all this time.</p> <p>Oh. We named them Humphrey and Bogart. </p> <p>I can hardly wait ‘til next year’s carving session.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jv1U98zjOws/UIW9Oams6cI/AAAAAAAABaM/BPphvuqH01w/s1600-h/IMAG0290%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0290" border="0" alt="IMAG0290" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-m3JJCthPrlM/UIW9PENCuZI/AAAAAAAABaU/RWE7WpIpTtA/IMAG0290_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="151" height="252"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5Sc-CfYFvnLxfU-QmnpS7NmAt3pUIsHdvRuoZ8c19SNhpb9JHN3zlACPFE3Fl80tpVvShJ06ImvtQENt-BpXtzIgVSqLINYOphCRPJeQsfZJzhzZW7DgSQW4_mAfCKcrH6z7JtD06uc/s1600-h/IMAG0310%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0310" border="0" alt="IMAG0310" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xKcVGQksWts/UIW9QNJmuNI/AAAAAAAABak/jJj3EhK-zO4/IMAG0310_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="151" height="252"></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5Utcy6yreGk/UIW9QlLjsoI/AAAAAAAABas/smRuoupHK3k/s1600-h/IMAG0312%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0312" border="0" alt="IMAG0312" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WoxBUaLkISQ/UIW9RDfYbCI/AAAAAAAABa0/hOyDgB6qeYE/IMAG0312_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="151" height="252"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXUQ9H-OPeHAz9wAdnUrwJdvXqksOq72umRptdXBoFPOjB2MC3HocZ6EllZtEXud39broZuOK1bO_80mXp6_U8xSeUC6d8I4Dg8rhHbLSPUIvsvgDGUdQXkXlbLh84ItuVXktILYWiUFw/s1600-h/IMAG0317%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0317" border="0" alt="IMAG0317" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-O-zoJH8KApk/UIW9SbzdvlI/AAAAAAAABbE/64wCXMkvYoA/IMAG0317_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="151" height="252"></a></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-34315697109035886062012-10-08T18:26:00.001-06:002012-10-08T18:34:13.982-06:00Shimmer<p align="justify">Today is… Well, just one of those days. </p> <p align="justify">Instead of getting into details (because it feels a bit weird to me to dive into specifics on the world wide web) and instead of speaking in abstract generics, I will just dwell on the things that have currently been golden in my life. Because there is gold. </p> <p align="justify">Bradford has been one of the biggest gems. Recently and in the past 6 years that we’ve been dating. Last night I think he sensed I needed a little extra something, and rather than feeling impatient with my glumness, he asked to take me to the pumpkin patch today. Right smack dab in the middle of my work day. On a Monday. I love the pumpkin patch. Every Monday needs a time out for the pumpkin patch (or its equivalent). I think there would be less murders in the world…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbbnjIxeVwPDKb0uJflgehoSsYKHP3_t_q5HynExLtqUnwgEEZJYSTUm-FbkU4ZpLxDnU2uxP4iQOvqpuG3461iueXPzGh2H3dReIYyh8zMCheick7U1g31VImnoFU-IxG-KeInt7uOU/s1600-h/IMAG0263%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0263" border="0" alt="IMAG0263" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yrmgvAY3tFc/UHNu86Yy9eI/AAAAAAAABYc/XtZsEMNgwmI/IMAG0263_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="132" height="220"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1Ox_2jb9EAVyrdfqC5TMzhhCOx2ba4LnmzM9CT0VzjzPsj7BRkr0DzbUNAcu0MZgYoS0DO16qV7YmrrKGZQUdejgVigvpxTh1ifX7_Y-XpTyH4RB0WGhqYGCC3GwqwbkWiy-WtS68EE/s1600-h/IMAG0268%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0268" border="0" alt="IMAG0268" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-KicKZccnevw/UHNu-AXAQ2I/AAAAAAAABYk/wa5YRWpA7OI/IMAG0268_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="132" height="220"></a> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AQfecxj2jUU/UHNu-h5XzJI/AAAAAAAABYo/mzw67h0egEw/s1600-h/IMAG0275%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0275" border="0" alt="IMAG0275" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sO4UVv3agBQ/UHNu-2Z7evI/AAAAAAAABYs/DYfbG8pLB84/IMAG0275_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="132" height="220"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQuRVl5spVEQOKZEmrTf6r5heMPe5ECrw9Q0OZT7skZj6hu4s5ivzxWvq5aDuR0lzfAjiHwq0pgw1_qsHNGc7DKRe-pQrpzrUDVbn7x0PHaWukM2CaUJ2Ssj8kNIuF69t_5Qfl5LRuHw/s1600-h/IMAG0270%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0270" border="0" alt="IMAG0270" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--IirW3PL_XA/UHNu_2crCHI/AAAAAAAABY0/tcSIP4rI7JQ/IMAG0270_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="132" height="220"></a> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jjGDikx25ZE/UHNvAdO3i8I/AAAAAAAABY4/kwsXB4QXpJY/s1600-h/IMAG0265%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0265" border="0" alt="IMAG0265" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1PE5dKm7adM/UHNvBOChzII/AAAAAAAABY8/By2emvNl0ig/IMAG0265_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="132" height="220"></a></p> <p align="justify">Even though I have a teensy (or not so teensy) bit of anxiety whenever I’m away from work during the day (since that is when everyone and their grandpa seems to need me-once I’ve stepped away from my desk), it was so good to spend a carefree couple of hours with Bradford. Just what the doctor ordered (except not the ones I work for… they kind of want me to work during work hours).</p> <p align="justify">My little sisters came to visit this weekend. My mom had 4 tickets to General Conference for Sunday afternoon so she sent them out to me so me and my sisters could use them. It ended up just being Lauren and Elyse and me that went, but we managed to have fun even though we missed out on our other sisters being there with us.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EFhMfQcnt3I/UHNvBuNxFJI/AAAAAAAABV4/JxTzPrPMIL4/s1600-h/IMAG0243%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0243" border="0" alt="IMAG0243" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6zVHJa1fvHg/UHNvB0fSCkI/AAAAAAAABV8/PbwPz6-EQis/IMAG0243_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="216" height="130"></a> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JNrhLBysWXs/UHNvCSc12CI/AAAAAAAABWA/BoXIm1ZpUBc/s1600-h/IMAG0240%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0240" border="0" alt="IMAG0240" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qXkF9Q0mMJU/UHNvDLoxPWI/AAAAAAAABWE/bH08NoWZtOk/IMAG0240_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="77" height="130"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvMzkacZKVgJgxN0RST4WE9QnQ-CqsyM5HvZJbpTJGKegyGKOIKs8D-SBme8W_z-Yo-rpsA4F3Rtu2hetYbyBBUmqwq8nxiFLrb01I95p1HJGRBF68nYTEHmC4nkPHHEcfaoA_WGVA1w/s1600-h/IMAG02523%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG02523" border="0" alt="IMAG02523" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XhlOKvs5CNY/UHNvDwTOYtI/AAAAAAAABWM/ClX0HXoFfOk/IMAG02523_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="77" height="130"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ayDD-4qz071IYQ9IcmHQkaB6RDxJL6tQoxRDHsoRoeyOEUpGFirRHhMyBdpu3ZYfnL6L8E3eyo2-uS_YXVM2xCJdYVDVhWFh5882jbBI7NyiZKqmiKlMaineRtmAb7tWJYNSMyP8V4Y/s1600-h/IMAG0241%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0241" border="0" alt="IMAG0241" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-G0hpLGy2maI/UHNvE4AnPiI/AAAAAAAABWU/YxtD02EIaG8/IMAG0241_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="77" height="130"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSKcKRErX0DrmHlZx_8b86pZ0sBRXZr9p4jbl7TSOVriR9xjvDeI8aUkbXRslrI3Jj12lCU167lZqT6PPvbtpKwBwfa6-tZy54tAk-FY1Pvf8r4JUMnxOWBlpc8u1LTVx1U3uHXKNIp6U/s1600-h/IMAG0257%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0257" border="0" alt="IMAG0257" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WidpQr2mxDI/UHNvF7XW0YI/AAAAAAAABWc/6CwkBdrCDbQ/IMAG0257_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="216" height="130"></a></p> <p align="justify">They drove down from Rexburg Friday night and we spent the weekend together. We ate delicious food, watched one of my favorite movies, and had an exciting 3:30 AM excursion to my work’s sample closet in our PJs (Elyse had an *almost* asthma attack and there was only one inhaler left in the whole closet! whew…). It was good having them here. Even though I was a little lonely once they drove away. It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve started to appreciate my family and understand that they can be important, even the most important, people in my life.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsARCnH61nW8ias04ULXT0giIUsDNsyZPqGwXAQgHy0uFNACZeD9YcJF7tt9wovukaSOpYgOXBNgPe-WQgdxBMtC54I6_CrPh9LYgd8gnhuaPV9xNAAp3_uih627tJCywYXr66jAkv-Y/s1600-h/IMAG0262%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 10px 0px 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0262" border="0" alt="IMAG0262" align="left" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Cb5nJ8Jedg0/UHNvHBxGozI/AAAAAAAABSY/mUoEeq5J5yo/IMAG0262_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="144" height="240"></a></p> <p align="justify">Last week I had the opportunity of visiting with an old friend who I haven’t much talked to or seen for about 4 years. I met her babies for the first time and got to hold her four month old, darling, smiley, squishy chunk of a daughter for the entire visit (that extended into the wee hours of the morning). She fell asleep halfway through and I was more than happy to hold her sweet warm, softly snoring body in my arms. </p> <p align="justify">I’m so grateful for friends that are always friends. It made me a little sad that I had failed to keep in better touch when she moved back to Oklahoma a few years ago. I was even happier, though, to find that I still have a kindred spirit in her. I love her and she is without a doubt one of the best friends I could hope for. She encompasses my favorite kind of friendship- the easy, effortless kind that is simultaneously honest and deeply soul connecting. The kind that encourages me to be myself, and allows me to be my best self, without even realizing it. The kind that makes me feel like I’m a pretty OK person after all. I needed that visit with her. <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TaNXzRaY0-0/UHNvHlT3MCI/AAAAAAAABSg/gO27dydmw1Y/s1600-h/IMAG0258%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 10px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0258" border="0" alt="IMAG0258" align="right" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vEDmvAxdvNo/UHNvHxoqijI/AAAAAAAABSo/U0wuzAJ-onA/IMAG0258_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="144" height="240"></a></p> <p align="justify">I am also, as always, grateful for my dad. Throughout my life he has been one of the people I admire most. Even just in talking with him for a few minutes yesterday afternoon on the phone I was reminded of what an awesome guy he is and how lucky I am to have him as my dad. Not everyone has a dad like Sir Padre and I am realizing more and more how essential that is.</p> <p align="justify">The most important thing, that I realize I often take for granted, is my relationship with God. I would be so much worse off if I didn’t have that. As long as I have God I know I have everything I could need. That’s another tidbit I am learning and re-learning lately.</p> <p align="justify">This has made me feel better. It is so easy for me to feel bogged down and worrisome about the stresses and complications that are guaranteed lots in life, but I know that for every bad thing there is at least one other thing that is good. I need to remember that.</p> <p align="justify">That’s something I’ll work on. </p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-56618369125067075472012-09-24T11:00:00.001-06:002012-10-01T09:27:49.550-06:00Wedded Bliss<p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jVogEesw2Jc/UGCRfLA1uKI/AAAAAAAABLY/jsdObyn8jZM/s1600-h/IMAG05131.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: 0px" title="IMAG0513" border="0" alt="IMAG0513" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pKtJ5hYzQk0/UGCRfWjcR5I/AAAAAAAABLg/-wprX3przic/IMAG0513_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="133" height="221"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikaZ6fd-MpqLKplU1z2H68ZLf7Spq0kn9G_PQ3FRLzSt4LH1wQp9kuRwLFfemUU4UXvBGbBpXA67ohl5_vVffHE464lAH0i-8_dV_CTbR_fgB7HQcf18LjCwygabeKalYKq6e234QYGZ0/s1600-h/IMAG05351.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: 0px" title="IMAG0535" border="0" alt="IMAG0535" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XXuU_AyHuHQ/UGCRgclwLBI/AAAAAAAABLw/WqQ1zsVKd64/IMAG0535_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="368" height="221"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzD9eeubAOtvyTT-noVPe83YrSlUNeyROvkHSU_E_HhAQXxNsnD4F6Yt0n8sEgjAIzT_ff89DJYuUIi2OOIWR71scIms9CdsVD06fhQh5rjmM3FeCWUpJpQSba4BAXXEciyq197_h6W0Y/s1600-h/IMAG05311.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0531" border="0" alt="IMAG0531" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WDm0l9boR6s/UGCRhaJ6ifI/AAAAAAAABMA/2V7rRR9en5A/IMAG0531_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="133" height="221"></a></p> <p align="justify">I realized that I haven’t blogged (or recorded in any way, really) a couple weddings I went to this summer. One being my little sister’s and the other was one of my best friends. Shame on me.