tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36065852049626898452024-02-19T06:46:39.301-08:00Life as I know it...Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-40832064095378666482010-12-05T22:13:00.001-08:002010-12-05T22:13:28.667-08:00Scratch That.Yeah...about that blogging everyday thing. Didn't happen. Not going to happen in December. Might happen in January. Stay tuned...Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-73381617524467185492010-12-02T22:42:00.000-08:002010-12-02T22:42:31.674-08:00Back in Action...So it's been like five months. Five months since I've even thought about writing something. At least, since I thought about writing something on here for all to see. But that's one of the great things about the internet and about blogging. They never go away.<br />
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A lot of people did this last year. It was called #best09. This year, it's called <a href="http://reverb10.com/">#reverb10</a>. In yet another honest attempt to figure out if writing is something I really, truly love and something I would want to do everyday for the rest of my life, you're going to get a blog post every day for the month of December. EVERY DAY. Good thing these #reverb10 people are sending me prompts. This girl needs some structure.<br />
<br />
Obviously, it's December 3rd now. Or it will be in 44 minutes. And so I present for your viewing pleasure the prompts from yesterday and today all rolled into one post.<br />
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<b>Prompt #1: One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?</b><br />
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2010: Complacency<br />
According to the dictionary (yes, I used a dictionary. An actual one. On paper. ), complacency means being content with one's life. I disagree. I define complacency as being just happy enough most of the time that there is no need to introduce challenge into one's life. And I think that's kind of a bad thing.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to...<br />
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2011: Aspire<br />
There are a lot of things I aspire to. My goals change daily. Unfortunately, I don't think I have actually accomplished any goal since graduating from college in 2006. And so, 2011 is the year that changes.<br />
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<b>Prompt #2: Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? </b><br />
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Where should I start? Like I said, it's been five months since I've really written anything. And a whole lot of that time has been spent on entertainment. I'm a big fan of entertainment; I think I get it from my grandparents. They cannot spend more that one day sitting at home, doing nothing. If they're not at work, they're in Island Park. Or Jackpot. Or on a cruise (without me, which is very rude). Or playing bingo. Or snowmobiling. They just always like to be entertained. Which is my point.<br />
<br />
For me, Monday's mean bowling. Tuesday's mean trivia. And drinking. Sometimes a lot of drinking. Which leads to lazy Wednesdays, sometimes with some mentoring thrown in, and always ending in family dinner. Thursday's mean closing at work, as do some Fridays. Saturday's mean anything from birthday parties to crying at a bar to reading a book at home with my cat. And Sunday's mean resting. Catching up on life so the craziness can start all over again the next day. I know that a lot of people have way more demanding schedules than I do. But like I said in prompt #1, I am usually content with this routine. Routines are good. Until you become complacent, which is my word of the year.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
As for making more time for writing, it's something that can be easily done. A little less sleeping, a little less HIMYM and boom-you'll get a blog post a day for a month. As for switching up the routine, though, I don't really think it's that easy. Like I said, routines are good. They keep life going. And blogging is writing about life. And I'm not quite ready to stop life as I know it. But that's kind of why I decided to do #reverb10. It gives me a chance to look back over the past year, separate what I like and don't like, what's working and what's not, and hopefully head into 2011 ready to start the rest of my life. <br />
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See you tomorrow.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-29883956624805734572010-07-13T20:50:00.000-07:002010-07-13T22:04:21.746-07:00For whom the bell tolls.Since I was two years old, I have lived a block and a half from the bells. And for as long as I can actually remember, the bells have tolled three times a day, 37 chimes each time; once at 8:00 am, once at noon, and once at 6:00 pm.<br /><br />The bells have signified different things through the years. When I was younger, the 8:00 bell meant that I was late for school and had less than five minutes to get my butt out the door. In the summer time, the noon bells meant it was time for tuna fish and potato chip sandwiches. And later, after I discovered the amazingness of Gilmore Girls, the 6:00 bell meant it was time to tune in.<br /><br />Overall, though, the sound of the bells meant I was home. Home from college, the cabin, Paris, or Boston. Just like the smell of my grandma's cinnamon bread or the feel of the wind on my face as I'm flying through the air on the trampoline, those 37 chimes meant instant comfort, instant regression back to my childhood, instant happiness.<br /><br />But this latest trip home? I was not greeted by my favorite, familiar sound. Instead, I was greeted by a weird, annoying tinkle.<br /><br />They changed the bells.<br /><br />And I am not happy about it. And I am sure that Pepper (my cocker spaniel, may he rest in peace) would not be happy about it either, as one of his favorite daily activities was howling along with the bells three times a day (I hope they're chiming for you up in that big backyard in the sky).<br /><br />As far as I'm concerned, the only bells that are supposed to tinkle are those little tiny ones that rich people use to summon their hired help. The stately Catholic church (one of only two in a town dominated by LDS churches on every other corner) with gorgeous stained glass that I've lived around the corner from since I was two deserves a loud, booming bell, one that chimes thirty-seven times, three times a day.<br /><br />And so, for anyone that has watched as much Gilmore Girls as I have, I'm going to have to channel the episode where Luke and Lorelai break the bells. But instead, I will be doing the opposite-restoring my favorite bells to their original glory.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-22262741765279618102010-06-07T22:15:00.000-07:002010-06-07T22:16:16.140-07:00A question...What to do with this here blog of mine?Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-42006456639262494572010-03-24T22:25:00.000-07:002010-03-24T22:30:15.382-07:00One Step Closer...The application process is complete. I have already been accepted to two schools. Still waiting to hear from my number one choice. It will be a while, considering I just mailed the packet today. Now comes the part where I normally freak out, talk myself out of it, wonder how I could ever leave this place, these people, this life?<br /><br />But this time? It's different. I'm ready to leave. I've spent the last four years doing the same things. And while I have too many wonderful memories to count, I'm ready to make new ones, with new people, in a new place. I've finally realized that I need to do this for myself, that I can't worry about anyone else, that I can't worry about missing out on things. Because that? Just leads to me missing out on my own life.<br /><br />So yeah. I'm ready. Ready for something new.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-42700496089337263462010-03-02T19:01:00.000-08:002010-03-07T22:34:53.994-08:00A dose of cuteness.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByPFRtJLMSQA5GSVRWzROhivgdejli9fGiCcL8lzJr58NapDwcASNL4wYtK4XUkoR2J-4je8UGCwD-A0meR9O7h-YjGu-ANjHgpIHuHwZ2qnlVR-TM6m7fZ9ptwH6Y6CytGyNp_3U5O5T/s1600-h/DSCN0358.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByPFRtJLMSQA5GSVRWzROhivgdejli9fGiCcL8lzJr58NapDwcASNL4wYtK4XUkoR2J-4je8UGCwD-A0meR9O7h-YjGu-ANjHgpIHuHwZ2qnlVR-TM6m7fZ9ptwH6Y6CytGyNp_3U5O5T/s200/DSCN0358.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444251068440954530" border="0" /></a><br />We went to the hockey game on Saturday night to celebrate QS's birthday. As we were driving there, we had a little discussion with the Princess about what age she was going to be that night.<br /><br />The Pro: "Now Princess, if anybody asks you how old you are tonight, you're going to say three years old."<br /><br />Princess: "But daddy, I'm four!"<br /><br />The Pro: "Yes, you are, but just for tonight, we're going to pretend that you're three so we don't have to buy you a ticket."<br /><br />After some chiming in from the BFF and myself, I look over and see the Princess' eyes welling up with tears.<br /><br />Princess: "But can I still be four years old?"<br /><br />It just doesn't get cuter than that.<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------<br />On a sadder note, today i ran over a squirrel. And I didn't even know it until the cheer king made me look in the rear view mirror. And then I saw the poor thing twitching. And I just couldn't bring myself to run him back over to put him out of his misery. I am officially going to squirrel hell, where the poor little guy will run me over everyday as my punishment.<br /><br />The cheer king did try to make me feel better by telling me that the squirrels are over-populated in Boise and that I was just doing my job controlling the problem. It didn't really work; I still feel horrible.<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------<br />Stay tuned tomorrow for a story about our epic Monday night karaoke adventure. Two words for you: legend. dary.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-24138351296350481232010-02-25T21:13:00.000-08:002010-02-25T22:16:55.004-08:00An addendum. Or three.As per the usual, I left some of my favorites out yesterday. And that just won't do. Once again, click the pictures and away you'll go!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://brainyjane22.wordpress.com"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 105px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8-fxTpylctssC5fptlviZZzhml3FFGoN-_7RFZGaIjW5065yJotyjZPyFj-LRMuQ03QkPxb5Pg7uXkKWLCz80kU6wAHDw_U0BLmLMzEKLaxYASB1icghcCY4EHmlmUYcqjWjH3LDvw4X/s200/twitterProfilePhoto_bigger.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442427446338983234" border="0" /></a><br />One of Brandy's most coveted items is a diamond-encrusted toothbrush. And something I do believe she put on her Christmas list. Brandy is the queen of lists; add that to her love of Ryan Reynolds and Soul Decision and we're basically best friends. She also does one of the best features in the blogging world-The Secret Project. If you like Post Secret, you'll love this. And it always gives you something to look forward to on Mondays.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ashalah.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7C1teL1TWJ5pIXgj1JENx1MsLOeCuyT1qH1YJX9Rde8dj6tegKp9WEly4qovmAdfJjjDqFcqwB6qG7llSTVJTFzwY3FlCxBzdUPjEhBuWDJwP9QvKnm42rY_NfSdEDjrE0MeYoS84Oz-/s200/ashalah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442417971387102226" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I just very recently discovered her. And big surprise? She took three months off to travel through Europe. Her difference? She did it alone. CRAZY! And? She just recently left home to start a new life in Boulder, Colorado, something I'm considering as well. Plus, she loves Barnes and Noble and likes to have dance parties in her kitchen. We're pretty much the same person.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://challisandjosh.blogspot.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhof5Ozv801TaIiZH2Mir_wlZRFfDKuPrbMDSKy7PFCU5lkfeGgIcHbz-aVq8EIEpVstDY_Yqeh_9Bjn8c4U3eTfyUJrarFUgkUR5dYbhNnXPDxmvekF1HlDZr9SUjG69sNyn0du3NwWiS/s200/Challis+with+Midwest+Cookies.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442417976261432402" border="0" /></a><br />And last, but certainly not least, is Miss Challis. It's funny how you can go to junior high and high school with someone and not really know them at all until like five years later. And while the majority of my classmates blog about their adorable children (which is cute, but just another reminder of the weirdness of my hometown), Challis writes amazingly hilarious posts about her domestic abilities (or lack thereof) and airline adventures. And I'm sure we can all relate to anyone who loves cookies as much as this girl.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And that wraps it up. I even double-checked this time. I'm currently watching the Olympics and having mini panic attacks as the lady figure skaters take to the ice. I seriously can't watch when they do their jumps. If they fall, it feels like I fell. And then my knees hurt. I'm sure it's all their fault (my knees, not the figure skaters) that I'm not a professional athlete; after all, I totally could race down a giant, icy ski hill and kick ass while doing it. Maybe in another life. Only two more days left in Idaho Falls. And six more days until I go back to work. Not sure how that's going to go. I'm going to have to brush up on my cat-sweater-selling skills.<br /></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-6350090325211692852010-02-24T20:54:00.000-08:002010-02-24T21:58:27.813-08:00Back again...What up everybody? So glad ya here*. Once again, it's been a while. Probably far too long. But that's what happens when you're living life. Or so people tell me.