tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44233833855815780892024-03-19T01:23:31.971-07:00december and juneAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07361633930351766908noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-808206954496435272015-04-06T10:51:00.002-07:002015-04-06T10:51:41.537-07:00NURSERY.Having a baby gave me an excuse to design a whole new room in our house. I know she probably won't sleep in here for a while, but I hope that it feels peaceful and inspiring for her when she is big enough to spend time in her own little room.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07361633930351766908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-54636862630557688002015-03-20T18:59:00.003-07:002015-03-20T19:40:10.518-07:00A NEW SEASON.It is the first official day of Spring and I'm curled up on the couch sipping mint tea as the rain falls outside. The Seattle gray is settling in for a what is predicted to be weeks and I am dreaming of sunnier days. It was exactly a month ago that Dashel and I escaped to the desert for our last trip as a family of two. On our second night there, we drove to Joshua Tree just before the sun dipped behind the rocks. As we ran through the sand exploring, we found ourselves tangled in cacti, laughing about our impending death by scorpion bite. It seemed like the perfect location to quickly take some maternity pictures* and we grabbed a camera to snap as many as we could before the night set in. I am so grateful we took that time together and so grateful we will have these pictures to remember that magical evening in the desert.<br />
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*I apologize in advance if you were hoping for some naked pictures of me wrapped in a gauzy sheet while Dashel kissed my stomach.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07361633930351766908noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-41053650227110429152015-03-12T15:44:00.000-07:002015-03-12T15:44:42.596-07:00FIRST PICTURE.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOFXxcNMI0gg0glmhpHG1bq1OgBP6ShEqEw9zi7v5-CEX7wObW7uKdD4x8GyrAaRPh1UQ2fPJwmkmM7iFVzd4wolgkkCxrHEkw5KqTBpE8Z72_4LBDOZbv93yMr2M9nBzcHw7ob7tm0Y/s1600/IMG_3202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOFXxcNMI0gg0glmhpHG1bq1OgBP6ShEqEw9zi7v5-CEX7wObW7uKdD4x8GyrAaRPh1UQ2fPJwmkmM7iFVzd4wolgkkCxrHEkw5KqTBpE8Z72_4LBDOZbv93yMr2M9nBzcHw7ob7tm0Y/s1600/IMG_3202.JPG" height="432" width="640" /></a></div>
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Months ago, when we had our first ultrasound we were given a
little envelope with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Baby’s First
Picture”</i> printed across the front. Inside were several blurry images of our
baby’s feet and a profile that closely resembled a monkey. For almost everyone
I am sure that this is, indeed, the first picture they receive of their baby.
But, for us, our very first picture of our baby was an image of a five-day-old
embryo that had been selected as the “best” among its twenty-four
siblings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of a ruptured appendix
that was left untreated for five days when I was a small child, I knew that I
would not be able to make a baby the good old-fashioned way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, our little one would be the result of
some seriously, mind-blowingly crazy science. Becoming a mother was a long, and
often very painful, process and it’s taken a long time for this baby to seem
real to me. I have so much to say about the tears and doctors and feelings and
injections and gratitude and friends that got us to where we are today, but it
seems like too much to write about all at once. So, for now, I’ll just share
this… our baby’s first picture. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07361633930351766908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-9628026333660870402015-03-05T13:37:00.003-08:002015-03-05T14:11:04.213-08:00SHARING.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT5CuPPbQn2ZThP5G5gw-tfmPpveoKTLi0BFIep_gyoHNbuNRe_oIMYWu3T4a-BNvOZG94iaXnG4HAadXdmMQY7QSGjIfvWQWiRIl-Vg9ODCnDvvsAkR-kAYPE5xC7_2te2j2ma70SP7w/s1600/Joshua+Tree+77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT5CuPPbQn2ZThP5G5gw-tfmPpveoKTLi0BFIep_gyoHNbuNRe_oIMYWu3T4a-BNvOZG94iaXnG4HAadXdmMQY7QSGjIfvWQWiRIl-Vg9ODCnDvvsAkR-kAYPE5xC7_2te2j2ma70SP7w/s1600/Joshua+Tree+77.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
My due date is two months from today and, as it approaches, I can't help but feel a little sad that soon I will have to split my time between Dashel and our baby girl. You see, the amazing part about marrying someone you have so much fun with is that everyday feels like you're on a never-ending sleepover with your best friend. We woke up this morning and cuddled for those few, quiet minutes before we had to start racing around getting ready for our day and it occurred to me that soon our time would be interrupted by another tiny person. Writing this I feel like I should only be talking about how excited we are to meet that tiny person. It's true, there is nothing I want more than to hold her, to be her mother, to see Dashel as her father, to watch her grow up. But, at the same time, it will never be "just us" again and, so, I will spend the next two months loving my family of two.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07361633930351766908noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-82294472232398839942013-09-24T10:50:00.005-07:002013-09-24T10:51:40.581-07:00EGGO TO BELGIUM.<div style="text-align: left;">