</p> <p align="justify">In July Caitlin married a boy she met in her ward last autumn and had a lovely wedding and reception down in Manti where Neil (her husband<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DH4vHgEQhXUp-k8YXFGKbm4sH1pg_X4ek4BUxHcmfg9ETY5PRXP4dvB0hOhrvu9_JQ8-Uygzdca9F8QV0pzRVCsGs-_VNTTAYf-VQ51ik5K7iI4rtFFTTtWju6xhDg2nlnVhHuvQmXY/s1600-h/IMAG06637.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 10px 0px 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0663" border="0" alt="IMAG0663" align="left" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-7LikGVUhE60/UGCRjCtQA5I/AAAAAAAABMg/ZzA9fkYdvDA/IMAG0663_thumb5.jpg?imgmax=800" width="117" height="195"></a>) is from. The whole family was there, except for my brother-in-law Matt and his and Michelle’s kiddos. They were able to come out the next week though to Kentucky where we had an open house for Caitlin and Neil. </p> <p align="justify">It was so good to be around family for awhile. And to visit Kentucky again. I absolutely love that place. </p> <p align="justify">From Kentucky, I flew to Alabama and drove my little rental car down to Au<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-S1_qHBtwoR0/UGCRh3kMrFI/AAAAAAAABMI/edgZfLGZDdM/s1600-h/IMAG056613.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 10px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0566" border="0" alt="IMAG0566" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hlryeXBi_qY/UGCRiMydkhI/AAAAAAAABMQ/ghkFzFY7FFI/IMAG0566_thumb11.jpg?imgmax=800" width="298" height="181"></a>burn where I was the “best man*” for one of my best friends ever, Chris, who married a girl he met in his ward (also last autumn, fancy that!). I was so glad I could make it. He has been such a constant in my life, more like the brother I should’ve had (I always day dreamed about having a twin brother and I think he could’ve been it) than a mere friend. I also got to see his family again. Which was weird and awesome. I haven’t seen them since I was fifteen (10 years ago!) and it was fun to catch up. His grandma, who I’d never met before, made it her personal duty to introduce me to every single person in the reception hall, whether she knew them herself or not. She also made me perform a mini photo shoot for her out on the patio (because she wanted to remember me) which had me cracking up for a half hour. Also, she has a glass eye that she named Gladys. I think I love her. </p> <p align="justify">I was seated at the groom’s family table for the reception. Chris’s dad also insisted on my being in the family photo’s. It was so thoughtful of him but made me feel a bit out of place. Mostly since the photographer wasn’t thrilled about the idea for some reason. It seemed she couldn’t wait to tell me to get me out of the shots. She must be a very by the book person…</p> <p align="center"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh651JjyhDGaVy03k14nDn4JBrR84WqnehD0zCuRpsqyKXGe62rEjOtNrKRbm11r4GHULwxLRjcdY-c6tlTJl_RAoIbQBHPXo-Iuzy8Nj01D5qTAqNSkuyQctfOH2HSWhOoBf5uAVx1VZc/s1600-h/IMAG0682%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0682" border="0" alt="IMAG0682" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Js7SyegQa-4/UGCRkj5CjSI/AAAAAAAABN8/197LUPBl0jQ/IMAG0682_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="163" height="271"></a> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aP2oaneTZHc/UGCRlEE8w0I/AAAAAAAABOA/LIugrYWrD1I/s1600-h/IMAG0683%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0683" border="0" alt="IMAG0683" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PcxogA11MMc/UGCRlWZXLUI/AAAAAAAABOE/DTUQf4oIbqk/IMAG0683_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="163" height="271"></a> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6MBDnzKsJ9Y/UGCRl6_agvI/AAAAAAAABOI/aYxgX6I65sU/s1600-h/IMAG0689%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0689" border="0" alt="IMAG0689" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6SFaPX-TJnI/UGCRmNx_xSI/AAAAAAAABOM/pDhiFe0sAPo/IMAG0689_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="163" height="271"></a> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Jpjqa4Z0LAE/UGCRmi7VPcI/AAAAAAAABOQ/PalOTMa41EU/s1600-h/IMAG0671%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0671" border="0" alt="IMAG0671" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yBx123N7FQo/UGCRm5U6yOI/AAAAAAAABOU/xgm8HaNbWHk/IMAG0671_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="163" height="271"></a> </p> <p align="justify">While in Auburn I had some time to myself to explore the campus, which is gorgeous, and learned that a person could very well drown just by walking outside (that is SERIOUS humidity, guys), and ate some incredibly delicious southern food, including the best red beans and rice I’ve ever had the privilege of stuffing in my face. </p> <p align="justify">It was a great summer.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-6UjY9XcivtE/UGCRnMKlc4I/AAAAAAAABNo/K63fOtoE85U/s1600-h/IMAG06943.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0694" border="0" alt="IMAG0694" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oFHxybnk5gc/UGCRno8faTI/AAAAAAAABNw/a0tkry7ueUo/IMAG0694_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> <p align="justify"><em><font size="2">*The only thing that really designated me as the “best man” was that I helped Chris set up his hotel room before the reception (they didn’t have an official bridal party). Chris said that by helping him it made me his “de facto best man.” I’ll take it. For the hotel room, we got the usual bubbly drink and chocolates, as well as some rose petals and a few Asian fruits and treats Chris loves from Malaysia where he served his mission. A few days later, he told me that the rose petals had stained the sheets and carpet red… Whoops. I guess that’s a tidbit of information I’ll need to log away for any other future weddings I help out with. Sorry Marriott!</font></em></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-58503958977257216082012-09-18T10:53:00.001-06:002012-09-18T10:55:35.997-06:00Stuff and Stuff<p align="justify">I’m already slacking on the posting. It’s not even for lack of anything to post either, this has been a busy summer full of lots of fun things. </p> <p align="justify">My only excuse: life has been so tired lately! We all know what that’s like, right? Ugh. </p> <p align="justify">Most days I barely have enough energy to make it through the motions that keep me alive. And clean. Though sometimes even that latter one falls to the wayside… </p> <p align="justify">I don’t know what I’ll do once I have children someday. Someone pray for me. And those poor souls who will end up under my care. </p> <p align="justify">Scary thought, huh?</p> <p align="justify"><em><font size="2">(all pictures from events taking place since my last post. Including a trip to Ft. Bridger, WY for the Mountain Man Rendezvous, stopping at the Muddy Creek pioneer camp/trail on the way, the Eastern Idaho State Fair, the Utah State Fair, Bradford’s opening social for ROTC at BYU’s Aspen Lodge at Sundance, trying out some Singaporean food, and some other random tidbits from life)</font></em></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuWbslT4i2gzEAbvH1BpA28-RKTiRdSvpMf3rBngcc0Ni8XBNMKFVugEi27y39yiBl0S_mPfI5sp8DO7iEGtcQSAO2cNrGSYoNWS6x0qeEHlPKGszCRmETNSnWpIVH14XGSJ5BsdViNsY/s1600-h/Pictures2%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Pictures2" border="0" alt="Pictures2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-NX_hf2QbmaY/UFinG-OimkI/AAAAAAAABKQ/-ooJ7PX3KjQ/Pictures2_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="628" height="943"></a></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-38979411363396923542012-08-20T15:37:00.001-06:002012-08-20T15:51:58.164-06:00What Happens in Vegas… gets posted to my blog.<p align="justify">This past week has been a blast. </p> <p align="justify"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-G-_RQG_oH_Q/UDKt3p3xSgI/AAAAAAAABE0/SUdRbstUhmw/s1600-h/IMAG0185%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0185" border="0" alt="IMAG0185" align="left" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wlj1mPNeVOE/UDKt4ILhnMI/AAAAAAAABE8/RxPMY6I0Ru0/IMAG0185_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="254" height="148"></a> It started on Thursday night when Bradford and I went to the Iron and Wine concert in SLC as part of their summer Twilight Concert Series. It was fun but once we remembered how close were to Copper Onion, we knew we had to make it there for dinner. We left the concert early, hopped on the trax, then indulged in an absolutely <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_2oQc5Hfykk/UDKt4u54ilI/AAAAAAAABFE/-qNJ0dbnlSo/s1600-h/IMAG0709%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 10px 0px 10px 10px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0709" border="0" alt="IMAG0709" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JGn0oXa9Csc/UDKt47dEaMI/AAAAAAAABFM/3eVSx-NuyQ8/IMAG0709_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="186" height="308"></a>delicious meal. I love that place so so much. Some of the best food I’ve ever consumed. Ever. (Also, if ever there was an appropriate time to take a picture of your meal, it would be here. Though I never seem to remember because I can’t wait to dive into it the second it touches down on the table in front of me. I may have a problem.) </p> <p align="justify">Friday, we met at Bradford’s parents house so we could do some car work before we drove down to Las Vegas the next day. Bradford’s car has been giving him a lot of troubles lately and he had a hunch it may be his fuel pump. After scouring a wrecking yard he found a similar car to his, took it’s fuel pump, and then put it on his car in place of his old one. Much to Bradford’s excitement, it worked! He was very pleased, and I couldn’t help being a bit proud of him myself. </p> <p align="justify">After then changing the oil in my car, we grabbed some dinner from Kneaders, and went to the Scera Shell Theater in Orem to watch their production of Fiddler on the Roof. I wish I had taken pictures, but I seem to be forgetting to do that more and more lately… It was a wonderful show and we were glad we went. Also, its one of the few places that I know of that still sells Dippin’ Dots so that alone made me a happy camper.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kMQ8Di_akRc/UDKt5o9o8cI/AAAAAAAABIE/cE4RZy4msmA/s1600-h/IMAG0188%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0188" border="0" alt="IMAG0188" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yxM3o7J0qTs/UDKt6PV1YFI/AAAAAAAABII/Z7f_P3bKrzE/IMAG0188_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="274" height="159"></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-syFCglwSbPc/UDKt6Ui2mnI/AAAAAAAABIM/7sGAbUckX60/s1600-h/IMAG0710%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0710" border="0" alt="IMAG0710" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-s_c6H9c_ahc/UDKt68B1eMI/AAAAAAAABIQ/SIYOeKkkp9s/IMAG0710_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="107" height="159"></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yaTot2IIFM4/UDKt7gmIxOI/AAAAAAAABIU/9GctijiI-Hc/s1600-h/IMAG0186%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0186" border="0" alt="IMAG0186" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wORZQ7sBXZM/UDKt78DdvzI/AAAAAAAABIY/yFn8uBB0NsQ/IMAG0186_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="274" height="159"></a> </p> <p align="justify">The next day, bright and early, Bradford and I drove to Las Vegas. His brother, Richard, is an ER Doctor there and has a friend who for some reason or another can get really discounted tickets (like, almost 85% discounted tickets) to the Phantom of the Opera at the Venetian. I’ve been wanting to go since the spring when I found out that after September 2nd they’re no longer going to be doing it. It was a pretty last minute trip plan but we are so glad we went. The show was amazing. We got our 4th row tickets for $75 total for the two of us (normally would be $400!) and the theater itself, let alone the performers, were absolutely incredible.