<br /><br />At the moment, I am home in Idaho Falls, recovering from a tonsillectomy and septoplasty. Basically, I had my tonsils taken out, my turbinates reduced, and my septum straightened. All because of a little thing called sleep apnea. I know you might be asking "isn't that all a little extreme?" And to that I say, it's better than my other option, which was this:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydXndRLMsF0dS4Foa708vkMFQ8uuaKshvYVqLSaPQ3ZqXjFON0vXCU_3G_NBg7cJPaAdedM5cgnpbzttJzXFBmoeXJ1F0WQsCaqyU1Jn7iU35N5or7ygU5PAPHUUfbjUxozmxn9L99XAq/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 111px; height: 111px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydXndRLMsF0dS4Foa708vkMFQ8uuaKshvYVqLSaPQ3ZqXjFON0vXCU_3G_NBg7cJPaAdedM5cgnpbzttJzXFBmoeXJ1F0WQsCaqyU1Jn7iU35N5or7ygU5PAPHUUfbjUxozmxn9L99XAq/s200/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442042608341546786" border="0" /></a><br />That is a CPAP Machine. Being the single girl that I am, my doctor and I agreed that this wasn't something I wanted to deal with for the rest of my life. It's hard enough finding someone in this big, crazy world; now just imagine having to explain that giant contraption to anyone I chose to invite into my bed. That's hot, right? Except not so much.<br /><br />And so surgery was underwent. I was actually really nervous about my recovery; the postings on the message boards I found online weren't the most comforting ('worse than childbirth,' 'burning pain of the hell-like variety,' 'someone kill me now.' Not really what you want to hear the night before surgery). Thankfully, I recovered much better than normal and I already notice the difference in my breathing. Not sure about the snoring, as that is hard to monitor when I'm asleep.<br /><br />Anyways, recovery has been good. Very lazy. Blogging is definitely helping me pass the time. As in, reading other people's blogs, not writing them. Obviously. And so, I thought I would give a shout-out to some of my favorites. Because if I like them, everybody should like them. Click on the picture and away you'll go!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://yesandyes.org/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 65px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR49csgzE9BY9fuSDg4w-00OuXWXL2zp4syywTYLcme8T2P-CDyahdxVHoc9Vun2WXLCDgMn05JwpKygJaMAXW3vA4EkpSGX3uRKANM4aTLsr-C_r9EvhdhlqMnryf5EoILsOq8weeItu8/s200/yesandyes2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442048714344063314" border="0" /></a>Yes and Yes is a great one, especially because she actually gave up her job, her home, her life-as-she-knew-it to travel the world, explore new cultures, and expand her horizons. Hello? That is my dream. So not only does she have great advice and great stories, but she also interviews really interesting people. The latest? A transvestite.<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://steammeupkid.blogspot.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFctVaU6pwOM4KXCraNPBZil9HXvbLm_WVUwvUWbp9h0_NpzhVZkFsY2A8Ukhkr-LxLKqH7-lOcu8cC71XbnwafgrRyqTL9QOof9dms0mFH2P7L0091sXYyOvtWULEnjqH9IPrRaG7hnX9/s200/sendtobecky.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442048709714870610" border="0" /></a>This is honestly one of the most random blogs I have ever read. You never know what you're going to get, but you can always count on it as being hilarious and well-written.<br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kathleenparkerb.blogspot.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh196ICoW8KZv-bLM1M9lmcZhLLawvn79pPDZqPnAwQdjZCe81lPgJE3WXqOptUulRfrsmjZszmKxNWQJXy9JONK181ilq__pfmoMcOG2_NDqhdTPhaAfoTZI5NaXVZucvKKDOaj0Tmn-aR/s200/jastg_blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442048699985016386" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Kathleen is just a very relatable** person. She left her hometown and moved to Vegas to be with her boyfriend, she's homesick, she has great fashion-sense and she tells great stories.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://alifeintranslation.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC7Wsc4PWUCSAojM7OD2435WQQgKpYGYOuBaCD9tT3DRKvc7Xk7JvNvAeUQWEVFhypwhSTFNu_l7H-F3lxB-GYh8sA28eg-9r2YPwRxx9pEEucZuGKRpMx3fBFHQV6DqfRU_xWwdXyrgMr/s200/IMG_4446.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442052285111195746" border="0" /></a>Miss Jamie Varon is another one of those dare-to-live people. I discovered her right after she moved to Italy. Just because. She also appeals to my entrepreneurial side; she started Shatterbox Media and also made national news when she used Twitter to help her get a job. She is also the new roommate of this girl down below...<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://nicoleisbetter.com/"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTW1BqStsMt-FY1t_EmfTSWB-mYe6261iRqVnpoVtsAFvL9Z3KABlUtpGC1PXPpekDWpfOub6L7aJTvVWhR9Xtb0arx76PXrpgufJPIqGDCeirpKrzmgvwoeY0TW-lmjsAS1LW2s1iQocS/s200/nicole1-300x225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442052280076163762" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">...and together, they provide some very entertaining writing. Nicole is basically what I aspire to be, although with not so much of a focus on sex, seeing as how I don't have all the experience. She talks like she writes, which has always been one of my favorite styles. Basically, she's crazy and don't we all need a little more crazy in our lives (of the good variety, of course)?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Basically, my day is made anytime any of these ladies post. And with them in mind, I am going to try and be a little more consistent with my blogging. We'll see how it goes.<br /><br />But now, I need to see to my nasal rinse. Such an exciting life I lead. Who wouldn't want to read about it?<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------<br />*That's right. I busted out some Coolio.<br /><br />**Apparently, relatable is not a word. Which is ridiculous. How else can you describe someone who people can relate to? I think it's time I start my own dictionary. I'm sure it would be helpful to all.<br /></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-76450715486527415392009-12-22T23:26:00.000-08:002009-12-22T23:28:03.444-08:00Christmas Time<p>Everyone has heard that song "My Favorite Things.' Especially at Christmas time. A few of my favorite things are potatoes, glitter, and lists. Thanks to an extremely boring night at work, I present to you some top 10 lists all about Christmas time. </p><p><b>Top 10 Christmas Songs:</b></p><p>10. 'Last Christmas'- Pretty much anyone can sing this, but my favorite versions are by Jimmy Eat World and miss TSwift. </p><p>9. 'Alone This Holiday'-The Used (For when you're in a not-so-cheery mood.)</p><p>8. 'Good King Wenceslas' (An underrated classic.)</p><p>7. 'Christmas, Baby Please Come Home' (Cher and Rosie O'Donnell do a mean version. And by mean, I mean awesome.)