my roommate <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/RahRahPennants" target="_blank">katie</a> made this comparison of waffles when she was seven weeks old to waffles now, six months later. it's basically the cutest thing i've ever seen, so i figured you'd want to see it too. duh, right? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcl8Ivs2RPkDkVmnBD5fYd-SjMKfKiRWWMqpilXbdNsjyqgxBAlCTazbQvHwxlMM9VgwnP5kvVCVLa8LqEEcfbqjtHS9GygJhbdca2qkTsSbQYTY-UR6-SpjHaKgVQFVQSw-vmgb8cRZV/s1600/wafflesgrowing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcl8Ivs2RPkDkVmnBD5fYd-SjMKfKiRWWMqpilXbdNsjyqgxBAlCTazbQvHwxlMM9VgwnP5kvVCVLa8LqEEcfbqjtHS9GygJhbdca2qkTsSbQYTY-UR6-SpjHaKgVQFVQSw-vmgb8cRZV/s640/wafflesgrowing.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-17423262511592866302013-09-22T12:10:00.000-07:002013-09-22T13:55:55.952-07:00FUNDAY.<div style="text-align: left;">
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this morning i slept in, stumbled into the living room, made a strong pot of coffee, and browsed vintage pennants with my darling and brilliant roommate. (you should probably check out her <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/RahRahPennants" target="_blank">pennants</a>, they're so good!) dashel is making waffles, the ronettes are waking us up by basically begging us to mash potato, and the pups are playing a rousing game of self-fetch. the rain is hitting against the pavement outside and we just turned on football. sigh, i hope this sunday lasts all week. </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHv1aa06mwDZ6IlXxtL40zRQMYZ_MomIgtty78DTSh2Fw3tVTpnG35bE6-CFXUqkDQnB8lXIcLdD0KZ0DolJKrOuDdiRj7BZAasUqa5vyhhUhPBff1MWs9PaPA_bF4R0LnSVxAKQdcuo5h/s1600/funday.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHv1aa06mwDZ6IlXxtL40zRQMYZ_MomIgtty78DTSh2Fw3tVTpnG35bE6-CFXUqkDQnB8lXIcLdD0KZ0DolJKrOuDdiRj7BZAasUqa5vyhhUhPBff1MWs9PaPA_bF4R0LnSVxAKQdcuo5h/s640/funday.jpg" width="640" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-37346980500817478052013-09-20T18:08:00.001-07:002013-09-20T21:27:31.780-07:00RAH! RAH! RAH!<div style="text-align: left;">
i am a joiner. i love joining. it's just fun. it feels good. in fact, just talking about it right now i want to scream, "c'mon everybody, isn't joining great?! let's all make a club about how great joining is!" that's because i am an adult woman who is always trying to start clubs... hot tub club, girl talk club, taylor swift fan club club, under the dome club, books written exclusively by celebrities book club, pasta every monday night club, sock hop sunday club. anytime a group of people can rally together around a common cause i get pretty stoked. (heads up, because of this, i fear i could be easily persuaded to join a cult. go ahead and strongly encourage me to avoid all contact with cults.) so, as you can imagine, i am pretty excited about how on-board everyone is with the seahawks this year. i have friends who have never watched the hawks before wanting to tailgate on sundays, host chili cook-offs while the we score touchdowns, and watch kickoff while enjoying pink champagne and football oreos in the hot tub. as someone who loves joining, i say the more the merrier. i hope you'll join.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-20357248653305578722013-04-30T17:21:00.000-07:002013-05-14T08:22:52.109-07:00COLOR > GRAY.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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i am home sick (for the third day in a row!!!) and i am basically looking for any excuse to do anything that fills time from the comfort of my bed. first, i watched three episodes of sex and the city. i am happy to report that the ladies of sex and city are still 67% relevant. next, i brushed porter from head to toe. i was able to collect enough hair from him that i am sure someone could knit at least one small mitten. let me know if you are interested in his fur for your knitting pleasure.<br />
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after pup grooming, i was looking through my pictures from my recent trip to hawaii. i was sitting there, surrounded by tissues, drinking licorice tea, and and thought, "hey, my mom would like to see these!" so, i posted the pictures to facebook. less than a minute later, i took them down. because, here's the thing, i am stuck in a confusing place where i am happy about all the things happening in my life but i also feel terribly worried and aware that my happiness upsets others. i don't know how to find a balance or reconciliation between these conflicting feelings. on the one hand, i know that i deserve to be happy. on the other hand, i want everyone else to be happy too.</div>