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-orTfW_lu22k/UDKt8YTUdKI/AAAAAAAABI0/ZfhFhiY7Z1g/s1600-h/IMAG0002%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0002" border="0" alt="IMAG0002" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ppn0RnfXufI/UDKt8wF8ShI/AAAAAAAABI4/V9l1gRVIIt4/IMAG0002_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="222" height="127"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVQ3ef4n3eL30SKDt3jMfEXQLRpGe_SNAEIOwXyxA_i91gbo6baidzp1hwp2rtsEMueVufcS13Je9cXmpfADiO38hCqUwPackuV7LWDaOyI6nTDVVgu_ziuHHa8_c3GFQTgIIKEkQBt0/s1600-h/IMAG0192%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0192" border="0" alt="IMAG0192" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RQGFG1b7wbM/UDKt-E0pdWI/AAAAAAAABJA/K431lBsh6_Y/IMAG0192_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="222" height="127"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRGJ-6naY-fHm3meXt0pBJZ2QwnKiQmro3At5omwB3qnUDm4Tu9tfPJflTD5Bu85bw0UUTVWDWX6oSPMgdY47mnZbxGEBYrRUeIbCtf7O4WToVYcoR8SGCaBXxQNR_S__D7_qXsHM9xy8/s1600-h/IMAG0191%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0191" border="0" alt="IMAG0191" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9Jnxbs1O9Qc/UDKt_dxLxOI/AAAAAAAABJI/oJVci-KUFFU/IMAG0191_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="222" height="127"></a> </p> <p align="justify">Before the show, we went to a sushi restaurant that Bradford found on Yelp that promised to be tasty. He let me order $35 of sushi, just for myself! He sure knows how to woo a girl. After dinner we went and picked up our tickets for the show, and then we walked around the Venetian f<a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zoafA90awtI/UDKt_3_0RsI/AAAAAAAABG0/or0YAwmeDEM/s1600-h/IMAG0201%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0201" border="0" alt="IMAG0201" align="left" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-P1mgRIsVfbM/UDKuABktN6I/AAAAAAAABG8/gCGt9-UPl4o/IMAG0201_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="142" height="250"></a>or awhile, enjoying some of the similarities to the real deal, and kind of wishing we were back there. It was a fantastic evening. We even tried our hand at some of the slot machines. I still haven’t decided if that was bad of us or not, regardless, It was soon obvious that one of the two of us should probably not gamble. Either Bradford, because he lost all his money, or me, because I almost tripled mine. We still aren’t sure which is worse and would breed the bigger gambler. (Also, Bradford at first made fun of my choice of machine since I only chose it because it was cute. Looks like that’s a pretty good method after all.)<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9yFsC6vlPx4/UDKuA2LGExI/AAAAAAAABHE/i7Wpk9_aYRU/s1600-h/IMAG0198%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 10px 0px 10px 10px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0198" border="0" alt="IMAG0198" align="right" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1mbs-SReZgM/UDKuBQYBnSI/AAAAAAAABHM/rNt7RwqcPxE/IMAG0198_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="347" height="198"></a></p> <p align="justify">Sunday, we drove home after attending Richard’s sacrament meeting with his family. Before we left Vegas, however, Bradford wanted to stop by the fast food restaurant, Jollibee. Its a Filipino restaurant and it was fun to get a taste of something that Bradford has often talked about from his mission. We each had a “Yum” burger with cheese and we split some fries and some halo-halo from Red Ribbon (another Filipino establishment) that shared the restaurant space with Jollibee. It was an experience for sure. The burgers did not taste like our American burgers (though weren’t altogether bad), and I’ve never really like halo-halo (this one had the usual ice cream and gelatin cubes, as well as cornflakes, kidney beans, chunks of cheese, and strips of coconut), but it was fun to feel transported for a bit. </p> <p align="justify">It was overall a great weekend and we are so glad Richard and Christy finagled those tickets for us and let us crash at their house. </p> <p align="justify">Week(ends) like that make it oh so much harder to come back to work on Mondays…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-VRNfxpVN0EQ/UDKuB1MHaPI/AAAAAAAABHU/EPdbfWdOQSk/s1600-h/IMAG0713%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0713" border="0" alt="IMAG0713" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iKXR57UxCXU/UDKuCHNfJ9I/AAAAAAAABHc/yWJ8bcRJtak/IMAG0713_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="148" height="244"></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-juBfhWXXROs/UDKuC_-t2nI/AAAAAAAABHk/6WI_ANzqyZM/s1600-h/IMAG0714%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0714" border="0" alt="IMAG0714" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hqvtMW6mm2Y/UDKuDvf0IdI/AAAAAAAABHs/gXIjIetyw3Q/IMAG0714_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="148" height="244"></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2i1HTsVWYpg/UDKuEAs6F_I/AAAAAAAABH0/5YhGFcB7QJI/s1600-h/IMAG0718%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0718" border="0" alt="IMAG0718" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uxocvJp7tlA/UDKuEjJf3FI/AAAAAAAABH8/op69bJdNITI/IMAG0718_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="148" height="244"></a></p> <p><font size="2"><em>What’s that, Bradford? Where are my posts about our REAL Italian trip? Oh… uh… I think I hear my mom calling me…</em></font></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-33681597352932873362012-08-10T11:09:00.001-06:002012-09-18T11:02:38.166-06:00Lay Off Me I’m Starving!*<p align="justify">I think we can all learn something from these photos.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6CCQHb-2RuQ/UCVANdUIZyI/AAAAAAAABCo/kADQvO33xME/s1600-h/IMAG0441%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0441" border="0" alt="IMAG0441" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-P49bvmDaQn4/UCVANz2xWcI/AAAAAAAABCw/8ZcIWED-caI/IMAG0441_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8xZJmzTmte0/UCVAOT2M2OI/AAAAAAAABC4/0jQlFE6MOMA/s1600-h/IMAG0704%25255B1%25255D%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0704[1]" border="0" alt="IMAG0704[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tHdjOf0RH3g/UCVAOgbYKvI/AAAAAAAABDA/G_gCWQlw_t4/IMAG0704%25255B1%25255D_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> <p align="justify">Clearly I need to calm down when it comes to my food.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-y-4IcPuI0GQ/UCVAO9hcGOI/AAAAAAAABDI/ENLyeW_b8Nc/s1600-h/IMAG0575%25255B1%25255D%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0575[1]" border="0" alt="IMAG0575[1]" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RW3LMfc25Mo/UCVAPIdhKqI/AAAAAAAABDQ/1iGcnvTZCAY/IMAG0575%25255B1%25255D_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qHG3Q3Hc7Ms/UCVAPvYwc4I/AAAAAAAABDY/JsZcDK6ZCNY/s1600-h/IMAG0571%25255B1%25255D%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0571[1]" border="0" alt="IMAG0571[1]" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fRjiZ_KYG1U/UCVAQLbcUMI/AAAAAAAABDg/zuBGTIBIX84/IMAG0571%25255B1%25255D_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> <p align="justify">Apparently I get so excited about what is before me that its hard for me to wait, even if just for a camera shutter, before my taste buds lose control, resulting in blurred photos. And a snarful Julie. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rzM1vnVxeDo/UCVAQSj_WJI/AAAAAAAABDo/4BSqrO31TD8/s1600-h/CIMG2881%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2881" border="0" alt="CIMG2881" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PcABX7BUVY4/UCVAQzhcFKI/AAAAAAAABDw/gR_J85Pz6ms/CIMG2881_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-W236IXujmFw/UCVARC3QHxI/AAAAAAAABD4/HXgUWrjQnDE/s1600-h/CIMG2843%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2843" border="0" alt="CIMG2843" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GIEPsHCY4yY/UCVARtvIOUI/AAAAAAAABEA/v_6-XXWKJL0/CIMG2843_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> <p align="justify">Here’s to cooling my jets about the meals I’m about to consume. And being patient during photo shoots. Not that anyone really cares about what I’m eating though, let’s be honest. Except maybe Instagram. I think that’s one of their requirements actually, that you must take x number of photos of your food to be allowed on the app… </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ao2Yf4ye7qI/UCVARwe2kLI/AAAAAAAABEI/K5U7dl5y-Ss/s1600-h/IMAG0397%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0397" border="0" alt="IMAG0397" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cQ6TL7XPqAM/UCVASS2UzLI/AAAAAAAABEQ/bDo-7OR32zY/IMAG0397_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> <p>But golly do I like food.</p> <p> </p> <p><font size="2">*<em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yErb0jzIPL8">This</a></em> I love.</font></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-69438399966927250732012-08-02T21:17:00.001-06:002012-08-02T21:17:27.102-06:00Joy<p align="justify">I love Kentucky. I feel so alive when I am here. My family moved here from Oklahoma the summer after I graduated High School. I lived here with them for about 5 months before moving out to Utah for school. My love for this place definitely has to do with the people I met here as well as the beautiful countryside. More than that though, I realized that I love Kentucky for the personal discoveries I had here. </p> <p align="justify"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GVCa8WyBbyY/UBtCw6DDK7I/AAAAAAAABCA/okK_EfEtz0E/s1600-h/IMAG0593%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 10px 0px 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0593" border="0" alt="IMAG0593" align="left" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-DgAroZMmlKs/UBtCxbe08VI/AAAAAAAABCI/pVyUBXNrwQc/IMAG0593_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="459" height="768"></a>Two of my favorite people that have become lifetime friends I met here. I visited with one of them last night and after driving down the 22 back toward home, I was pondering again how much I love this place. I love the easy, flowing, landscape with the gorgeous green hills carpeted with fields, wildflowers, and trickling creeks. I love the majestic thunder storms and the magical evening fireflies. I love the spatterings of wooded groves and abundant wildlife and the way the homes and dwellings are tucked between the hills. I love the unpretentiousness of the towns here, the way they are almost part of the land instead of dominating over it.</p> <p align="justify">As I was day dreaming, following the swerving road that twists and turns along the natural curves of the land, I was struck, as always, when I came to the town of Crestwood. Suddenly, there between the trees, is the Louisville temple. Its a breathtaking sight, one that would be easily missed if you so much as blinked. To unexpectedly be wowed by the simple beauty of the temple never loses its charm. </p> <p align="justify">Its a small temple, hardly any grounds around it, and shares the parking lot with a chapel which is just as small. There is only one row of parking spots separating the church from the temple and it is right there that I chose to park my car for a bit before driving on home. I love this spot. </p> <p align="justify">I remembered back to a night, now almost exactly 7 years ago, when I sat in that very same spot. That moment was easily the single event that rooted part of my soul in Kentucky soil forever. </p> <p align="justify">That night I had a mental, spiritual, and emotional shift. I learned what it means to truly heal and be healed. I knew what it meant to be released from the lonely darkness and sent forth with all the freshness of a free life. I knew how it felt to be loved eternally and against all reason. In the days after I discovered that, each new day offered its own promise of sweetness and hope. How I soared on that newfound knowledge! </p> <p align="justify">It was a very poignant night. And I’m not ashamed to say that on the way home from that parking lot last night, I wept, just like I did that night years ago. I loved every tear. They represented the honest joy those memories and lessons brought to my life and reminded me that I can feel that way again. </p> <p>Joy is so much more than happiness. I know that thanks to my lovely, green, Kentucky. </p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-29773198520060585612012-07-28T12:28:00.001-06:002012-07-30T13:04:01.112-06:00Drugged<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hopped up on Benedryl today. Why do I always forget that Benadryl knocks me out and leaves me in a surreal fogginess all day? I shan't take it again. At least not in my supposed to be waking hours. </div>
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I am in Kentucky right now visiting my family. My dad works in Australia and had to leave earlier today (and I missed him leaving since I was in a drugged induced coma) so I'm sad that he won't get to be around for the rest of the time I'm here. I sure do like him. </div>
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Yesterday, after my sister's open house at my parents' church, we went across the street to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. Thanks to the awesome thunder/rain storms Kentucky has been having, everything was super wet. And I was worried about my new shoes I just bought. 100% leather suede. And expensive to boot. The most expensive shoes I have ever bought, in fact. Naturally I was fretting over their safety like a mother hen the entire time I'd been wearing them (almost a manifestation that it's not worth it to buy another fancy pair of shoes ever again. Almost...) so upon seeing my distress, my dad swiftly scooped me up and carried me across the parking lot to the door of the restaurant. Though he mentioned I was not quite as light as the last time he'd done that (granted I was probably 8 then) he seemed to have no struggles and I was left feeling a little bit like my Daddy's little girl again. In a good way.</div>