</p><p>6.'Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays'- N'SYNC (annoying my family for a good 11 years.)</p><p>5. 'Santa, Can You Hear Me?'- Britney Spears (even better with choreography.)</p><p>4. 'Song for a Winter's Night'- Sara Mclachlan and Jewell</p><p>3. 'All I Want For Christmas is You'- Mariah Carey (also annoying my family for as long as I can remember, They're traditionalists.)</p><p>2. 'Do You See What I See?'- Martina McBride (I wish I could sing just so I could sing this song.)</p><p>1. 'The Christmas Song'- The Raveonettes (If you've never heard this song, stop what you're doing and listen to it. It's everything Christmas should be. Happy, sappy, traditional, untraditional, and just plain amazing.)</p><p>*Honorable Mentions: 'Winter Song' by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson, 'A Valley Winter Song' by Fountains of Wayne, and 'Christmas Day' by Dido. </p><p><b>Top 10 Christmas Foods:</b></p><p>(In no particular order, because really? They're all just that good.)</p><p>10. Spinach dip (with or without the spinach, it's always delicious)<br /></p><p>9. Lil' Smokies</p><p>8. Mashed potatoes</p><p>7. Turkey</p><p>6. Bubble Bread (made by my aunt, eaten by all, known for it's carmely, butterscotchy deliciousness)</p><p>5. My mother's peanut-butter fudge (locally renowned and extremely hard to make)</p><p>4. Apple Cider (made with that little box of goodness sold at Hallmark. Only acceptable form)</p><p>3. Munner Toast (Something I haven't had in waaayyy to many years. And kind of a family secret. And so it shall remain.)</p><p>2. Breakfast Quiche (Perfected by the Grandma)</p><p>1. Funeral Potatoes (love the crunchy cornflakes on top. Google it.)</p><p>*Honorable Mentions: Hot chocolate (should cider not be available), pumpkin pie, and rolls (with lots and lots of butter).</p><p><b>Top 10 Favorite Things About Christmas:</b></p><p>(According to me, of course. In order, but only according to my mood at the time the list was made.)</p><p>10. Shopping (Love finding the perfect present.)</p><p>9. Going Home (Love the Family. And the Friends.)</p><p>8. Sledding (See #2.)</p><p>7. The Smells (cookies, fire smoke, Christmas trees, oranges, and peppermint.)</p><p>6. Parties</p><p>5. Secret Santa </p><p>4. Presents! </p><p>3. Decorations (Especially lights. And candles. And anything with glitter.)</p><p>2. SNOW! (It's not Christmas unless it's a White Christmas.)</p><p>1. Going to bed with all the anticipation of a 12 year old. Waking up as a 12 year old. Spending the day doing pretty much the exact same things you did when you were actually 12 years old. </p><p>*Honorable Mentions: Christmas cards (sending and receiving), all the delicious food mentioned in the previous list, and my recurring Christmas dream. </p>Whew! I think we covered it all. With that being said, <b>Merry Christmas to all and to all a good time!<br /><br /></b>(Please to stay tuned for the best of 2009. I know you can't wait.)<b><br /></b>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-44673964464801540772009-12-20T21:42:00.000-08:002009-12-20T21:45:40.968-08:00On 3-D Snowflakes, wooden stars, and sibling rivalries.I am not an art-and-crafty kind of person. That isn’t to say that I don’t like arts and crafts. Quite the opposite, in fact. I appreciate home- and handmade goodies as much as the next person. I especially love anything having to do with glitter, but that’s an entirely different post.<div class="entry"><div class="snap_preview"> <p>The problem with arts and crafts is that I suck at them. I have a feeling it’s my perfectionist personality, but put a glue gun or paintbrush in my hand and I start hyperventilating. Some people find it relaxing; I find it entirely too stressful and time-consuming.</p> <p>Which is why you might be surprised to learn that I made this little piece of awesome at work the other day.</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuC_JA8ONZtyOKueDpJdyUl1isRKIbsHkoqE-OhZLINIw5vdspESxqBDkb8ui91khyphenhyphenPPGzOOjY5xvsqzJjGpBZbo2m2-fIyc-03WskZ8aAAeSJEWUN6G9cGKxAEBrVmdoVgG2VoOBfOMx/s1600-h/-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuC_JA8ONZtyOKueDpJdyUl1isRKIbsHkoqE-OhZLINIw5vdspESxqBDkb8ui91khyphenhyphenPPGzOOjY5xvsqzJjGpBZbo2m2-fIyc-03WskZ8aAAeSJEWUN6G9cGKxAEBrVmdoVgG2VoOBfOMx/s200/-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417560984233760482" border="0" /></a></p> <p>How long did this snowflake take me? Only approximately 2 and 1/2 hours. That’s nothing, right? RIGHT?!</p> <p>Ok, fine. So it took me forever. And so it only took my assistant manager an hour or so to make hers. And so hers was approximately twice the size of mine. WHATEVER. My process was complete with tantrums, paper cuts, and utter confusion on why I couldn’t cut the paper the right way. Basically, mine was made with STYLE. (And at least it eventually got made, right?)</p> <p>The whole debacle was very reminiscent of the time my grandma took my sister and I to paint wooden Christmas stars. Growing up in a town that was/is predominantly LDS, I was often given the chance to be arty and crafty. After the first few failed attempts, I quickly learned to say no. But who can say no to a Christmas-themed event with family? (Plus they had food, and let me tell you, those mormons make some delicious food.) And so off we were to paint a wooden star.</p> <p>This star was cute. And it still is cute to this day. Definitely one of my all-time favorite endeavors. Basically, the game plan was this. Paint the star exactly like the model they provided us with. How could I mess it up? And really, I didn’t. It turned out exactly how I wanted it to. I was successful!</p> <p>So what was the problem, you ask? The problem appeared when my star was compared to my sister’s.</p> <p>A little background on my sister. She’s a pain in my ass. I love her to death and will forever jump off the end of the dock at the cabin in the summer time, but she somehow always manages to one-up me. And never on purpose, which always makes me feel that more inferior. Which is good, because she always challenges me to do more with my life, but is mostly bad because she’s always one step ahead of me.</p> <p>But back to the star. My sister decided she was above following the directions. And so, she took some creative liberties. And came up with a star that kicked my star’s ass. Did anyone even notice that I had actually managed to finish a craft project and that it actually came out? Nope. They were all too busy ooh’ing and aah’ing over how my sister had managed to blend the colors in the hat so well and how her star’s face had so much more character than anyone else’s.</p> <p>Obviously, I have sister-issues*, as most people with siblings do. I probably need therapy, and someday, I’ll probably actually go. And then I will probably be forced to burn my star and my sisters star as a metaphor that I have accepted our differences and truly let them go. But for now, I will always make sure that my star is on display instead of hers.