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for the last few months i've been talking about how my life feels like it falls in some sort of gray area. everything used to be easy. i had strong opinions on what my life should be like and what was the "right thing" to do. it was black and white. then everything got messy. i wasn't sure what the "right thing" was anymore. life was complicated and confusing. it seemed like i was in some sort of gray area.</div>
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but, the thing is, my life is not gray. it is full of love and beauty and fun and friendship and none of that can be described as gray. so, i am done saying my life falls in the gray area. sure, it's not black and white anymore, but it's definitely not gray either. </div>
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and you know what else was the opposite of gray? HAWAII! it was all sunhats and convertible and sno-cones and chickens and iced coffees and saltwater sandals all day everyday. so, let's look at that, because i prefer color to gray.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-86568820633071995432013-03-26T12:37:00.000-07:002013-03-26T12:57:39.169-07:00NO WORDS.i have attempted to start this post so many times in so many ways but, the thing is, there are virtually no words to express what my friends have meant to me over the last few months. on that first night, when i couldn't even drag myself off the couch, i looked up and my home was filled to the brim with hugs and warm cups of tea and i knew that i was loved and supported in a way that took my breath away. then there were the late giggly nights spent solving hot tub problems in sparkel springs, spaghetti dinners that turned into last minute karaoke parties, a sock hop where we danced and twisted and mash potato-ed into the wee hours of the night, and a mailbox full of the sweetest words.<br />
<br />
it seems to me that this love and support should be coming to an end soon. i'm not so sad. i'm okay. i'm doing it. but the support just keeps coming. there are friends who wake up early and run to my house to make me waffles, roommates who dance to taylor swift while we drink cup after cup of coffee, old friends who appear with an email or message of support at just the perfect time, far away friends who send bright pink tulips and gift cards (buying glittery anything solves almost any problem), colleagues who fill my fridge with homemade granola bars and smoothies.<br />
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i truly don't know what i <strike>would have done</strike> would do without all of you and as i type this tears fall. i am totally, completely, utterly, fully overwhelmed by how lucky i am to be surrounded by your love. thank you. thank you. thank you.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-29868415684660583662013-03-18T13:57:00.000-07:002013-03-18T14:08:23.799-07:00GOSSIP GIRL.today a friend of mine said, "<span dir="ltr" id=":1m4">i forget what people talk about when they don't just talk about other people.</span> the weather? clothes? the food they're eating? current events? stuff we bought that we like?" it took me <strike>a minute</strike> a split second to realize she was right. it sure does feel like all any of us talk about anymore is each other. what if instead of talking about each other we all just assume that everyone is doing their best possible job at living their best possible lives by making the best possible choices they can? i, for one, am taking a serious gossip break. interested in joining me for a talk about the beautiful spring weather or the the vintage glitter i bought over the weekend?<br />
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you know what's cuter than gossip? this piece of art titled <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/53651670/gossip?ref=sr_gallery_31&ga_search_query=gossip&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_page=2&ga_search_type=handmade" target="_blank">gossip</a>.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-84247432640604972192013-03-13T15:52:00.002-07:002013-03-13T16:03:40.972-07:00WORKING IT OUT.when people ask me if i work out, i always, always, always reply with the same answer, "oh no, definitely not. i try to avoid all types of exercise whenever possible."<br />
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you see, i just don't understand why i would <i>choose</i> to partake in something that causes me to angrily yell profanities in my head or wake up with muscles so achy that i can't snuggle a pup or two without grimacing. instead, i prefer to sip coffee and eat breakfast appetizers (do you order breakfast appetizers? if not, you should give it a try... a little sweet treat before real breakfast!) or curl up on the couch with a copy of <a href="http://www.kinfolkmag.com/" target="_blank">kinfolk</a> or take a group bath (hot tub) with the beloved board members of sparkel springs and talk late into the night.<br />
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however, drastic times call for drastic measures or whatever and i find myself on a serious and vital mission to do anything and everything that has been recommended to make me feel better. so, against my better judgement, i found myself exercising <i>three times</i> in the last week. friday i was a chaperone on the middle school ski bus and spent the evening snowboarding as the sun set and streetlights flickered to life illuminating the snowy slopes. then, as if that wasn't enough, i walked the grueling .8 miles to work twice this week... both ways, folks, both ways.<br />