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Thank goodness for Dads that set awesome examples of love, committment, and sacrifice. I would be much worse off in life were it not for my dad.</div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-29544995520760867952012-07-09T11:42:00.001-06:002012-07-09T11:57:40.446-06:00Fantastic Fourth<p align="justify">Bradford’s parents own a cabin in Fairveiw, about 40 minutes South of Provo through Spanish Fork Canyon, and we like to go down and relax there a few times a year. </p> <p align="justify">The past few years we’ve gone down for Halloween with our friends to watch scary movies, eat way too much food, and play games. We’ve also found that we enjoy going down for the 4th of July. We went once before with all our friends but this year, Bradford and I were the only ones that could make it. </p> <p align="justify">The city of Mt. Pleasant (a town more like), just a hop skip and a jump from Fairview, has a lot of fun festivities for the 4th. They have a fun run, a big breakfast in the park, a parade, a library book sale, a rubber duck race down the creek, stands of delicious food and wares in the park, lots of entertainment, a rodeo, and of course, fireworks.</p> <p align="justify"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Pictures" border="0" alt="Pictures" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bQIQYi9wHjs/T_sYAQ0_QQI/AAAAAAAABBU/ZBFwwGNOd9g/Pictures_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="689" height="459"></p> <p align="justify">Bradford’s parents came down with us on Tuesday night and we all went to the rodeo. I find that I tend to cheer for the animals more than the cowboys… its always a small victory to me when the cows can get away before they’re roped and brought to the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYMos_6BaafEL4ZwQcSgKyIUSnBfz1BhLMW1Z1O93vX1L9Sd3-uv8QCGjzeGUhyYk38MCdFCK4b0jhix7spRSn5vY7wtpNU2jJb3B4PhFFH4GqAkOcE_NqtjEoZqreqGpw0d6JaL_ZFMA/s1600-h/IMAG0466%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 15px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0466" border="0" alt="IMAG0466" align="right" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xzXmrgG13yw/T_sYBC43bEI/AAAAAAAABBo/2x76y4eIZGc/IMAG0466_thumb%25255B9%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="202" height="165"></a>ground. </p> <p align="justify">The next morning, Bradford and I did the fun run (though I think the name is misleading- dang lungs), then we went back to the cabin to change, eat some breakfast (I think I even napped a bit) and then headed back out to go to the library sale where I picked up two practically brand new books for $2.50. After that, we staked out a spot on the side of Main St. and waited for the parade. </p> <p align="justify">Once the parade was over we went back to the cabin to change into our swimsuits and go for a swim at the pool. Unfortunately for us, a little kid decided he needed to poop before he could get out of the pool so it was temporarily closed when we got there. They disposed of the mess and threw in some cleaning chemicals but it wasn’t quite enough to make <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vAOAjvXXw1Y/T_sYBgiw2OI/AAAAAAAABAg/M10ULMnyBts/s1600-h/Pictures1%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 10px 0px 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="Pictures1" border="0" alt="Pictures1" align="left" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VTVM5jJSdmA/T_sYCGf-o2I/AAAAAAAABAo/F0JRYzCHxSE/Pictures1_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="326" height="490"></a>me feel comfortable about playing around in the water. We decided to pass and instead went back to the cabin until lunch when we ventured out to the park for some food. We had some Hawaiian food, tacos, and the most delicious snow cone I’ve ever had. </p> <p align="justify">Once we finished our food we drove out to Spring City where Bradford’s parents own some property. We walked around the land for a little while, explored where his parents want to build their retirement home someday, and then we drove out to Bradford’s favorite spot in all of Sanpete County. The Spring City spring. </p> <p align="justify">The first time I’d ever been to the spring, Bradford had been talking it up like it was really something to see. He was very excited to show me and our friends the amazing spring. I don’t know what we expected but when Bradford pulled into the Sinclair gas station parking lot and turned off the car, we were a tad surprised. His spring was nothing more than a tiny monument with a plaque and somewhat unimpressive spring bubbling at the bottom. Needless to say we all teased him for a while about his grand spring. Although, to Bradford’s credit, we do enjoy going there and filling up whatever bottles we can find in the car whenever we’re down there. The water is rather tasty.</p> <p align="justify">On our way back to the cabin we decided to buy a pizza at Bradford’s beloved Cavalier Pizza. We knew we would be hungry after the fireworks later that night and everything would be closed down by then so we got the pizza to keep for a late dinner. With pizza in hand we headed back to the cabin again where Bradford watched a movie (and ate about half the pizza) and I napped for maybe the third time that day. </p> <p align="justify">We ended the day by watching the fireworks down by the park. The fireworks display right over the cemetery and the first year we went, we didn’t realize that we were practically on top of some of the graves until after the show. This year we were a bit more respectful and found a spot in a nearby field. We love the fireworks show in Mt. Pleasant. It is one of the best firework displays I’ve seen and we look forward to it each year. <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vLn-asGmruY/T_sYCapyKbI/AAAAAAAABAw/5uKaD1q6Or4/s1600-h/IMAG0489%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0489" border="0" alt="IMAG0489" align="right" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UJzDLISHLWk/T_sYC0nI3OI/AAAAAAAABA4/7wqhxALHGbY/IMAG0489_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="144" height="240"></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QrVmr-9IqJ4/T_sYDUTruTI/AAAAAAAABBA/2J9BKyqBVdY/s1600-h/IMAG0486%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; margin: 0px 5px 0px 10px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0486" border="0" alt="IMAG0486" align="right" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QjMIHWZ-AOI/T_sYDsqydgI/AAAAAAAABBI/co8lwHeLNGY/IMAG0486_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="144" height="240"></a></p> <p align="justify">I think all of us onlookers were a bit nervous about the fireworks due to all the crazy fires we’ve had around the area lately. Though we were thankful that they didn’t cancel them like so many cities here did, we were all aware of the falling ash and debris. Little kids would dash out and make sure all the sparks were sufficiently stomped and put out when they’d fall nearby. Thankfully, it all went off without any accidents. </p> <p align="justify">I love spending the Fourth in a small town and I’m glad Bradford enjoys it too. It is an excellent holiday, one of my favorites, and it somehow feels more special in Mt. Pleasant. </p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-57243032268574204762012-07-02T11:02:00.001-06:002012-07-02T11:24:24.540-06:00You’ll Look Sweet Upon the Seat<p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XR5wlJIIPuk/T_HUISNJ_dI/AAAAAAAAA_U/AZICOrMkEg0/s1600-h/IMAG0037%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 0px 10px 0px 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="IMAG0037" border="0" alt="IMAG0037" align="left" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wfE1h7_qNug/T_HUIyZzv-I/AAAAAAAAA_c/lKkLX0gL9X4/IMAG0037_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="437" height="772"></a> </p> <p align="justify">I tend to be a bit… antsy… when it comes to weekends. I crave spontaneity, adventure, and anything out of the mundane. The whole week I’m stuffed into a scheduled that I have little control over (thanks grown-up job!) and it starts to really wear on me come Friday. Bradford is aware of this about me and decided to take it upon himself to plan a little something out of the routine for us to do on Saturday.</p> <p align="justify">We went to his Parents’ house, borrowed two of their bicycles, strapped them on top of my car (using the bike racks Bradford bought about year ago and we hadn’t used until now…), then we drove out to Utah Lake and rode around for an hour or so. It was super hot, and we were very thirsty the entire time, but it was a nice ride all the same. </p> <p align="justify">It had been about 10 years since I’d been on a bike and I must say, the cliché, “like riding a bike,” isn’t a bunch of malarkey. Also, bicycle seats hurt your bum if you aren’t used to them (mine is still sore). </p> <p align="justify">It was fun and something we’ve never done together and something I’d like to do again soon. I’m glad Bradford thought of it. He’s a pretty good egg. </p> <p align="justify">Later that night we went to see “Battleship” at the theater. It was surprisingly not terrible. Even enjoyable. Bradford actually said he wants to see it again (which is a big deal, he usually hates seeing the same movie within a five year window…).</p> <p align="justify">All in all, it was a good weekend and I look forward to many many many more. Hopefully all of them. (Is it Friday yet?)</p> <p align="justify"><em><font size="2">See? It was hot. I turn red when I get hot.</font></em></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-61629879803727667782012-06-29T15:17:00.001-06:002012-07-02T10:43:45.208-06:00Belated Birthday<p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-g1yutFcNx60/T_HPvEJfLCI/AAAAAAAAA-w/LfiVRRUES-E/s1600-h/invite1%25255B1%25255D%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="invite1[1]" border="0" alt="invite1[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ISKCgX0ZYnQ/T_HPvuzwgCI/AAAAAAAAA-4/alz42fGGWO4/invite1%25255B1%25255D_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="278" height="376"></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VQIu0Ucp3Go/T_HPv5YqiNI/AAAAAAAAA_A/F4zJ_gAiIwE/s1600-h/invite2%25255B1%25255D%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="invite2[1]" border="0" alt="invite2[1]" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3hf85TYZ878/T_HPwAZWYXI/AAAAAAAAA_I/yAhDK9OQ5sw/invite2%25255B1%25255D_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="376"></a> </p> <p align="justify">I realized that I have still not posted about the birthday party I threw for myself a few weeks ago. I was waiting on pictures that I’m not sure will ever be coming my way so I guess now is as good a time as any to post about it (in the hub-bub of everything I didn’t take my own camera out so I only have a few from my sister and a friend’s phone). <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUiYeP-Vfp-5sQiXsd5cye2QjE9vmUhMBX7QnZvncyY95a8fa1bBn_uSTrsHLbINha51OoZTr1dyYK-hTqdtVGXJ636WjPp19tnNgBebBYx5V3roUoBCXi3IbSPxSnXrGAWTGerngGlXk/s1600-h/photo%252520%2525282%252529%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 10px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="photo (2)" border="0" alt="photo (2)" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sBbEJQ6jtHU/T-4bZVfGsaI/AAAAAAAAA9c/_-gS6m63RyE/photo%252520%2525282%252529_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="374" height="280"></a></p> <p align="justify">I decided I wanted to do a 1920s/Speakeasy themed part because I turned 25 and that, my friends, is the number right smack dab in the middle of all the twenties and I thought it would be fun to celebrate with a roaring twenties party- In my twenties and going strong! </p> <p align="justify">I made a dress and head scarf/hat thing, researched some era appropriate cocktails (and found non-alcoholic substitutes for the alcohol parts), as well as popular 1920s food (my birthday cake was a pineapple upside-down cake, we also had macaroni ‘n cheese, and deviled eggs to name a few), phrases, and games (ie- a crossword puzzle with 25 things about me, poker, pool) and then set about putting it all together. I even found a magazine from an antique store, in pristine condition, that was published in 1920! </p> <p align="justify">My original plan was to have the party outside in Bradford’s parents’ backyard, with a couch and chairs and a table with a lamp, to look like a room inside but out (got that?). However, it was windier than any wind I have ever experienced in Utah so, much to my dismay, We held it indoors instead, which ended up being just fine.</p> <p align="justify">Bradford found some great 20s music that we played and we even watched a silent film! The Artist. It came out last year and Bradford and I both loved it when we saw it and it was perfect for the theme. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-k29oRSFJtHE/T-4bZnt1i7I/AAAAAAAAA9k/RHyzlM3UETc/s1600-h/imagejpeg_2_4%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="imagejpeg_2_4" border="0" alt="imagejpeg_2_4" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9hRkzf9w-Ak/T-4bZ_alDYI/AAAAAAAAA9s/Vv-9nMesjpU/imagejpeg_2_4_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="336" height="448"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLeRw0S8tbXhHpFBWDTABh3w1h3iHSS6C8Y0RsAp-mTNx8hLeR3yW174KfhgIpGk3Tb3gDeM7iGVGJam-jG6_hrOFQdaK3GDRWmHBNgcZKYMCuRyOh0dC_st5UQ9Z4YF0C7KgJAoGCAKc/s1600-h/photo%252520%2525283%252529%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="photo (3)" border="0" alt="photo (3)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-j9eogPVs4dI/T-4ba6SqaBI/AAAAAAAAA98/uta_BmkNUWc/photo%252520%2525283%252529_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="336" height="450"></a><em><font size="2"> </font></em></p> <p align="justify">I collected glass martini glasses for a few months so that they could be used at the party and taken home as souvenirs. Not many did though, so I now have a box in my car ready for Good Will… anyone want some? </p> <p align="justify"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IOkOqy7P8xU/T-4bbcDeXBI/AAAAAAAAA-E/gtEiESSgKww/s1600-h/imagejpeg_2_5%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; margin: 10px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="imagejpeg_2_5" border="0" alt="imagejpeg_2_5" align="left" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UrMtCkv2QDc/T-4bdnfRpKI/AAAAAAAAA-M/2HqyZwpYFyU/imagejpeg_2_5_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="399" height="300"></a>The morning of the party Bradford woke up really sick and could barely move most of the day so I had to kick it in to hyper drive to try get all the food made and decorations up before guests arrived. I had to cut out a few things, and didn’t get all the decor out that I wanted but it is what it is. Thankfully Bradford’s mom came and helped me towards the end and my sister Caitlin and her fiance, Neil, saved me by getting some last minute things I had forgotten (Ice. Duh Julie, you need ice for mocktails.)</p> <p align="justify">Bradford did help before the actual day of the party, though (he actually put all the bulbs in my stringed lights for me too, while lying on the couch sick, poor guy). He was in charge of a few things including getting the invitations out to everyone. He asked them all to dress up, which just about everyone did and it was awesome. He even added a password to the invite in true speakeasy style!</p> <p align="justify">Overall it turned out pretty well. Not quite as fantastic as I imagined in my head (when does it ever?) but everyone seemed to enjoy it and that’s good enough for me! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-79vWxRpZKDA/T-4bd1mee0I/AAAAAAAAA-U/vZb_eZJSKS0/s1600-h/photo%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="photo" border="0" alt="photo" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dOgiozh1V2c/T-4bedyYznI/AAAAAAAAA-c/Qcv3xk2gq5k/photo_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="644" height="482"></a> <em><font size="2">Yup. Charlie was there too. And you bet I put him in his bowtie.</font></em></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-62699053189148805982012-06-27T13:22:00.001-06:002012-09-27T13:47:36.452-06:00Funny Face, I Love You<p>So here’s the thing: between me and Jarron and Olivia, our friends we went to Italy with, I have around 1600 pictures from the trip. Yowza.</p> <p>As I was searching through them, trying to figure out how to best tackle posting about our vacation without overwhelmingly long, picture-logged, posts I came across a few gems and got distracted.</p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--b91QNegmSY/UGStLW7OJmI/AAAAAAAABO4/A5wQX3tnBMc/s1600-h/B1%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="B1" border="0" alt="B1" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8fpWjJsNqOg/T-tdXPMXVnI/AAAAAAAABPA/0_l-qJ7jgf0/B1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="640" height="799"></a> </p> <p>If none of you have ever met Bradford, these pictures will give you a good idea of the type of character he is. Golly, I love these photos.<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bJ93POaMmkw/T-tdXZS6sFI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/Hnm8MhTfxq0/s1600-h/B2%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="B2" border="0" alt="B2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkwOtLh5uMqmRIYRl_BFyIcqDQPSoSsol9jnU8uFghyphenhyphenEs6XpK513WhrezotRYfnegz525kIFbYmS3SAk8ODzjsjomm_uWzEC26tm1_sL5TlJzIiyom48Q2w3cPnn1X3sqM2hbNk_Ppys/?imgmax=800" width="550" height="383"></a> </p> <p>In all fairness, some of these were not intentional. Some are mere bad timing in taking the pictures than purely Bradford showing his true colors.</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QKzFmlgFU6Q/T-tdYYgErHI/AAAAAAAABPE/w9jxhXC6amg/s1600-h/B.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="B" border="0" alt="B" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7gsnVXhYBtjhMOYB41GRX73-s4xFgKSm0FrATO3KAWzzlSB_7kIgFMABmfQrA0HjFFMw83mE_34NLDbp7p58i519QPvl3pquPNk6vSPn7ofxLtiYysEnEy3-6deLhyINWjSr_VHm4JE/?imgmax=800" width="640" height="799"></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>Either way, I love them. He is such a fun-loving soul.</p> <p>AND, so Bradford doesn’t feel alone in the crazy face department, here’s one of me in my ever shining loveliness:</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tK9OthqOXzNOr5xxZKnrujTwJfSVTl97aGnr4gJKzlk3WWIXiyjSuwtrIDr9wyfk_ojKIYa84R7cSotfQnHV3v2jnkvtI2BdOKgtO76myg09xycdkvcoCmwBbRkdM6Jc6b83CLFK4B0/s1600-h/CIMG2545%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="CIMG2545" border="0" alt="CIMG2545" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-clJujbj_76I/T-tdZyTlY0I/AAAAAAAAA9A/y4LkZMpmZws/CIMG2545_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="415" height="283"></a> </p> <p>He’s in good company I guess.</p> <p></p> <p></p> <p> </p> <p>P.S.</p> <p>I’ll <em>really </em>post about Italy soon. Ish. As soon as I figure out how the heck to break it down for you. </p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-26140341365926394032012-06-25T14:28:00.001-06:002012-06-25T14:30:31.710-06:00The Sky is Falling<p>Last week, Tuesday I think it was, I walked into work and this is what I saw:</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V0Q6fTyoSf8/T-jJ3PcdPVI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/QgvPJWX_PhM/s1600-h/IMAG0391%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0391" border="0" alt="IMAG0391" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-o1t0eat-lQw/T-jJ3UylmZI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/kWcz2h8bby8/IMAG0391_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="375" height="487"></a></p> <p>Apparently during the night, a water line burst up on the fifth floor and exploded down to each floor below on the south side of our office building. This suite is on the second floor. Our waiting room, front desk area, and two of our exams rooms were completely wrecked. And we were one of the lucky ones. </p> <p>When I walked into the office I began investigating. While dodging the soggy ceiling tiles that were still dropping periodically, as well as avoiding the puddles all over the carpets, I soon discovered that my work area, a nook near the back of the office, was virtually the only space untouched by the calamity. Rats. </p> <p>I was looking forward to maybe getting out of work for a bit while the space got cleaned up. No such luck.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_6iudUlbouw/T-jJ3xo6yKI/AAAAAAAAA5g/B73N5JOU17M/s1600-h/IMAG0394%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0394" border="0" alt="IMAG0394" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JXCg_M-yGig/T-jJ4KkRZyI/AAAAAAAAA5o/k4Ijl2o9knc/IMAG0394_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="330" height="200"></a><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lnWMnt0wX3A/T-jJ4ckZDoI/AAAAAAAAA5w/dMFR9_WrrbM/s1600-h/IMAG0395%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0395" border="0" alt="IMAG0395" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Ah3z9TmHvh0/T-jJ4i9yTNI/AAAAAAAAA54/rpPND_otfg8/IMAG0395_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="330" height="200"></a></p> <p>I did, however, get to sit all alone in the office for the rest of the week while everyone else crammed into our office on the 4th floor to continue their work. My only company was the ridiculously loud fans drying the carpet and the occasional construction worker coming to pull out the damaged ceiling tiles. </p> <p>I think I may have a fungus growing in my sinuses after sitting in a damp, smelly, office all week. Maybe I’ll have a few days off work after all. Sick days anyway.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tGy0dsnd0fs/T-jJ5BxhfzI/AAAAAAAAA7g/34vVEzxYgKY/s1600-h/IMAG0393%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0393" border="0" alt="IMAG0393" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ZYwPn6YhFK8/T-jJ5b9FiwI/AAAAAAAAA7k/r-5pvA4wsXs/IMAG0393_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="156" height="258"></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x4a7BcABr8k/T-jJ5gpzlEI/AAAAAAAAA7o/gsqg1_SgZoU/s1600-h/IMAG0389%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0389" border="0" alt="IMAG0389" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QP8L7_Hs2g0/T-jJ6ikeCOI/AAAAAAAAA7s/gTL5sZcfHVQ/IMAG0389_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="156" height="258"></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fNxFAuCxbH8/T-jJ69TO8tI/AAAAAAAAA7w/vA1diyYju7w/s1600-h/IMAG0392%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0392" border="0" alt="IMAG0392" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WP9I-PMbuGQ/T-jJ7GUOf5I/AAAAAAAAA70/7gOn_0BvPCw/IMAG0392_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="156" height="258"></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--p4IDpx0xCg/T-jJ7RSGeXI/AAAAAAAAA74/tcpfJz_mSU0/s1600-h/IMAG0396%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMAG0396" border="0" alt="IMAG0396" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aiUr-psnGPw/T-jJ7wJ3FOI/AAAAAAAAA78/DeVM79KO4ps/IMAG0396_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="156" height="258"></a></p> <p>Think I can get that covered by Worker’s Comp? </p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-57931197924682148342012-06-20T13:39:00.001-06:002012-06-20T14:00:05.147-06:00Sir Campsalot<p align="justify">I have been wanting to go camping for a while (I’ve been craving a solid dose of <a href="http://juliesnutshell.blogspot.com/2012/06/mother-earth-is-my-home-girl.html">nature</a> lately) so last Friday, my birthday, I convinced Bradford to come with me and away we went.<br><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-64D1na1OHm8/T-IrduQKJvI/AAAAAAAAA48/fOaMDpzIHMA/s1600-h/CIMG2820%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: 0px" title="CIMG2820" border="0" alt="CIMG2820" align="right" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPg4jhYaPu5yhiQ7TPql5PWI0vNKQ3JBXWDu7vO23Xpq9FSS7-VQM1xEgrJlOwZiUAqHLdEXhKWldyYkM3JvqTK4wkCKkQQsfSYXCc62eVC6xfDlfkTTjSPB4pes4ApblLx3rkP2POTs/?imgmax=800" width="342" height="229"></a><br>Bradford called his dad to get an idea for a good, not-too-far-away, cheap (ie-free), campsite. After their conversation, we settled on West Desert. <br><br>The drive was lovely and after exploring a few options we finally settled in to our <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAOLkB5n3MWAlg4qdVhz50MdnsskIufjBijvSK73O_T7ua0JmdduSRSE5MorYDMpiWCSl5obCJXqkEzTpyXtYGE_-uXxW_WKTAl9ezf1uhp_pml3Z15fKyeW1U6IevDxfMl41CTE9SNc/s1600-h/CIMG2832%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: 0px" title="CIMG2832" border="0" alt="CIMG2832" align="left" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-khCW9KIjhmo/T-Im1EEz4xI/AAAAAAAAAzk/hinC65_FxaQ/CIMG2832_thumb%25255B9%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="166" height="247"></a>chosen campsite. We were really glad that it was so remote. Even with all the motorists enjoying the hills, our site was quiet and undisturbed.