</p> <p>—————————————–</p> <p>*Like I said, I love my sister. This post was in no way meant to dredge up any drama. In fact, I wish she was here instead of Russia. Christmas won’t be the same without her.</p> </div> </div><br /><div class="entry"> <div class="snap_preview"><br /></div> </div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-25514701593576114522009-11-26T11:56:00.000-08:002009-11-26T12:10:51.902-08:00Giving Some Thanks, volume 4<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnTc_8Ll52c2iorPcrz3yDnl7BRbFnKaxxdkAqSKnA97SoQMF6ODshnrRSFyEwgD3J2nsot3p9hxSnfsiuNC3-QJSirF1GoOjKDfa8kf0so9NISM3RWGIugf2Vu0VtG-vJ47GJw3WGri2/s1600/1happy-thanksgiving.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnTc_8Ll52c2iorPcrz3yDnl7BRbFnKaxxdkAqSKnA97SoQMF6ODshnrRSFyEwgD3J2nsot3p9hxSnfsiuNC3-QJSirF1GoOjKDfa8kf0so9NISM3RWGIugf2Vu0VtG-vJ47GJw3WGri2/s200/1happy-thanksgiving.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408507123038249762" border="0" /></a><br />Today is the big day. The turkey is nestled in Brittany's oven (I'm hoping anyways), my brownies and rice krispie treats are ready to go, and my fingers are ready to rock some Band Hero. Even though I wish I was home with my crazy wonderful family, I am very thankful that I have a houseful of crazy wonderful people to celebrate it with here. Have a good one!Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-1581796933520154652009-11-24T20:43:00.000-08:002009-11-24T21:00:46.330-08:00Giving Some Thanks, volume 3Tonight I am thankful for my bed. For it is the most comfortable bed in all the land. And it is calling my name as I type this.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqflmleCoeTLstOEJ0Ox7kMPOLrFEDqcoMNAlEBfZ-idVf8gbmx5jVQVVjuEOR41HyajO7K63sid8U6H82oO85h-zahEMnaVq5587t9MJDr4f_N_IgFqf2Pgqzn4ewMx92ORvzy7D4Sv5/s1600/4243.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 161px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqflmleCoeTLstOEJ0Ox7kMPOLrFEDqcoMNAlEBfZ-idVf8gbmx5jVQVVjuEOR41HyajO7K63sid8U6H82oO85h-zahEMnaVq5587t9MJDr4f_N_IgFqf2Pgqzn4ewMx92ORvzy7D4Sv5/s200/4243.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407901406580147522" border="0" /></a><br />*The cartoon has nothing to do with my bed. But a narcoleptic turkey? Definitely made me laugh.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-55046207160487017242009-11-23T21:59:00.000-08:002009-11-23T22:14:32.750-08:00Giving Some Thanks, volume 2Today I am thankful for books. Of all kinds. The following are just a few of my favorites (and also what I'm currently reading):<br /> <br /><br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJc91uGzFV2hJv1JEIYQDpW_tsB6HMgUlamttf52NFroN38488CtdmXr3dzZ5wfRHHmK3fpphujJQLlSVmUtRyXHGKLCRWCMvYtczVrHHEzceX0lYO5WB6RTewB8vufKBdZrUGn0WO-E-5/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJc91uGzFV2hJv1JEIYQDpW_tsB6HMgUlamttf52NFroN38488CtdmXr3dzZ5wfRHHmK3fpphujJQLlSVmUtRyXHGKLCRWCMvYtczVrHHEzceX0lYO5WB6RTewB8vufKBdZrUGn0WO-E-5/s200/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407547114330678786" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ5nqV1MSgJMZsJp9yoECKxzIRt1aLuz8hrKyrJFcLiBvmRmtcJ1VnhLYxYS8uI9aN82lr0DzouUp2gjnYBiRTUdFhPAhsvxDDMz1QTXebV9FyIFtK4Pk7RxcQ-F0uZ9zqCeqfW7KpTJF/s1600/images-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 92px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ5nqV1MSgJMZsJp9yoECKxzIRt1aLuz8hrKyrJFcLiBvmRmtcJ1VnhLYxYS8uI9aN82lr0DzouUp2gjnYBiRTUdFhPAhsvxDDMz1QTXebV9FyIFtK4Pk7RxcQ-F0uZ9zqCeqfW7KpTJF/s200/images-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407547109188833522" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRjBfTB8s-Iu5lnlCD9a2HapOuXh0PPErBYYXnRmAWyl4e4gzB4w3WeeUpGnMd2hzU__yoi2MPXIkdReDr1RTbLzz1Rd_gdGsvpn5vQtDeigAxOqrm6ZbX1G7WAcL_wqDJ7j5vUzEiX_W/s1600/images-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNRjBfTB8s-Iu5lnlCD9a2HapOuXh0PPErBYYXnRmAWyl4e4gzB4w3WeeUpGnMd2hzU__yoi2MPXIkdReDr1RTbLzz1Rd_gdGsvpn5vQtDeigAxOqrm6ZbX1G7WAcL_wqDJ7j5vUzEiX_W/s200/images-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407547106268363666" border="0" /></a> <br /><br />I've always been a big reader. And also a fast one. In elementary school, when the teacher would make us read in groups, my group members would make me speed-read whatever we were assigned so we could be the first group finished. Problem was, however, that I was the only one who understood anything of what I read. Little did my group members know that they were making themselves look bad and me look even better.<br /><br />Anyways, my current job allows a lot of time for reading, and while I may complain about my job (A Lot), this is one aspect I do enjoy. For that one moment when I immerse myself in someone else's words, I am also immersed in someone else's world. The truly great writers have an uncanny ability to put me right in the middle of the action, freezing in the pouring rain or crying when Dumbledore died. No matter the situation, for a few moments each day, I get the chance to escape from all the trifling events in the world. And for that, I am very thankful.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4c-V6jfr4e0GEEdapnu9gnEfJcNsLax2IIrS5y3Ylq0pEyNgtc-UVWPuyxnwPqq2yM4xCJhdt5lHrpIVFrCKkoVM2qkz_ne2eNxci_ZCVbpaBPYzbOla_a0bz5sXXYK5_mGKY9Ztv4x-f/s1600/images-2.jpg"> </a>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-6345213701185098242009-11-22T21:44:00.001-08:002009-11-22T22:10:06.964-08:00Giving some Thanks, volume 1So yeah. I know it's been a while since I've blogged. Quite a while, actually. But every time I sat down and tried to write something, nothing good would come out. And I don't really have anything good to say right now, but in honor of Thanksgiving, I think I will try and post one thing I am thankful for every day. And for today, I am thankful for...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoksqeM-aiNbgXnvLLEn4kjSx9wXMLRsrQDwE3z6kpvg9q4Jtj0gwxYUrFewXg4gWp8hS1j_08kXlKzS5-mfcJ8_3o-lpvOh8owADiB_cGzbzmXTHnUc319jMQuI-JBOEI9AP6wQzZnsgw/s1600/1111menthalipshine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoksqeM-aiNbgXnvLLEn4kjSx9wXMLRsrQDwE3z6kpvg9q4Jtj0gwxYUrFewXg4gWp8hS1j_08kXlKzS5-mfcJ8_3o-lpvOh8owADiB_cGzbzmXTHnUc319jMQuI-JBOEI9AP6wQzZnsgw/s400/1111menthalipshine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407173276994877730" border="0" /></a>C.O. Bigelow Spearmint Mentha LipShine. I am thankful for it's minty freshness and it's shiny goodness. I am thankful that it's always there when I need it (unless I put it somewhere unexpected and can't find it and then it stresses me out). I am easily obsessed with things, but at the same time, if something new and better comes along, I can change my mind just like that. But this stuff? Has been at the top of my list for all my chapped lipped needs ever since I discovered it. Thanks you C.O. Bigelow. My lips love you.