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as suspected, i cannot report total success. i did, indeed, wake up so sore after snowboarding that it seriously interfered with my pup snuggling and i was forced to schedule a massage (massages are another important part of my "just get through this" plan). but surprisingly, i cannot report total failure either. i never found myself yelling angrily in my head. instead, i was encouraged by a bright pink camellia bush already in full bloom, admired how the clouds moved through the light, and happily skipped along to the crystals "then he kissed me" for at least a block or two.<br />
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certainly no promises, but soon when people ask me if i work out maybe i'll have a new answer that sounds something like this, "oh, exercise? yeah, i generally try to avoid it... but sometimes it's necessary. oh, and i always, always, always schedule a massage for afterwards."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6yGMKcJnc2H_MiR51JGpUS_FG4RRjMgoT9TT5Xpq-Wr1pSsqSdVQTogG186lziKXk-XlwkpnfVS0kJ8iFm2wfg7hIZHaWAxV1zb1Wp4aOg5oKHmzMncv1nbthuJ-A5efcWr1nQXIsIhB/s1600/mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf6yGMKcJnc2H_MiR51JGpUS_FG4RRjMgoT9TT5Xpq-Wr1pSsqSdVQTogG186lziKXk-XlwkpnfVS0kJ8iFm2wfg7hIZHaWAxV1zb1Wp4aOg5oKHmzMncv1nbthuJ-A5efcWr1nQXIsIhB/s400/mountain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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oh man, the sky was so beautiful right before sunset. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVcnDBRjYOIOrzaswSJGLNl6rhz5fcNkINeDiD-TIlryVXQ5-euQlB6VqzoiKHtwT_Ig7pSOdPftVVqvW8_PZpfUTxf1sUKZS7g7RRaWs9MV1pDOKz_DzWBUth6N9aJYSFx8FWfZ4mG9S/s1600/snowboarding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVcnDBRjYOIOrzaswSJGLNl6rhz5fcNkINeDiD-TIlryVXQ5-euQlB6VqzoiKHtwT_Ig7pSOdPftVVqvW8_PZpfUTxf1sUKZS7g7RRaWs9MV1pDOKz_DzWBUth6N9aJYSFx8FWfZ4mG9S/s400/snowboarding.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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i was scared i wouldn't remember how to snowboard, but it turns out it's a little like riding a bike. with the exception of one <strike>major</strike> graceful fall, i was pretty proud of myself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCUKg8bVp4juEyaJiOOC3gQG0RYk_94sZh3XgD9wFX7wVDT8-PkrX1jckd4MkRr-ub7-RWTfV-I4xFSBD1LQ9VYDfegoyE1XV8skAAQ_K3heQ-PsTM8lVMW1kE2uu4I9cVt9v2q07IkPF/s1600/bootsandflowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCUKg8bVp4juEyaJiOOC3gQG0RYk_94sZh3XgD9wFX7wVDT8-PkrX1jckd4MkRr-ub7-RWTfV-I4xFSBD1LQ9VYDfegoyE1XV8skAAQ_K3heQ-PsTM8lVMW1kE2uu4I9cVt9v2q07IkPF/s400/bootsandflowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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my view.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOTibYOiKNXXr0L8d8Z0Ke1SBrUrunZU7szGiid6iNmV5wOD4POZ8hd_XGYBChQZyT77ZA352YBfaVNcBdChowN53qaz4YzqgODT_CoE3C5Y7UQk9EgMsNoYzBhUeFtYrD1kwIyDdRShY9/s1600/camilliatree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOTibYOiKNXXr0L8d8Z0Ke1SBrUrunZU7szGiid6iNmV5wOD4POZ8hd_XGYBChQZyT77ZA352YBfaVNcBdChowN53qaz4YzqgODT_CoE3C5Y7UQk9EgMsNoYzBhUeFtYrD1kwIyDdRShY9/s400/camilliatree.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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this picture is a little blurry, but this tree was so beautiful. it's always crazy to me how quickly things change from winter to spring. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemr2cwzazEEeauJuEHTLkl9JGVyY9hzFZji_oSmZdJgwP40FizbMgNd7SoM6uRlfDJQStCS1xSZIvi-PqLcEoWL6Gypah-J4sxirFW2LZsS7ztvBwaDnCyAQkPUV55DpYp87K_IB7FifC/s1600/littlelibrary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemr2cwzazEEeauJuEHTLkl9JGVyY9hzFZji_oSmZdJgwP40FizbMgNd7SoM6uRlfDJQStCS1xSZIvi-PqLcEoWL6Gypah-J4sxirFW2LZsS7ztvBwaDnCyAQkPUV55DpYp87K_IB7FifC/s400/littlelibrary.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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a house on my way to work set up this "<a href="http://www.littlefreelibrary.org/" target="_blank">little free library</a>." i would love to put one of these in front my house. what a great way to build community.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUf2osNc0sjVGXfN1jqF4RobnpgrzdwJQxYSoazNItNkTa2u346mCzRqHLEnF3yQsAE442MB1fIVCA04NtLwfkIBy1-QgyaxikM1sNnFLYYg3848G5PmB7GHc7HaODN0Cxhudiq4ivEwX/s1600/Soppingwet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuUf2osNc0sjVGXfN1jqF4RobnpgrzdwJQxYSoazNItNkTa2u346mCzRqHLEnF3yQsAE442MB1fIVCA04NtLwfkIBy1-QgyaxikM1sNnFLYYg3848G5PmB7GHc7HaODN0Cxhudiq4ivEwX/s400/Soppingwet.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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when you live in seattle, walking home from work might mean you arrive home a sopping mess. so very wet. </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-40517364243201145142013-03-07T17:03:00.002-08:002013-03-08T08:33:52.021-08:00STILL.<div style="text-align: left;">