<br><br>We brought hotdogs to roast over the fire for dinner, chips and salsa, makings for s’mores, popcorn, and bagels for breakfast (though we ended up eating s’mores and hotdogs again in the morning, too. Yum!). <br><br>We talked, played some cards, ate a bunch of food, and enjoyed being outside. It was a lot of relaxing fun. I don’t think Bradford will want to play Go Fish or Slap Jack with me any time too soon though, I beat him just about every game. I’m just <em>too</em> good at games that depend on random luck, apparently. <br><br>One of the many things I like about Bradford is that he too likes to camp. He also enjoys minimalist camping. Especially just for overnight camping jaunts, I hate packing a ton of stuff and hauling a bunch of things we may/may not use. I love that he likes to keep it simple. We sat on rocks, used the cardboard box that carried our firewood as a table, and roasted our hotdogs and marshmallows on sticks we found in the wild (which proved to be a bit of a challenge- not too many real trees out there in the desert). <br><br></p> <div align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YiulKYxbobc/T-Im1phtaQI/AAAAAAAAA3M/fDWl16LK72g/s1600-h/CIMG2807%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2807" border="0" alt="CIMG2807" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QmkCmWRU_TU/T-Im1xg0brI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/6-vxhFyWx-o/CIMG2807_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="166" height="247"></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-prquf1IRObc/T-Im2cvFKBI/AAAAAAAAA3U/qcvaKko95nU/s1600-h/CIMG2816%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2816" border="0" alt="CIMG2816" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-1zD0d7VXoI4/T-Im2wDCoxI/AAAAAAAAA3Y/SUyvSCVE8hA/CIMG2816_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="166" height="247"></a><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-i-f_cexvaFU/T-Im3idkSmI/AAAAAAAAA3c/8AE6-S3rWlA/s1600-h/CIMG2845%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2845" border="0" alt="CIMG2845" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mdh8hVxJ5ak/T-Im3wATogI/AAAAAAAAA3g/XfM7DIuVI80/CIMG2845_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="166" height="247"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfvy72FQPcrY2yb8te_mjXUD8yoMVzpObhfhyphenhyphenVZPfZRyk6s6KLFx8zxWzgLNhOuDEGNeSrtUkZt8qxh6EyyJ2nZUK07tP2BVnrKajhx3JDetO31MFolf1ZCyO0c5lkFiT1zt9HKISyf8/s1600-h/CIMG2827%25255B19%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: 0px" title="CIMG2827" border="0" alt="CIMG2827" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-oO8F7gVfTvY/T-Im4icY8II/AAAAAAAAA3o/OYyp9VEUJCU/CIMG2827_thumb%25255B17%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="166" height="247"></a></div> <div align="center"><br></div> <p align="justify">We initially planned to just sleep outside in the wide open, me in my sleeping bag and him in/on a bunch of blankets (though his sleeping arrangements were more lack of planning than pure minimalism). Our campsite, however, had a lot of “burrow” looking holes around it and I was soon convinced that I would wake up with a snake snuggled next to my face. Luckily for my face, I have a tent that I always keep in my car (thanks to very limited closet space in my apartment, my car has become an extra storage facility), so we set it up and slept in that instead. Good thing, too. We heard more than one critter scuttling around during the night. We even tried to catch a glimpse of a few by shining our flashlight through the mesh tent window which, in actuality, probably just scared them off.<br><br>I love camping and hope to do a lot more of it this summer. <br><br></p> <div align="center"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-e0vjaeN5kj8/T-Im47n3JtI/AAAAAAAAA4c/6-WG-dl9u_w/s1600-h/CIMG2831%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2831" border="0" alt="CIMG2831" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jPhUhhpI3EQ/T-Im5uA0pqI/AAAAAAAAA4g/jt5hOIchATw/CIMG2831_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="204" height="137"></a><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-qe9Kb0-RHqU/T-Im51T2LHI/AAAAAAAAA4k/yXDGrzZlK94/s1600-h/CIMG2837%25255B14%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2837" border="0" alt="CIMG2837" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-A2915vNTmT0/T-Im6Yc-GuI/AAAAAAAAA4o/lS38x2IT1NQ/CIMG2837_thumb%25255B12%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="204" height="138"></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GqFWq6vWA4A/T-Im6lGNuuI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Ed1FBPU2x98/s1600-h/CIMG2844%25255B14%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2844" border="0" alt="CIMG2844" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VgwMHtnm70g/T-Im7LUQAQI/AAAAAAAAA4w/bYQ8KOofcxU/CIMG2844_thumb%25255B12%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="204" height="138"></a></div> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-18774164227878386932012-06-15T09:55:00.001-06:002012-06-15T09:55:17.707-06:00Quarter Century<p>Today is my birthday. </p> <p>I am 25 years young.</p> <p>Some of my friends told me they felt “old” turning 25 but I don’t feel it.</p> <p>Does that mean I’m immature?</p> <p>Or maybe I’m just young at heart?</p> <p>I’ll claim the latter.</p> <p>Maybe it’s because I still look 16. That might be part of it. </p> <p>I bet I’ll love that when I’m 40!</p> <p>Hopefully.</p> <p>Here’s to another year. Let it bring what it may. </p> <p>Just please don’t do me in… </p> <p>Happy Birthday!</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UA45PT8Upjg/T9ta4h6balI/AAAAAAAAAy0/fQGvFqE_lRI/s1600-h/imagejpeg_2_5%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="imagejpeg_2_5" border="0" alt="imagejpeg_2_5" align="left" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9GzsFySyZEDJUIEGWcGsw-NwrniVCPMv84rcc-nNGwA02NwsfsZY4VUcO1e4ac5KXVv-60NwHIH82V6YDn0dJCw6R3drdMiQ98pc2ynhLQegVMghbKpH1UN5q1M3R6jRT0pb_MTbgCE/?imgmax=800" width="413" height="311"></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><em><font size="1">picture taken at my 1920s themed birthday party last Saturday. Hopefully I will get more pictures of it soon. Then I will do a full post about it.</font></em></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-22980101593634261512012-06-14T09:40:00.001-06:002012-06-14T09:57:10.207-06:00Mother Earth is my Home Girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjl1QOIlrDI1LPICVOnozx6ajFiDF-8WLsfAIE3dDWz90LnXGDSEbKRVpVtIOzY5mYpoWUKz728_Ba8ah4pothLyZc0DCUrrLLzi_Ilyz-WZfo3D3oxgTU7BBIrE3z_l7Ama5OovecBw/s1600-h/CIMG2756%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img align="left" alt="CIMG2756" border="0" height="164" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bBY_rfR1Ju8/T9oFuGGTaTI/AAAAAAAAAr0/HsSeuTKf2II/CIMG2756_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;" title="CIMG2756" width="244" /></a>I was driving to work this morning and I remembered: I LOVE outside. <br />
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It was a beautiful morning, warm, sunny, everything was green and glowing from the early sun. I loved it. Being outside (especially in the summer time) is like medicine for my psyche. I love it. It makes me want to quit my job, pack up Charlie, and go play in a field all day. <br />
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A few Sundays ago Bradford and I drove up Butterfield Canyon. He had run up it the previous day with his brother and thought it was a really pretty area and wanted to take me up to see it too. It was a beautiful drive. And I am so glad that Bradford didn’t expect me to run up it also. <br />
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At the top of the mountain you can over look a few of the counties as well as get a pretty neat view inside the Bingham Copper Mine.<br />
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<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-k_oFooE9ULA/T9oFujc-JtI/AAAAAAAAAxk/nwNB3WT8BKw/s1600-h/CIMG2767%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2767" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_AC_1XWh_Lw/T9oFu3RdraI/AAAAAAAAAxo/ZlkeFvKG54s/CIMG2767_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2767" width="219" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCgwQJ_1yOkkG4pEg10Yr_OOLsjjCd0HWsjbkIqUYUUjic2PxV55K35ibcJZEPP8ng7jA88SUV-p9Ncu5kHLNpWNMiqw0qxwqkluZ7XRb8A0M6-0JzgeCdeDmKgIw_Z6siciUOoVwoG0/s1600-h/CIMG2748%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2748" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1JB_BLmQEqw/T9oFvu7Qt_I/AAAAAAAAAxw/Z781S2zijWI/CIMG2748_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2748" width="219" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MZSbJ9SFXIs/T9oFv0Ed74I/AAAAAAAAAx0/Bpm26kdvvFg/s1600-h/CIMG2749%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2749" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mrhN8AqsKbc/T9oFwbrGKhI/AAAAAAAAAx4/4eLnDomnIlQ/CIMG2749_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2749" width="219" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NQj4iCjRJgw/T9oFwuN2A5I/AAAAAAAAAx8/95eU0gcB4Ws/s1600-h/CIMG2750%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2750" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-r_Fj0etgywU/T9oFxD2hCPI/AAAAAAAAAyA/v3DTiDqFgI0/CIMG2750_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2750" width="219" /></a> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qN8yh_TqTFU/T9oFxaqmlmI/AAAAAAAAAyE/7JaX4lMnotQ/s1600-h/CIMG2753%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2753" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EmTZJFl0bW0/T9oFx9bBelI/AAAAAAAAAyI/FJL-LqEBm0M/CIMG2753_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2753" width="219" /></a> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-79CO0v0nTBA/T9oFyW84raI/AAAAAAAAAyM/Cach1FOAzJY/s1600-h/CIMG2755%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2755" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HBnsE5c4suM/T9oFyit_hQI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/lXnI4oFBejo/CIMG2755_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2755" width="219" /></a> </div>
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There is a little bit of a hippie in me. It surfaces in a few areas of my life and being outside is definitely one of those. I very much believe that there is a connection between nature and our souls. Maybe it’s the trace amount of American Indian in my blood? <br />
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It probably has something (or everything) to do with sensing the majesty of all the beauty around me, in the trees, the sky, the landscapes… it makes me feel like I must be pretty amazing too, seeing how I was created by the same hands that made all this. Not often enough do I remember that. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoLS9IqoptotcHeh_dVxZZaNOnL0nDJmAp23xiBqiu7-6knGn259WlO22hOrhjGnewcAdTtYLQVOGJMVrxDimeefcEgtxEHCzlWjWWoNNyZgzjmRDJjEuk6eHQ9vxOl4pJ7mvclPsyq4M/s1600-h/CIMG2761%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2761" border="0" height="149" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0cf2-cphXbQ/T9oFzU0n7CI/AAAAAAAAAyY/XBoOlneJUXg/CIMG2761_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2761" width="219" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jJhW7plE4U8/T9oFz_ARthI/AAAAAAAAAyc/aLRa0UDi11o/s1600-h/CIMG2765%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2765" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kQ7uVabutgM/T9oF0YI1cpI/AAAAAAAAAyg/ueKQshSrM8o/CIMG2765_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2765" width="219" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1xYQJ0sgvX4yq_4TXX-Fe1gLyLU8RbfGSCrXtALw4WWgmac5d5eJ29H9YSr3WcgDvNIVCZrlk7QjRuwe8zHJ_a0fatG3lQWabPGFCv-UUb8dfJwZ2Wt6bLs1rrlujzEkjrzZP4vh0rk/s1600-h/CIMG2766%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2766" border="0" height="148" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VdOCKjUFGwQ/T9oF1OHjeRI/AAAAAAAAAyo/uI4xqKe445w/CIMG2766_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2766" width="219" /></a></div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-83545581026248415562012-06-12T14:47:00.001-06:002012-06-15T09:59:50.880-06:00In and OutThis isn’t news to anyone, but some days are just hard. Aren’t they? And “days” can in some cases even be weeks. I’m feeling the weight lately. The silliest part is, I always know what will make me feel better. And I usually know what the answers are or at least where to find the answers. It’s only a matter of following the formula. Sometimes its hard, though, to get out of the wallowing. Especially when it seems that everything keeps pushing you back down into it. <br><br>Not a pity post. It just helps sometimes to talk about it, even without actually talking about it.<br><br>Even if to nobody in particular. <br><br>Thanks cyber-space. <br><br><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5UlOiFpxtJQ/T9eq689c1nI/AAAAAAAAArU/ig1snHEPvs0/s1600-h/IMAG0301%25255B38%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="IMAG0301" border="0" alt="IMAG0301" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3k5tiaij_7Y/T9eq7FDYKZI/AAAAAAAAArc/WU-fDu6ROG4/IMAG0301_thumb%25255B39%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="401" height="527"></a> <br> That face always makes me smile.<br><br>Cheers to a better tomorrow/next week! Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-1192484793439192372012-06-11T13:18:00.001-06:002012-06-11T18:11:01.045-06:00Whirly TwirlyThis past Friday, Bradford and I went to the Orem city carnival with our friends, Justin and <a href="http://lifeofapasseri.blogspot.com/">Heather</a>. The city park (the very park where Bradford and I had our first date over 5 1/2 years ago) was transformed with food vendors, booths selling their many wares, mini-concerts, and temporary carnival rides. All the things you’d expect to find at a carnival (though no clowns sighted, thank the lovely heavens). <br />
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After chowing down on some delicious roasted corn on the cob, teriyaki chicken, burgers, navajo tacos, and funnel cake, we decided to take our newly full tummies on some of the rides. In hindsight, that could have been disastrous. And very unpleasant. Luckily for us, and everyone else, we kept dinner down. (Sidenote- does anyone else get a <span style="font-size: xx-small;">teensy</span> bit nervous about hopping onto a collapsible, transportable, ride that flips and spins every which way?)<br />
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First up was the ferris wheel. I had never been on a ferris wheel and I must say it was an enjoyable experience. Even despite the fact that Bradford thought it was fun to tip the car and nearly dump us out. Though it was mostly only scary because I was trying to also take pictures, meaning I didn’t have free hands to hold on to anything. Once I stowed the camera away (realizing he most likely wouldn’t stop) it was more exhilarating than terrifying. However, I found that my trust in him to not kill me has slightly diminished after that experience. <br />