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-63067481374950334342009-10-08T15:25:00.000-07:002009-10-08T15:30:13.717-07:00The Mom ChroniclesBefore I post the funniness that is this email, let me preface it by saying that my mother is in no way prejudiced against anyone of latin, hispanic, african american, european, australian, etc, etc origins. She wants to learn spanish and thinks this is helping her. <br /><br />To: Emily<br />From: Your madre<br /><br />Hola, comoesta:<br /> <br /> You speak engisha?<br /> <br /> I still looking for eh sweater with pumpkin big on it. Please respond when you find.<br /> <br /> Tankyou<br /> Sopfie Maria<br /><br />No, I don't know who Sopfie Maria is, although I have a feeling it is her spanish-speaking alter-ego. All I really know is that my mother is highly entertaining.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-14506689714333681852009-09-30T21:27:00.001-07:002009-09-30T21:53:26.329-07:00The Loves of my LifeMonday night (after watching The Proposal with PIC) was spent lol'ing at Seinfeld, doing The Pro's accounting final, and partaking in some quality texting with QS and The Rangeboy. Somehow, we ended up discussing all the things we love in life. And there's quite a few. Reviewing the list made me super happy and so I decided to post it here. Mainly because it's a pain in the ass having to scroll through all the texts (one thing the iPhone has that I wish my blackberry did), but also because I love making lists.<br /><br />And so, I present for you, the Loves of my Life:<br />*Seinfeld<br />*Rainy days<br />*Hot fudge sundaes<br />*Bars that serve popcorn<br />*Karaoke<br />*Sappy movies<br />*Bardenay<br />*Target<br />*Christmas lights<br />*Driving alone and singing loud<br />*Pictures<br />*Sharpie markers<br />*Ground squirrels<br />*Puppies<br />*Traveling<br />*Glitter and sequins<br />*Bar trivia<br />*Rum (even though it makes me crazy and emotional)<br />*Picking out the perfect present for someone<br />*Music that says everything you can't say<br />*Butterflies you get in your stomach when thinking of someone that makes you supremely happy<br />*BSU football (Go Broncos!)<br />*Red Sox baseball<br />*The Super Bowl<br />*Ryan Reynolds<br />*Papa Kelsey's<br />*Waking up and realizing you still have 2 more hours to sleep<br />*Potatoes<br />*Halloween<br />*Books that you can't put down<br />*Marathon phone/text conversations with great friends<br />*Surprises<br />*Puppies<br />*Kitties<br />*Laughing with little kids<br />*Laughing until you're crying<br />*Scarves<br />*Jimmy Johns<br />*Running around barefoot<br />*Writing<br />*Wearing glasses<br />*Gilmore Girls<br />*Greek<br />*Jergens cherry-almond lotion<br />*Texts From Last Night<br />*My family<br />*Making lists<br />*The moments when everything makes sense<br />*The fact that I have such good friends that I consider them my 2nd family.<br /><br />So I could really go on and on. Apparently, I love a lot of things. Some might call it indecisiveness. I call it having a zest for life.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-13225058346419998432009-09-30T21:20:00.000-07:002009-09-30T21:26:08.377-07:00Famousness!Disco Pierre is famous! I'm sure everyone has heard of PeopleofWalmart.com. If not, then you need to join the 21st century. Anyways, Disco Pierre managed to use his sneaky photography skills and catch this classic WalMarter.<br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387482741556583074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDozix26tduOuW1bNaQ6TchKvRrIA5HnfSu0Q1LrGjXNCCjEj9qddYqrDsaBQv4I9Whqjr5iiIuiMslcAAaLy-4UaayDL253C8NU3p7SmvrB_gzobPmd-0Op4P9T-jYLEyv-OIgGfOWUkM/s400/243.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><p></p><p>I personally love the brown socks (with sandals) and the fanny pack. </p><p></p><p>Here's the website. It's an excellent waste of time, if I do say so myself. </p><p><a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/?p=4498#comments">http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/?p=4498#comments</a></p>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-15266013672748264242009-09-23T11:18:00.000-07:002009-09-23T11:35:31.521-07:00The Mom ChroniclesMy mom is awesome. In more ways than one. Today, I share her with you. <br /><br />Mom: So after we left Barnes and Noble, we decided to go to Dairy Queen for dinner. Except N had to get M, and then L didn't know how to get there so she followed me. <br /><br />Me: Ok.<br /><br />Mom: But then I forgot that L was following me and when I tried to look for her, there was this big truck behind me. So I slowed way down so he would get mad and pass me, but he didn't. So then we were almost to DQ and I still didn't know if L was behind me. So I turned on Woodruff and pulled over. <br /><br />Me: This is the longest story ever. <br /><br />Mom: Be quiet. I haven't even gotten to the good part. So I try to call L but my cell phone is dead, but then this nice man comes to my window. He wants to know if I want to buy peaches. I tell him no, but ask if I can borrow his cell phone to call L. He says yes and so I try to call L and N, but they both didn't answer. So then he says I can text them if I want, but I don't know how to text. So then he does it for me. And then I tell him the story about how I broke my ankle and the other nice man that helped me then. <br /><br />Me: Why did you tell him that story?<br /><br />Mom: Because they were both nice. But anyways, then I decided that since he was so nice that I would buy some peaches. So I bought a bag of peaches for $5, but then I only had a $10 bill. So I bought 2 bags of peaches. <br /><br />Me: Why didn't you just get change? <br /><br />Mom:......I don't know. Think grandma will want some peaches? <br /><br />Gotta love her.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-61877939665626457792009-09-23T09:44:00.000-07:002009-09-23T10:29:18.804-07:00Falling for fall...I can't decide if this summer was a good one or not. I have a feeling that since I can't decide, that I'm leaning towards the not-good side. It wasn't a horrible summer, by any means. It just wasn't spectacular. I'm going to blame it on this whole 'being a grown-up' thing. Summer was so much more fun when I was a kid and could do nothing but lay on the couch all day and watch MTV. <br /><br />Anyways, now that summer is over, FALL IS HERE! And I love the fall. You might say I'm a sucker for it and anything fall-related. Here's a list for you:<br /><br />-I'm a sucker for anything apply, pumpkiny, nutmeggy, or cinnamony. We're talking candles, baked goods, cider, yummy waffles made in a sandwich maker (umm...it's wednesday. Where were my yummy waffles this morning?), and things on a stick. It's all good. All of it. Oh-except for cinnamon mints. Those are gross anytime of the year, <br /><br />-I'm a sucker for football. I have been since elementary school, where I was introduced to my very first Emotion Bowl. Granted, at that point, I really just liked getting to stay out late and dye my hair orange