still there are times when i can hardly breathe. still i am figuring out who i am now and where i go from here. still i cry big heavy sobs or small tears almost everyday. still i am just trying to do what is best for me everyday even when it gets messy or seems hard. still i am learning to put myself first.</div>
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but, still there are moments when i look at my life and my heart feels like it might burst from so much gratitude and love.</div>
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today was a sad day, so i decided i wanted to share some of both the big and small things that still make my heart a little happier...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaV0H_Z9n3Gn8nIR3gggZep4fqTg0gIVkRd2zVCd9YxQ67VlL3eLjIxoPg4r6mGY6WHsFPfXtBZQgA-gMzfza3TEDKR6t7s5PC54PQiZSwWT45vHyQg_zc_4WalAgqtq-oRm74StQseEY/s1600/IMG_6184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHaV0H_Z9n3Gn8nIR3gggZep4fqTg0gIVkRd2zVCd9YxQ67VlL3eLjIxoPg4r6mGY6WHsFPfXtBZQgA-gMzfza3TEDKR6t7s5PC54PQiZSwWT45vHyQg_zc_4WalAgqtq-oRm74StQseEY/s400/IMG_6184.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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taylor swift seems to have written every song just for me. she really gets it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF65CBBDFdP-DLpvto0rzDd1xnL9a7vXN4BW69WFMeYgcSfy8-H7h8EuGivkUZNxLSllap96smmx0Sk7T7bukPiM-sVw4dvohJ53C1cxesOIttV6K7MQEblr1vjs8szifF_0CkUs4I_0xH/s1600/IMG_6102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF65CBBDFdP-DLpvto0rzDd1xnL9a7vXN4BW69WFMeYgcSfy8-H7h8EuGivkUZNxLSllap96smmx0Sk7T7bukPiM-sVw4dvohJ53C1cxesOIttV6K7MQEblr1vjs8szifF_0CkUs4I_0xH/s400/IMG_6102.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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these pups like to lounge on the porch in the sun. they get it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33SR2Ngxf490MuK676jdGnFsUMqN4ay-grfnua07kYzOwswfZL8hRtqtTiIOLoSpXVHr1EvRPRM5skbKsumpm8NhAvG6x_9pFFO9uwGZpUQH-VQX9398HCIzGpidEF4Jhn3mUNKrxVCVd/s1600/IMG_6457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33SR2Ngxf490MuK676jdGnFsUMqN4ay-grfnua07kYzOwswfZL8hRtqtTiIOLoSpXVHr1EvRPRM5skbKsumpm8NhAvG6x_9pFFO9uwGZpUQH-VQX9398HCIzGpidEF4Jhn3mUNKrxVCVd/s400/IMG_6457.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>
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i recently discovered the game scruples at a beach cabin and it turns
out it's the best game best game ever. i feel like my life is a scruples
card right now. scruples really gets it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe0wGmO5DvSLFgTBYPef6azzVqLIkKVRq2M3MLs-xeSujghsPF2F2JogciBWXlOnTBQy_rHQ9yTxbPZB5psCFnIiICLaf43fSnnXRUrw3_Tm6KloJHLvgQBF447_5eX1hXOraumI3uAjh3/s1600/bathgang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe0wGmO5DvSLFgTBYPef6azzVqLIkKVRq2M3MLs-xeSujghsPF2F2JogciBWXlOnTBQy_rHQ9yTxbPZB5psCFnIiICLaf43fSnnXRUrw3_Tm6KloJHLvgQBF447_5eX1hXOraumI3uAjh3/s400/bathgang.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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sometimes when everything else is going wrong you need to watch new girl in the bath. jess just gets it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBDVYHP6VbV2W7om5Xwi6v_gF8T4kd4P4BQ2FGNx8wkFYHnHkJ6CSf1B2A_8sae1B4ZBJCfF5wA-eGFG-QdoUMHhpuRV4zJYNygpXY5Tqc5ZJO1CaHw7hiSHpm0aNbP7Wb2QfBQon8IV6/s1600/hichews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBDVYHP6VbV2W7om5Xwi6v_gF8T4kd4P4BQ2FGNx8wkFYHnHkJ6CSf1B2A_8sae1B4ZBJCfF5wA-eGFG-QdoUMHhpuRV4zJYNygpXY5Tqc5ZJO1CaHw7hiSHpm0aNbP7Wb2QfBQon8IV6/s400/hichews.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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leather bows and hichews are the perfect combination. now there is a relationship that is perfectly sweet. they really get each other. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_qSi4K6ULGd6DvDdzG453_PMKC94kf_nGt1iVxs9jijp6QWbPrAnBj5UfbkWb4HvOpCpyK1YzKEiUIHqeDTL0LzACS6GEItPl9gQNUeTSeQUdOvWzSPke1NjLNOGFrrv5B_z1RS73meY/s1600/nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_qSi4K6ULGd6DvDdzG453_PMKC94kf_nGt1iVxs9jijp6QWbPrAnBj5UfbkWb4HvOpCpyK1YzKEiUIHqeDTL0LzACS6GEItPl9gQNUeTSeQUdOvWzSPke1NjLNOGFrrv5B_z1RS73meY/s640/nails.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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nail art is pretty and fun and sometimes glittery. it makes everyone who gets it say, "i love your nails."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjsHJEC7LUpgrUPYiKFNz8WpYvkVPxzIEmZ7cV0RCH2rGmy1x3LWPApwsREdcOr0RVNL4Kly6p2kS1xT6p00p0lIEZwE6f_9OsyNcbiKGUj6G4e-9CyJFflFZhoMMKC8E9CZn0giQ-sHHJ/s1600/beyonce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjsHJEC7LUpgrUPYiKFNz8WpYvkVPxzIEmZ7cV0RCH2rGmy1x3LWPApwsREdcOr0RVNL4Kly6p2kS1xT6p00p0lIEZwE6f_9OsyNcbiKGUj6G4e-9CyJFflFZhoMMKC8E9CZn0giQ-sHHJ/s400/beyonce.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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one day we watched beyonce in our hot tub. no one gets it more than beyonce. no one.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbbNXkIHaMgjGY6WVQQb9Tv99MjzZtvLzfBP_h_uqLM-8WNrN2_0lx7RHyl0VNs_OPrxNCi2IRgOFAoDY_WNNhSLv1D9hQbVS967KyAmQztyf1AGQ0o4mx9PLFpeIRrZ4gUCfdl71CGid/s1600/IMG_5683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbbNXkIHaMgjGY6WVQQb9Tv99MjzZtvLzfBP_h_uqLM-8WNrN2_0lx7RHyl0VNs_OPrxNCi2IRgOFAoDY_WNNhSLv1D9hQbVS967KyAmQztyf1AGQ0o4mx9PLFpeIRrZ4gUCfdl71CGid/s400/IMG_5683.