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-5RaXLDN7_LE/T9ZEYOipoWI/AAAAAAAAAoA/-FFkTZfXphI/s1600-h/CIMG2772%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2772" border="0" height="181" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ka6Z6GZZV-8/T9ZEYwZbH4I/AAAAAAAAAoI/BD72LhmyUYo/CIMG2772_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2772" width="270" /></a> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-b_y0C_t1Ftw/T9ZEZAS_8vI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/tcmVUbO0Log/s1600-h/CIMG2776%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2776" border="0" height="181" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qYJIbMVA0DA/T9ZEZT-puUI/AAAAAAAAAoY/9qLC26zFpdc/CIMG2776_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2776" width="270" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3OQZ8eGsLbk5DN7ZcDLa0jG_5xacremOz75n3pnL3qCFvq7Jbx5-9UTkF8E0T2zVoyNXABJ3EUfojECUpcIeWMGyoljgDLPW7JFasc9cQduPXSe1qV__eYTxHaLsLoSlreZfOTlJNBWE/s1600-h/CIMG2789%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2789" border="0" height="181" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QeP8GKgatR4/T9ZEaMZp1NI/AAAAAAAAAoo/lzSZuusxm5Q/CIMG2789_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2789" width="270" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqP5pvSEYjX7BEftlk-iRC5Qu8POJ_scv5YG2KEr_YKEm3eW0HiyvSjVHJKkylx6H7vLouLEAI99NiYy9vuK1gI_cVYGmlLqGD5q5KkG8RdZrOD8qKEWbMDNU7g0GeR4dEwl1sAxs8nsA/s1600-h/CIMG2792%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2792" border="0" height="181" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dLMwziPKseY/T9ZEawTkJuI/AAAAAAAAAo4/arq3WESVi54/CIMG2792_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2792" width="270" /></a> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-k5ZfbO9B6ok/T9ZEbGWZ6wI/AAAAAAAAApA/WUbo-oyaxts/s1600-h/CIMG2793%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2793" border="0" height="181" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-HJS8QDjoX8k/T9ZEbnqC8lI/AAAAAAAAApI/wIMaI2U3Z3o/CIMG2793_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="CIMG2793" width="270" /></a> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hmgn7QdXxck/T9ZEbzxqDlI/AAAAAAAAApQ/va3DIlwLXrI/s1600-h/IMAG0345%25255B13%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMAG0345" border="0" height="181" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Vqf1k2L6OzE/T9ZEcWVTv7I/AAAAAAAAApY/Ouh4z2EHoNQ/IMAG0345_thumb%25255B11%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="IMAG0345" width="270" /></a> </div>
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After that, the three of us watched and waited as Justin took a turn on the swings. <br />
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Next, we headed over to the Zipper. Apparently this was the ride to ride because everyone and their grandpa was in this line. Maybe not grandpas actually, since I think we were some of the oldest people in line... I guess city carnivals make a good Friday night hangout for the local middle/high schoolers. <br />
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After about an hour of waiting, with very little hope of the line getting any smaller any time soon (plus we thought everything was going to shut down before we could get on it anyway), we hopped over to the ride next to us that had no line at all and rode that instead. The Gravitron it was. You know those things that you stand against the wall and it spins really fast and you can’t move because the centrifugal force is keeping you in place? I was surprised at everyone turning themselves upside down and every which way on the wall, I could barely move my arms let alone my entire self. Also, Heather, being a responsible future mother, sat out for that ride. Sorry we abandoned you Heather, next time you’ll be right there with us! <br />
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<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-V2Wg2AR76C8/T9ZKi102ekI/AAAAAAAAAqo/Gz7gZZ3to8w/s1600-h/CIMG2791%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2791" border="0" height="209" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--dtCIjtOAAU/T9ZEc1mWEiI/AAAAAAAAAqw/ioAjhDFBLDg/CIMG2791_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px currentColor; display: inline;" title="CIMG2791" width="140" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9LfS4NeY70Q/T9ZEdcPvh4I/AAAAAAAAAq0/OTxbq2pI9Ro/s1600-h/IMAG0346%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img alt="IMAG0346" border="0" height="209" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JlATCo0fBkc/T9ZEd9R72SI/AAAAAAAAAq4/6XVf7u72gjs/IMAG0346_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px currentColor; display: inline;" title="IMAG0346" width="140" /></a> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-z7aonH1B2so/T9ZEePROk4I/AAAAAAAAArE/rmX6ilZ5jA4/s1600-h/CIMG2796%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img alt="CIMG2796" border="0" height="209" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-zsFy217DMsw/T9ZEenGeoyI/AAAAAAAAArI/_i_2kjys3Ww/CIMG2796_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px currentColor; display: inline;" title="CIMG2796" width="140" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-vDE5L0Fj75k/T9ZEe6nJMBI/AAAAAAAAAq8/rp4mt_5Ae-4/s1600-h/IMAG0354%252520%2525281%252529.jpg"><img alt="IMAG0354 (1)" border="0" height="209" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Tw3b_OLcOxM/T9ZEfUC41gI/AAAAAAAAArA/pktBB5C2Cek/IMAG0354%252520%2525281%252529_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px currentColor; display: inline;" title="IMAG0354 (1)" width="140" /></a> </div>
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Thanks Justin and Heather for a fun night!<br />
<br />
P.S. Saturday night we had a Birthday party. For me. It was 1920s themed. I don’t have any pictures yet, but stay tuned!Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-28721628966142725282012-06-06T14:57:00.001-06:002012-06-11T13:46:04.884-06:00At Long Last<p>Alright, I couldn't quite last a whole year before another post. At least I tried! (That sounds so much better than, "Whoops, its been almost a year and I still haven't posted a thing!"...) <p>On to the important matters- I've been missing the old blog and need to spend some more time here I think. I feel that documenting the small happenings in my life will help me feel less mundane and boring. So hopefully there will be more to see 'round these parts more regularly. <p>Also, a not-so-mundane-nor-boring-matter, I went to Italy for two weeks last month. Bliss, I tell you. Soon enough I will bombard you with all the delicious details. <p>Until then, here's a small sampling from the trip to tide you over:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sR6iBHeVURk/T8_EG4MB3gI/AAAAAAAAAmg/58CkXeaMi-0/s1600-h/CIMG2154%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2154" border="0" alt="CIMG2154" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-p0U3prznIUY/T8_EHB1dFhI/AAAAAAAAAmo/x2zru8pGw74/CIMG2154_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-iaRzGfbKqfvZv7ZVY_zX8Sc0sQUanYknyNMkqaCd4ob-7L-BqusmBvnP8LddrTKbn4NNi3kc8Z2RvCtpzWFl5vx6OapItEj_C-EVfiRzzhAY2_cRhG_VIiYO7Q4kzhX8tHfU9dhZ_k/s1600-h/CIMG2617%25255B13%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2617" border="0" alt="CIMG2617" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XscBZ3GaKZE/T8_EIIF_-NI/AAAAAAAAAm4/J7dHdP-Tzmo/CIMG2617_thumb%25255B11%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4evuJntpgyUFCIAfriRK8XHASo-XhhENa5lnjuHz0_ZjH4CAMZR3FwpuXh_woBc3cEhQGQZKXy4XdUtZ8gbtzddmR3UcLC8ctTsDtP4r1TxFd8t215_Eq1RtJA22Px_nXYaiq4ojKII/s1600-h/CIMG2664%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2664" border="0" alt="CIMG2664" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_Sbwue_tJHg/T8_EJIVm_TI/AAAAAAAAAnI/eUvKSrMA2FM/CIMG2664_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-87a3Xiag2Hal2VDYkavt5g8RFIhgCIGB5bUotXuVHkuSF9YBb-wvE2wQD0gsGPiZo9fVC7HwHOVgM7z3zk_JAwAu9h5WN-sfUI6qJQcdx-wHg89JZepJYnROKcStCZQALrezl0dVrMw/s1600-h/CIMG2418%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="CIMG2418" border="0" alt="CIMG2418" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_nvGuBK9RqQ/T8_EJ9JIncI/AAAAAAAAAnY/nUQg1NGcJLs/CIMG2418_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="331"></a></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-79190207517208096002011-06-30T11:48:00.013-06:002011-07-01T11:39:19.636-06:00Seeing Red No MoreFor a while now I've been planning on re-covering my <a href="http://juliesnutshell.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-tomatoes.html">couch</a>. The <a href="http://juliesnutshell.blogspot.com/2009/09/red.html">red suede</a> just isn't doing it for me anymore. I want a crisp, clean, looking front room and red has proven to be my adversary in finding harmony in that design.<br /><br />I initially wanted to cover it in something very textural. Like a large weave linen or tweed in a grey or very pale blue. However, I need about 20-25 yds of fabric and finding something that was sturdy enough, cheap enough, and that I liked proved to be much harder than I'd hoped.<br /><br />After dozens of swatches later (as well as falling in love with a select few then having to heart-wrenchingly break up with them after realizing there was no way I could justify spending $250+ on fabric alone, ew) I was pretty frustrated.<br /><br />The thought of keeping red so central in the room really bugged me and I could not come to terms with keeping it as is. Finally, I was struck with inspiration as I remembered a current "trend" right now of using canvas drop cloths as rugs, <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-O617pVggUx4/Tg03jvVc5XI/AAAAAAAAAiI/IlWBLCdiOh0/s1600-h/dropcloth%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; FLOAT: right; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="dropcloth" border="0" alt="dropcloth" align="right" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-GhEf2m8cZ0o/Tg03kX-0yKI/AAAAAAAAAiM/ddy9A_R0Fpo/dropcloth_thumb%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="219" height="289" /></a>curtains, slipcovers, etc. Though it wasn't an original idea of my own, I still felt pretty clever (and re-motivated) heading down this avenue.<br /><br />I went to Lowes to see what they had and to determine if they would, indeed, be sturdy enough (and un-ugly enough) to work as my material. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was just about the best option all around I was likely to find.<br /><br />They have a slew of different options as far as size goes and I found one that is 9 feet wide by 12 feet long. I ended up buying 3 of them to start off with, figuring I can always buy another if I end up needing it. Total cost for these suckers? 55 dollahs. Done.<br />The color is pretty light. Lighter than I had wanted, practically blending into the color of my walls, but with the way I'll decorate around it it should work just fine. At least it will be a significant improvement from the red.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zmazk92mRCs/Tg03k6b9tYI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/MF8-BvPpEBc/s1600-h/2%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; MARGIN: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="2" border="0" alt="2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YBuzsCs-pp8/Tg03ldRb3oI/AAAAAAAAAiU/o53XJhtVioU/2_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="148" height="244" /></a> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-h9g5TDB_oN8/Tg03l078M9I/AAAAAAAAAiY/r1NAEoPJcEM/s1600-h/3%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; MARGIN: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="3" border="0" alt="3" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-bcB-FTGJru0/Tg03mn5eEjI/AAAAAAAAAic/jwsIsPdz8Og/3_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="148" height="244" /></a> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KULUj4MOtu0/Tg03nVbqdyI/AAAAAAAAAig/R1SsGG-skAk/s1600-h/6%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="6" border="0" alt="6" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5kSBJZOwUZQ/Tg03oDBBEbI/AAAAAAAAAik/nITmq5lyDgs/6_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="148" height="244" /></a><br /></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">(Notice: Charlie has his socks close, just in case he gets bored destroying things.)</span><br /></p><br /><p align="left">Last night I started cutting out the pieces. Since I want it to look as if its been upholstered (without having to actually rip off the existing fabric and re-upholster it) and I don't want it to look sloppy as if an, ahem, drop cloth had just been thrown over it, I decided to make a pattern of sorts. I used newspaper pages and pinned and cut them to fit the couch and then laid them out on the fabric and cut around them (adding an inch or so to allow for the seams). </p><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7CUjcA80brU/Tg03ov5zH_I/AAAAAAAAAio/ayMeXhKhvO0/s1600-h/5%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="5" border="0" alt="5" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xBRJEDXOmjo/Tg03pX7jT3I/AAAAAAAAAis/HduBSeW6ejk/5_thumb%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="455" height="275" /></a><br /></p>Charlie, always having to be involved in whatever I'm doing, even if it means occasionally being stepped on (oops) because he is always underfoot, decided he was going to help. A few half-eaten patterns, flinging fabric scraps around the room, and dumping out all my pins from their container later though, I decided it was time for bed. For the both of us.