and black. Now I actually like the game. And yes, I do actually know how it works, TYVM. <br /><br />-Speaking of football, I'm specifically a sucker for a very certain team who is kicking butt as usual. Go Broncos! <br /><br />-I'm a sucker for Halloween*. Might just be my favorite holiday of all time. I love the parties, the stories, the tricks and the treats, and I love that you get the chance to let your imagination come alive for one night and run free. I'm also a sucker for adorable Princess Ballerina's, Scooby-Doos, and Vampires. <br /><br />-I'm a sucker for pumpkins. And not just for carving them (which I'm awesome at, by the way.). I also loooove leaves. I still have a Ziploc bag full of all the leaves I collected in Boston. What I'm going to do with them, I couldn't tell you. But I still loooove them. Plus, after you rake them all up, you get to jump in them and rake them all up again. It's the best cycle ever. <br /><br />-Lastly, I'm a sucker for believing that fall is a time for starting over. For finding that balance you need to make it through the end of the year. Time starts to slow down (or so it seems) and life starts to slow down. And that is definitely what I need. Besides a new life plan, anyways. <br /><br />---------------<br />*Speaking of Halloween, I need awesome costume ideas. Individual and group please. And go.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-31243876877936623072009-09-21T21:15:00.000-07:002009-09-21T21:26:36.820-07:00Still waiting......for the rest of the girls to post their pictures from The Roommate's wedding, but until then, here are three of my favorites. I won't go into wedding details, since the pictures do a much better job, but just know that it was definitely in my top 3. Which is a feat all in itself.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlbSY7YQaqwZiN_SRvmh57Eb4Ei6ZaLhbiN1-0fLwUfAqHGUeE5e5dRxXJ8T4kvmtCVSArcxv8zAi26bZ9FvpfZQAW9Jm2XugCxl7A64q7yw_VJAnNnUry-QlMUSHsm8lFqm_QqIVzFpY/s1600-h/EBL2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384140956950471602" style="WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWlbSY7YQaqwZiN_SRvmh57Eb4Ei6ZaLhbiN1-0fLwUfAqHGUeE5e5dRxXJ8T4kvmtCVSArcxv8zAi26bZ9FvpfZQAW9Jm2XugCxl7A64q7yw_VJAnNnUry-QlMUSHsm8lFqm_QqIVzFpY/s320/EBL2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />*The girls at Mt. Rushmore! Check that off my life list.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLprN6sA6Leo87m5lZELU6SKJbAaie6c6Hdx5PAaCdY5i5ow7P1xLRzTrRGo6Vxtv381mXz73SDt0Av0iMGP_oHFpnJ7rRgL6fXHiSjp7L-o6gffJOX8SLX3dk8iISOYqEnH5P5ZmOinww/s1600-h/EBL5.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQy_YNMu-fP_tbODPKO3NNPfdHxw7Dx8bExDtoiGsQxwtm_R13yYb6OiZg6DKaVmzvl6C1OvOBb9rmN7DqqmgFdjgnFELT1nnRPgE1RKE6hJM6XAMVPlE5X6pYtr8fsXmis9J7B0BUGgXs/s1600-h/EBL3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384140965865113202" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQy_YNMu-fP_tbODPKO3NNPfdHxw7Dx8bExDtoiGsQxwtm_R13yYb6OiZg6DKaVmzvl6C1OvOBb9rmN7DqqmgFdjgnFELT1nnRPgE1RKE6hJM6XAMVPlE5X6pYtr8fsXmis9J7B0BUGgXs/s320/EBL3.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>*The Hot One and I. The Roommate was too hungover to take any more pictures with us. We're lucky she even made the drive!</div><div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyHm7JracPZxbJT_zu-phT88j_Plo0t1Ks8GFLhcFIY3HUedt_ppC3Id92sLD-uw8fGMgx8aA9Q5DzuMXhVkmztwcOKN6uvNzofrc7lYrCoMV63e2QdF2rN5oYQz2NSPkvCZpBBvKMyLL/s1600-h/EBL4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384140975849418450" style="WIDTH: 239px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 173px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyHm7JracPZxbJT_zu-phT88j_Plo0t1Ks8GFLhcFIY3HUedt_ppC3Id92sLD-uw8fGMgx8aA9Q5DzuMXhVkmztwcOKN6uvNzofrc7lYrCoMV63e2QdF2rN5oYQz2NSPkvCZpBBvKMyLL/s320/EBL4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />*Awww. I still love these girls after all those years apart (hey-two years feels like a lifetime). Reunion 2009 was a success. Still deciding on where to go for Reunion 2010. </div><div>Anyone have any good ideas?</div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-34988404322716251762009-09-16T21:09:00.000-07:002009-09-16T21:58:16.152-07:00Just a quick one...Woo! In exactly 23 days, I leave for Reno. Gotta love spur of the moment travel decisions. Especially when the ticket was only $100 round trip. Super excited to play in Lake Tahoe, kick ass at Blackjack and hang out with my favorite teacher!<br /><div></div><br /><div>---------------</div><br /><div>In other news, this is so two days ago. But really? How can I not put this on here? Team Taylor represent!</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382295981591091010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf27opvBDuPo3df2Q3nggRd1B2sW7Wbk67phit7W0Ld4AIgKqJu3syP9FrG14wKcugnpk2L_ZBnAGjCXcCFvvWEpjTEHLK5uYF51Mf3i5y8ZG6DXjb2MzFismsq_W6IlCF9BqAAW1ZY9q2/s320/tswift.jpg" border="0" /></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-47722728092872293392009-09-15T20:54:00.000-07:002009-09-15T21:32:48.287-07:00Ramblings continued...So I believe I left off with the question of why I haven't done anything about my current life predicament. Here's what you need to know:<br /><br />*I change my mind. A lot. Like every other day.<br />*If you asked me to list things I could see myself doing for the rest of my life, I could easily list 7. Which is a lot when you're trying to make a life-changing decision.<br />*I have a really good life in Boise. One full of family and friends that are like a second family. 98 percent of the time I have a fan-freakin-tastic time and life couldn't be better.<br />*I have this problem where I can't make a decision that affects myself without considering how it would affect a certain handful of people (namely my immediate family. Times are a little rough and I don't feel it's responsible of me to gamble with my life when it kind of gambles with their lives too.).<br />*I second-guess myself. A lot. Apparently, I'm not a risk-taker and fear plays a huge role in the decision-making process.<br /><br />On the other hand of the spectrum, however:<br /><br />*I'm a very restless person. I almost always have to be doing something.<br />*I always pictured myself somewhere completely different from where I'm at now. See <a href="http://idahoemily.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-first-blog-ever.html">this post </a>for related information. It's also one of my favorites.<br />*My sister is currently living in Russia. Something I thought I would be more likely to do than her (not necessarily the Russian thing. But the living abroad thing.) It definitely bothers me that I'm still living in Idaho, still working in retail, and still no where closer to achieving any of my big plans.