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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these girls come over almost every saturday at 2:00 in the afternoon to drink bellinis and talk and talk and talk. all week i look forward to seeing them because they really get it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrioEJvUjlx9gZuy9VRY-rJ9Ca-o9GOo44HTBl7gUrlFNoZYpx0OXsYh73CXnE6gLY209PKygce1NcmvlH4capxvIoablg71w_yHe23to0vzXT7HPfbVnY8e7e1GlrxPssL0LYfMGWqzn/s1600/IMG_6013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrioEJvUjlx9gZuy9VRY-rJ9Ca-o9GOo44HTBl7gUrlFNoZYpx0OXsYh73CXnE6gLY209PKygce1NcmvlH4capxvIoablg71w_yHe23to0vzXT7HPfbVnY8e7e1GlrxPssL0LYfMGWqzn/s400/IMG_6013.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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sometimes on a really bad day all you want is a cute boy to bring you some flowers. he gets it.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-73350020240368351452013-01-01T17:51:00.000-08:002013-01-01T17:57:28.199-08:00IT STARTS NOW.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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it's going to be a good one, folks. i can feel it. after a both brutally sad and surprisingly joyful end to 2012, i am looking forward to a new year. a new start. a new life. </div>
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i plan to backtrack and write more about the end of 2012, but for now i'll just share this little secret...</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-88556056479154135882012-09-30T19:41:00.003-07:002014-03-13T12:14:28.088-07:00CELEBRATING.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
about a year ago, the kim family moved to seattle with nothing but a few suitcases and a very new baby. since then i have not only fallen in love with the thoughtful and determined desmond wolfie, but also with his beautiful parents. in august, we were lucky enough to gather in a park to celebrate desmond's first year of life. secretly, i was not only celebrating him, but my new friendship with his parents and the future adventures we will share. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO6y5dXG1tV-bzB8Iao93CmsS1M5eDXQAfoSkDID-43LIWts5aQNL9wNwhKNSHFTO0b4C8ETVEnxYAUiB65OWcIvC4iI8NPgp51b2h6wMgLC8PEtf92K3meDV0lPpu5IWpIbtKCmq9gkHo/s1600/Desmond+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO6y5dXG1tV-bzB8Iao93CmsS1M5eDXQAfoSkDID-43LIWts5aQNL9wNwhKNSHFTO0b4C8ETVEnxYAUiB65OWcIvC4iI8NPgp51b2h6wMgLC8PEtf92K3meDV0lPpu5IWpIbtKCmq9gkHo/s640/Desmond+12.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></div>
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p.s. julie has a great <a href="http://shotgunkorea.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">blog</a> that is pretty much always adorable.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-13510964036194604682012-09-25T21:34:00.003-07:002014-03-13T12:12:12.760-07:00DREAM WORLD.if you ever hear me say, "next year i want to..." or "last year i learned a lot about..." you can pretty much guarantee that the year i am referring to is the one that starts in september and ends in june. for me the year is exactly nine months long. this, of course, creates three months that are not technically in any year at all. (they couldn't be because they are better than all the other months and they would make all the other months too jealous.) ninety magical, non-working days. days where i wake up to the sun shining through my french doors, slowly sip coffee, and then do exactly what i want all day long. some days that means i ride in a hot tub boat (the best day!), some days i organize my shoes, and some days i hop in the car with my bestest for an impromptu road trip. this year i am having a particularly difficult time transitioning from this sunny, dream world to my new year. i want to spend a few more days lying in the grass at the park, eating summer salads from to-go containers and drinking soda water. i want to spend a a couple more mornings listening to records with my sweetie while we make breakfast so late it's <strike>almost</strike> lunch. i'm not quite ready for it all to be over, not ready for the new year to start and the sun to slip away. so, tonight i'm sorting through pictures from this summer and trying to hold on to the magic just a little bit longer.<br />
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yep, it was a good one.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-81840634122397095762012-05-12T19:45:00.000-07:002012-09-22T17:39:27.682-07:00SAYULITA PART ONE.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