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-OhPv7p7TlGE/Tg03qJ_BHmI/AAAAAAAAAiw/Zx5OGdwydsE/s1600-h/4%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="4" border="0" alt="4" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tsYtMMuKJDM/Tg03q5n0ejI/AAAAAAAAAi0/rgFxlRHhwMU/4_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="452" height="273" /></a><br /></p>The rest of the couch will have to wait for another day.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-OmM4HxMbZ8M/Tg03ruK8GyI/AAAAAAAAAi4/NA7VGW4uoAw/s1600-h/1%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: none; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; DISPLAY: inline; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px" title="1" border="0" alt="1" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x-J97gfluWQ/Tg03sRnXgrI/AAAAAAAAAi8/kP5UaQpBWmA/1_thumb%25255B9%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="308" height="356" /></a><br /></p>(Next time I may also find a bunny babysitter... any takers?).<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*I used a lot of ( )s this post (also commas). That's probably somehow bad grammar. </span><a href="http://aprilchereeage.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size:78%;">April</span></a><span style="font-size:78%;">? Can you look into that for me? You're a pal.<em> </em></span>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-7658448163236399392011-06-28T08:55:00.011-06:002012-06-11T13:47:53.988-06:00Its the Little Things<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOURoNGYmj_REFrLi92dtvgFhz5nERWxBX303_i3HQ-kJtawpP5qqeBHv0Fxmg0V_QYgNKBFZ5fpLgqfJrX-Rekw6NSNELa0sn9OICFK2Tt2PgkGzGE8rfAT2zMmY29e1d3pCFXBV9Mx0/s1600/2.jpg"><img align="left" alt="" border="0" height="286" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623297732843995282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOURoNGYmj_REFrLi92dtvgFhz5nERWxBX303_i3HQ-kJtawpP5qqeBHv0Fxmg0V_QYgNKBFZ5fpLgqfJrX-Rekw6NSNELa0sn9OICFK2Tt2PgkGzGE8rfAT2zMmY29e1d3pCFXBV9Mx0/s400/2.jpg" style="background-image: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline; float: left; height: 287px; margin: 0px 0px 0px 7px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 171px;" width="171" /></a>Last night, as I was crashed out on the couch and trying to keep myself awake until it was a more decent time to fall asleep for the night, I occupied myself with watching Charlie explore my living room. After the usual series of jumps and multiple attempts to chew my carpet without me catching him (naughty rabbit!), he flopped himself down on his belly and laid there, searching the room for something else to get into.<br />
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Not very long after that, he discovered a rogue, balled up, pair of socks that, unbeknownst to me, had tumbled off my laundry pile earlier that week. I was curious to see what damage he planned to inflict on the innocent cottons, would he chew it to shreds? Dig at it and scratch holes in it? As I watched him evaluate the black blob of socks, probably asking himself the same questions I just had, I was surprised at the relatively calm approach he decided to take.<br />
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He pushed it. With his nose. Over and over again. For almost an hour.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEU2cJvy9tURYB1B2CzwBoG_3yl1HgDCytFxN7BkpvGcNpkbon7O2KwYFUT_mpU3aTVk9a9uZBSGhyphenhyphensrE2aZomQQ1icIzEjGfi2J_yTDLzzxxBNQWRm-xf5cHr1mWuI3oEIukRol7qPZ4/s1600/6.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623297737411292818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEU2cJvy9tURYB1B2CzwBoG_3yl1HgDCytFxN7BkpvGcNpkbon7O2KwYFUT_mpU3aTVk9a9uZBSGhyphenhyphensrE2aZomQQ1icIzEjGfi2J_yTDLzzxxBNQWRm-xf5cHr1mWuI3oEIukRol7qPZ4/s400/6.jpg" style="height: 372px; width: 234px;" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-d98vWwt9eGX0XFex7f1HWwc07RnkqQfrssu42EpMyx7qcQBcdzNyGOUahzwxF0ZyTP1AOr_xlSILGlq_1JetaMUvD5CqOv63KPRbY3zTkQqIAqETPskPKFff7Acla7ureFRZlrhBgwM/s1600/5.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623297738064504466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-d98vWwt9eGX0XFex7f1HWwc07RnkqQfrssu42EpMyx7qcQBcdzNyGOUahzwxF0ZyTP1AOr_xlSILGlq_1JetaMUvD5CqOv63KPRbY3zTkQqIAqETPskPKFff7Acla7ureFRZlrhBgwM/s400/5.jpg" style="height: 373px; width: 226px;" /></a></div>
He just nudged it in circles, around the room, so intent and focused the entire time on pushing, and pushing, and pushing. Whodda thought? I guess I shouldn't bother spending money on buying toys for him anymore. He always prefers the more simple things anyway.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvv3k8ihCTiinJ-r4nifjiv8utWN_NFLwN-L9R7VGmI2W3vcr-DLoQXD52VivvqJltrNg7fsYgo4HlZbgqG3UOTWKs6HP1lpDiHWbi1W1mKqioUb1f64LmvN8DPOThqRSdInBRoEqE9Ug/s1600/7.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623297739117885698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvv3k8ihCTiinJ-r4nifjiv8utWN_NFLwN-L9R7VGmI2W3vcr-DLoQXD52VivvqJltrNg7fsYgo4HlZbgqG3UOTWKs6HP1lpDiHWbi1W1mKqioUb1f64LmvN8DPOThqRSdInBRoEqE9Ug/s400/7.jpg" style="display: block; float: none; height: 462px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 297px;" /></a><br />
Like chewing/eating/shredding phone books or anything else lying around that's paper.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEed1_Unnwvi3K0C01yEnVHjUKK8EX6ntRoSvRl_XefSIsVrGslZZHWNntxXdOKZ4xFw5yWLMiF20ROMibY47E8Zg7iLxzOdWe5EibDKpkIxe7rI_Jp6XZ6SVfns1yYRYdba6wAtLqPo/s1600/1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="500" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623301456046747698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEed1_Unnwvi3K0C01yEnVHjUKK8EX6ntRoSvRl_XefSIsVrGslZZHWNntxXdOKZ4xFw5yWLMiF20ROMibY47E8Zg7iLxzOdWe5EibDKpkIxe7rI_Jp6XZ6SVfns1yYRYdba6wAtLqPo/s400/1.jpg" style="display: block; float: none; height: 501px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 299px;" width="299" /></a>Should I be concerned?<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">*Again, all pictures courtesy of my cell phone... I should get my real camera charged eh?</span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: 78%;"><em>**Also, Charlie's favorite activity is NOT holding still so most of them are blurry. Take it up with the bunny.</em></span> <br />
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<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">*** And he is not evil, even though his eyes are red in most of the pictures. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">****Ha. Just kidding. There's not another note. Thank you and class dismissed. </span></em></div>
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</div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-64559036538914564232011-06-21T08:37:00.022-06:002012-06-11T13:47:00.755-06:00Sir SquishyBefore Bradford left to Alabama for a 28 day long <span style="font-size: 78%;">(22 more days to go!)</span> field training for the Air Force, he gave me a pitcher of cream topped raw milk. I won't say <img align="right" alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620702394119706418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IRMoo2a7ch2g-VT9oEceHHcFNuAiRIqOHGVf6Bde8oOKotLAO_m8Ta6kkJQmG6tvuMlbCsGluvOFzvFnQsB4FpnP9w1RSvjnBJNLClOI1lmc0jRa1xJH-v1wFGc2Zl6HbncD8ByScH4/s400/1.jpg" style="display: inline; float: right; height: 291px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; width: 174px;" />he "bought" it, because according to Sir Padre (no relation to Sir Squishy) the selling of raw milk is illegal in some states. Dumb I say. But that is leading into an entirely different topic for an entirely different day... <br />
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Anyway, however Bradford acquired this milk, he left it with me and said, "be sure to use it before it goes bad." Oops. <br />
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Yesterday morning I sniffed it. <em>Is that the raw milk smell or the raw milk beginning to go sour smell? </em>Still not sure, I tasted it. <em>It doesn't taste THAT bad. But do I want to pour this on a bowl full of cereal? </em>I did not. </div>
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I decided that since it was just barely on the cusp of being bad, and raw milk is a rare treat, and also Bradford stared at me real hard and in all seriousness said "DON'T let this milk go to waste," and I already decided I did not want it touching any of my other food, I quickly found ways to make cheese. </div>
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After skimming a few recipes, I concluded that ricotta cheese seemed the most fool proof and I settled on one from one of my favorite food blogs, <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2011/06/rich-homemade-ricotta/">Smitten Kitchen</a>, which also just so happened to be her most recent post. Coincidence? </div>
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<img alt="" border="0" height="247" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620702401251370194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjzYjeJw2qOS5nvqOshfS6R9njTqvkjE3AmF0GmAoR35hg0x3f-y_wp0lngZuW5oykRrPNjNrg1OyV1I-9DfSGSMAYJIKrC_agH6te8wKL4TxON73ZeRxFYSTeCXtBcoKz2fVIJEj9h8/s400/2.jpg" style="display: inline; height: 248px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; width: 148px;" width="148" /> <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620702408820557890" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZq0rrOp4BrQOIuWlKTvI2hvNR1Se8esDngqC_97afjAbqnAa4FvW2eAvRhn_9MB4rN5WFqFb21FgkvOyuZbBgfeonrgJHhgXsTzrwxOd4daFBriB01Me2IO1cwvJ-cOqstCgR0wVwb9A/s400/3.jpg" style="display: inline; height: 248px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; width: 149px;" /> <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620702410949918546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1lwf-W9BS9OXJCHKATXncmcf8yRc8D-05__b5NAoGU4HXiOZpyJgyOowtoO7d6EvmvgR45zbluJETqgj6DMjFPU4OOeBNIxmTAuSI1gWfOStA7fmMJs3sdWVyC0NRa53Iq8W6uvFRs-M/s400/4.jpg" style="display: inline; height: 248px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center; width: 149px;" /> </div>
Every recipe I've tried from her has been fantastic so I figured I couldn't go wrong. I tweaked it a little, I almost doubled her recipe and I only had lime juice, no lemons, and I went off of memory when I made it so I didn't put as much salt as I probably should have. Also, I didn't use heavy cream since the milk had a fairly thick layer of cream on it already. It turned out pretty darn good, regardless. Something I'll definitely try again. I'm excited to make some crostini with it later this week. <br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620702419351985234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAXzjnItOfCLcqFTo6ZuZXwJiXeJ9jl2ayEpy6_yqpUl_5xUz2VAuPS06ZjpWaMFymY9F3OCm0bnvCIu_rfH-7X7mNONCOxeWMF580D474xeTPsr4veWJug2ysEEgulXbA48t9d1q66Uo/s400/5.jpg" style="display: block; height: 608px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 363px;" />See Bradford? Not a drop wasted. <br />
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<em><span style="font-size: 78%;">*All pictures were taken on my cell phone. Don't judge. *</span></em></div>
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</div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-349651066712221190.post-88658595399318891082011-06-13T09:01:00.009-06:002011-06-14T17:22:32.638-06:00"I cannot live without books." -Thomas JeffersonI love to read. I love when what I am reading impresses me and makes me feel enlightened. I've read things that make me stop and really think, things that express something I've been feeling in a much more eloquent way than I've ever been able to.<br /><br />I am currently reading <em>The Scarlet Pimpernel </em>by Baroness Emmuska Orczy. Now, while it is overall a very lighthearted book, and by no means meant to be deep or philosophical, I was struck by a phrase that I stopped and re-read a few times. I loved the way the words flow and how simply they illustrate a common observation I myself have had:<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;">"...It is only when we are very happy, that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast limitless expanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritating monotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay. When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys." </span></div><br />This phrase isn't incredibly profound or even earth-shattering in its meaning, but I love it just the same.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*I'm about two chapters away from finishing the book and I already highly recommend it to anyone looking for an easy, entertaining read. </span>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12496113820670174190noreply@blogger.com0