i plan to write lots and lots about how amazing this trip was and how much i adore these girls, but right now i only have time to share the pictures. best. trip. ever.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-29410896277588422082012-04-14T15:40:00.002-07:002012-04-14T15:42:58.261-07:00SAYULITA SNEAK PEEK.i just started editing the pictures from last week's trip to mexico with the girls. i have many hours of editing ahead of me, but i love looking at the faces of these lovely ladies and remembering our amazing week together. i have a hunch that editing these photos won't feel like much of a chore.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcZT1q9BjXxj7-U8M8drdVvVwt7GBtvb6lrQgtamT2tYXcdCB9EdsaXGUsT0ZfaQ67iWptEpKxtZbMihSX9FoBY9Xg1KZWBK66mPwerlUto2gH88vtKfwkkstaAkjubXhZyJJJRVuG_Ff/s1600/Sayulita+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcZT1q9BjXxj7-U8M8drdVvVwt7GBtvb6lrQgtamT2tYXcdCB9EdsaXGUsT0ZfaQ67iWptEpKxtZbMihSX9FoBY9Xg1KZWBK66mPwerlUto2gH88vtKfwkkstaAkjubXhZyJJJRVuG_Ff/s640/Sayulita+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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cool times.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-3174205275297150772012-04-11T14:48:00.001-07:002014-03-13T12:12:24.290-07:00THIS IS HOW I GET DOWN.i love to dance. i always hum and ha about it at first, but once i start i can't stop. i love, love, love it. our dear friends rob and erica just posted <a href="http://stephaniehaller.com/weddings/2012/04/erica-robby-robinswood-house-bellevue/">pictures</a> from their wedding last summer and i stumbled upon this little shot of me dancing my heart out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3614eivRS6Ry0xb0epzCD6i8IC16XToQRTvtIwU8pRZAvSnSc55qh7RDKnLBemc_6sCWDCgplv0dzBmuFzzLEj22GvjlMzIK8L26_9Yr1SVCHA8rv2EyQD3hXmNaMxkPNjNhd45D6RzqU/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3614eivRS6Ry0xb0epzCD6i8IC16XToQRTvtIwU8pRZAvSnSc55qh7RDKnLBemc_6sCWDCgplv0dzBmuFzzLEj22GvjlMzIK8L26_9Yr1SVCHA8rv2EyQD3hXmNaMxkPNjNhd45D6RzqU/s400/photo-1.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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see? doesn't that look fun? </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-68902241621447623352012-01-14T16:09:00.000-08:002012-01-14T16:09:20.283-08:00LAZY SATURDAY.<div style="text-align: center;">
found this delightful video while i was waiting for snow.
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SKVcQnyEIT8?rel=0" width="560"></iframe></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-10354711147673078142012-01-13T19:23:00.000-08:002012-01-13T19:33:38.460-08:00DREAM MAKER.on the eleventh day of the instagram challenge, i was suppose to take a picture of where i dream at night. i was oh so excited about this one because i love our bedroom. as you may know, my sweetie and i just bought our very first house. jordan grew up doing drywall and so on the first tour of our new home he said that all the walls would have to be skim coated when we moved in. i was busy falling deeply in love with a window seat and planning s'more making parties for a fireplace and covertly testing out the hardwood floors for dancing, so at the time i just nodded and said, "yes, definitely skim coating, uh huh."<br />
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well, it turns out that skim coating makes a mess and i don't mean a manageable mess. i mean dust that is somehow unable to be vacuumed or swept up in every crevice of your house. dust that follows you to work on your favorite frye boots and sneaks into the lid of your coffee cup and makes a home on the nose of your black pup. about a week after we moved in jordan started skim coating the bedroom and i immediately turned into the worst version of myself. i said things like, "why can't we just paint... i hate skim coating... when will this be done?" i know, i know, terrible wife behavior. in the middle of this project i had to leave town for a work conference. usually when i leave i choose to imagine jordan sitting on the couch surrounded by ice cream containers and frozen pizzas, a pup under each arm, weeping because he misses me so much. however, on this particular occasion i was unable to conjure up that image. instead i envisioned him dancing around in his underpants like tom cruise in risky business, glad to get me out of his hair because i was being oh so delightful about the skim-coating.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQKrHp0gtr0BojekisqayZpBz7Yijz_4HGn14tvlK3GqiOsVSPfIxrTcRRgvqO5bnxB9hR_txu9qp2sPCZd0otZCDRxMfbjylxTIt7SJsOAVKn6sUcUsy7Z_MXkPaxUustBY7nIHis5XXz/s1600/bedroom+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQKrHp0gtr0BojekisqayZpBz7Yijz_4HGn14tvlK3GqiOsVSPfIxrTcRRgvqO5bnxB9hR_txu9qp2sPCZd0otZCDRxMfbjylxTIt7SJsOAVKn6sUcUsy7Z_MXkPaxUustBY7nIHis5XXz/s400/bedroom+blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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five days later i returned. i had <strike>forgotten</strike> almost forgotten about the skim coating and was just glad to be home. after five nights in a hotel, sleeping in a city a time-zone away, i didn't care about returning to the mess. i was just excited to hug my sweetie and pet my pups and look at my house and think, "i bought that. i'm a grown-up." in the back of my mind i knew that the house would probably still be filled with white dust, but i didn't care anymore. i was just glad to be home.<br />
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but when i walked in the front door i was greeted by two jumping pups and no dust. jordan walked me back to our bedroom and in an instant i knew why he had insisted on doing all that stupid skim coating. our walls looked like white porcelain, like fondant from a wedding cake, like snow. a room that had looked a little more tired than vintage had come to life.<br />
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now our bedroom is my favorite room in our house. i'm so lucky that i have my sweet husband to teach me that its okay for life to be a little messy sometimes.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-7312589042148956442012-01-12T12:30:00.000-08:002014-03-13T12:13:16.775-07:00RAISED BY HIPPIES.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1SI2hZChOmiwmN9bM8avRZQ5ryFw0GsJMr9OmT6LgnR55VQrdUq6AqgZHfP6AeCRyF4Hg24UdFLhDa0z-Nur35wWvGfeTI_7nfrHDTYmF9fS4MNEYZB7b7Vesbo5Ip8JQOS3Zs6sbWMq/s1600/blogula.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1SI2hZChOmiwmN9bM8avRZQ5ryFw0GsJMr9OmT6LgnR55VQrdUq6AqgZHfP6AeCRyF4Hg24UdFLhDa0z-Nur35wWvGfeTI_7nfrHDTYmF9fS4MNEYZB7b7Vesbo5Ip8JQOS3Zs6sbWMq/s400/blogula.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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when i was born my parents lived in a log cabin on acres and acres of land. in the winter they strapped me into the backpack and cross-country skied to their friends' houses or into town. in the summer i went back into the pack as they traveled to tropical locations or went on hikes or played horseshoes in their backyard. i like to think that someday when i have kids i'll discover that our family has inherited that same adventurous spirt.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-15830761789933949912012-01-11T21:19:00.001-08:002012-01-12T12:09:09.846-08:00BITS + PIECES.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU3q3judEtoOg9Gy2uQMSdVoJsErY9UxnG4zuGXEdfFmhgUcz1aRJObMxrUmno51jR82qoLP0LwsDPupHvTk89OGBLBQVXDXxPXA-CbX1wvQST0QGM-knM2dbuKCtCg7jP1y6eQRfGzOJ/s1600/bloggedy+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU3q3judEtoOg9Gy2uQMSdVoJsErY9UxnG4zuGXEdfFmhgUcz1aRJObMxrUmno51jR82qoLP0LwsDPupHvTk89OGBLBQVXDXxPXA-CbX1wvQST0QGM-knM2dbuKCtCg7jP1y6eQRfGzOJ/s640/bloggedy+blog.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjknOfaCs3kf5dkfBh3m9ekDvoAslndMBqnMz5V1iV0r0r7g9Cnt-DJrJb5exdeClnwgEZZi2pmiIUGIkZIcP5YiClRy25Sl03HIaAnFVzLMiFdDqwj539c18PyAfWE0PRc8-pTVGKIa4oX/s1600/bloggedyblogblogblog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjknOfaCs3kf5dkfBh3m9ekDvoAslndMBqnMz5V1iV0r0r7g9Cnt-DJrJb5exdeClnwgEZZi2pmiIUGIkZIcP5YiClRy25Sl03HIaAnFVzLMiFdDqwj539c18PyAfWE0PRc8-pTVGKIa4oX/s640/bloggedyblogblogblog.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-74608296347867542182012-01-11T20:52:00.000-08:002012-01-11T22:31:54.473-08:00BOY CRAZY STACYthese books are on shelf in my classroom and no one ever reads them. i have been teaching for eight years and not one student has ever picked up a babysitters club book, much less devoured the entire series like i did when i was nine. i wanted to be stacy. she was oh so brave and knew so much about boys and music. i decided to bring home <i>boy crazy stacy </i>and now, as i read it, instead of thinking stacy should go for it with the older boy, i find myself worried that she is going to get herself into trouble. i want to yell, "stacy! that stupid scott is going to break your little heart. he's such a douche bag. sure, he's a lifeguard and that seems really rad, but i promise he'll still be managing an applebees in ten years and that is not something you want to get all tangled up in. don't waste your time." i think she should go learn to paint or start playing the oboe or learn mandarin. i guess that's why i'll never be stacy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVNvPTxbox_MTQf6l_C-NCRI1giuFjCMThmIOgNvNchlqDiKOBKBNqpU2wvsAQM-bLnVYMMSVQOtHAfDKrc5o5BZOW-Srwjr8HyVEpUE5yT5CqTA1aHmkORXnYbC4T0IBS1DorMWa8Xdw/s1600/photo-6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVNvPTxbox_MTQf6l_C-NCRI1giuFjCMThmIOgNvNchlqDiKOBKBNqpU2wvsAQM-bLnVYMMSVQOtHAfDKrc5o5BZOW-Srwjr8HyVEpUE5yT5CqTA1aHmkORXnYbC4T0IBS1DorMWa8Xdw/s320/photo-6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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which babysitter did you want to be?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-18402028135858867592012-01-03T19:33:00.000-08:002012-01-11T20:53:57.497-08:00PUPS.there is nothing i adore more than my little one eyed wonder. sure he may have itchy skin and he may only have one eye, but he loves being the little spoon and he sings happy birthday. the perfect pup, i'd say.<br />
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sigh. look at that face.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4423383385581578089.post-46578187999425816332012-01-02T12:51:00.000-08:002012-01-11T20:54:37.058-08:00I'LL TAKE THAT CHALLENGE<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">there is a photo-a-day challenge circulating instagram right now. it's fun to slow down and capture bits and pieces of my life in pictures. oh, and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><strike>snooping</strike></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> peeking into the lives of my friends isn't too bad either</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</span><br />
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