<br /><br />So yeah. Every three months or so, I go through this funk. It basically consumes my entire life. I yell at myself for still living in Boise, for not going to graduate school, for not moving somewhere to experience life a little differently. I kick myself for not taking advantage of this carefree time in my life, the time when I could do anything I wanted. And then sometimes I make plans. For instance, last fall, I decided I was ready to leave. I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I decided that Portland was a good place to accomplish both (it also helped that PIC and Disco Pierre* had decided to move there too). And so I looked into school. And places to live. And then life got fun again and those plans completely fizzled out. Which really didn't surprise me or anyone else. Because that's how I roll.<br /><br />And that's still how I roll. My current plan is to move to Greece. Don't ask me what I will do there. It just sounds fun and exotic and like it would make other people jealous. Don't worry, though. Tomorrow, I'll probably want to become a dentist. Basically what I'm saying is this: it's a good thing I still have four years left to figure my shit out. Because I'm going to need it.<br /><br />--------------<br />*From here on out, M2J2 is now Disco Pierre. As in 'Disco Pierre Knead Stoner.' As in inside joke.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-90215281381613228372009-09-14T19:00:00.000-07:002009-09-14T19:31:05.721-07:00Cue awesome 80's WhiteSnake music here...Ever have one of those days (or weeks or months or years) when you have a million and one thoughts racing around your head all at once? One of those days where it would be soooo nice to put them all somewhere where they would just leave you alone? A place such as a blog? <br /><br />Yeah. That happened to me. And I have a blog. Right here. This one that you're reading right now. So why haven't I posted in over a month? <br /><br />Ever have one of those days (or weeks or months or years) where all those thoughts in your head make no sense at all? To you or anyone kind enough to try and let you get it all out? <br /><br />Yep. That was me again. <br /><br />So instead of letting the internet try and have a go at making sense of the madness inhabiting my head, I put it all down in paper form. I filled almost an entire notebook in one month. Filled it with ramblings about nothing and everything all at once. Did it solve any of my problems? No. Did it do any good? Hell yes. It emptied my mind. It made me realize that I still have the same giant questions I had three years ago when I graduated from college. I'm still in the same place, which to me, feels like essentially nowhere, despite the fact that others continually tell me otherwise. <br />So if I've felt this way for the last three years, why haven't I done anything about it? <br /><br />Good question. And one we shall tackle on another day.Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-41830366200105681012009-08-13T21:57:00.001-07:002009-08-14T21:47:16.909-07:00Photo OverloadThanks to the BFF, I can now post actual pictures from The Circle's cabin trip. Somehow, BFF managed to only be in one picture, and a long-distance one at that. We'll have to change that the next time around!<br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>*Triple K looking pensive.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNyuHoLem0ll0eQWZCKuhzvfdamIGXR_-9M7qvfSIYuYVtlypOvsuCyGNqDXR_tA-rYemNnA4CVVju0yDfawAHoJI5xyz-TecIkd5O1c_BKHVZtliFLApF1OYVtWBgNVrY947b7EEl-_B/s1600-h/718720206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369680050238057042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNyuHoLem0ll0eQWZCKuhzvfdamIGXR_-9M7qvfSIYuYVtlypOvsuCyGNqDXR_tA-rYemNnA4CVVju0yDfawAHoJI5xyz-TecIkd5O1c_BKHVZtliFLApF1OYVtWBgNVrY947b7EEl-_B/s200/718720206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a>*QS with my sunglasses.<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkP40EcUtSGlen31e7qmYko9dKmznQe3Ir_7CX91wr95VR6RRXaxYLY38D07COhrhKnk3CaljA7iBqWMldqAllK2gZzdQEcdljEhCq7cWlhuxPjR4m9TqQoKlJfXbHcm5cMLikEj8TS6UK/s1600-h/938720206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369687916037700322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkP40EcUtSGlen31e7qmYko9dKmznQe3Ir_7CX91wr95VR6RRXaxYLY38D07COhrhKnk3CaljA7iBqWMldqAllK2gZzdQEcdljEhCq7cWlhuxPjR4m9TqQoKlJfXbHcm5cMLikEj8TS6UK/s200/938720206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>*Me looking ridiculous.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqV32cFhmLM2bEwQrCw4bpXYejEDcF2PJVycdrxpunxzBefpoSdpfdesvGhv3KcxHjBN77oueimVxvkz-J-gFf9bJNGO4bRDJmmQTc7dRXNO6474FrAhFXC3OY9bxkTF9stbbpfYgzyDeQ/s1600-h/688720206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369680041306256418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqV32cFhmLM2bEwQrCw4bpXYejEDcF2PJVycdrxpunxzBefpoSdpfdesvGhv3KcxHjBN77oueimVxvkz-J-gFf9bJNGO4bRDJmmQTc7dRXNO6474FrAhFXC3OY9bxkTF9stbbpfYgzyDeQ/s200/688720206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br />*The Pro being lame and sick and whiny.<br /><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZx7FJ3So8aOprOC1tdMoioj2U-bCDTF__yke_H38KFaLIA9AhUfkEevmDCSDz6RsfGewc0JBhvv-th-ryXE1Pcg2OzekWPCpYkhY45iD2hyphenhyphenIS_usFkSU1O0mVdiAzwDaAdoDs9UFjGxZi/s1600-h/228720206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369686876195482082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZx7FJ3So8aOprOC1tdMoioj2U-bCDTF__yke_H38KFaLIA9AhUfkEevmDCSDz6RsfGewc0JBhvv-th-ryXE1Pcg2OzekWPCpYkhY45iD2hyphenhyphenIS_usFkSU1O0mVdiAzwDaAdoDs9UFjGxZi/s200/228720206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>*Princess Ballerina. Too cute for words.</div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIH1eXXLE9u8QWJcncHdMqRpBQbxUXGSzvkk2cZ0vz2F2MV97DYGlb7nV6hDDKTfRyuVwe431cijZ4rNAf4mtC5pN7qUkR2xpUOHS_S7LyWgfE3qETuBsejgLqPR3TExBuKWs-w83eyO8r/s1600-h/797720206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369680056299925138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIH1eXXLE9u8QWJcncHdMqRpBQbxUXGSzvkk2cZ0vz2F2MV97DYGlb7nV6hDDKTfRyuVwe431cijZ4rNAf4mtC5pN7qUkR2xpUOHS_S7LyWgfE3qETuBsejgLqPR3TExBuKWs-w83eyO8r/s200/797720206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>*Jet-skis are awesome.<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvgYHLbDTRPGXuUCcP9XKUcR2W4WK8TP4DEp017v2vYuKr4Ezw97B0-VCfDDXvskjxhkO3l97o2FgJgR9eS_EruTB-XC2QTmoSMjYJQ07KcY98xGUEbolfw6OIbnXZbadUuzL3bqKJsL7/s1600-h/318720206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679694561279570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtvgYHLbDTRPGXuUCcP9XKUcR2W4WK8TP4DEp017v2vYuKr4Ezw97B0-VCfDDXvskjxhkO3l97o2FgJgR9eS_EruTB-XC2QTmoSMjYJQ07KcY98xGUEbolfw6OIbnXZbadUuzL3bqKJsL7/s200/318720206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>*So are my tubing skills.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2OyNq6xco_ghKTHt6ihJfytrlYr169rQy_v09G1ouHz4tOUcaL-5FVtw7HVYq-AmVvzRC1cyO8DyD4ZxcEJn5KH-cLuXE6y53HjbIe2LsWdLAeaitRzDtDaAsLyPuryyf_XU4yNvD1Bi/s1600-h/424640206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679697598705362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO2OyNq6xco_ghKTHt6ihJfytrlYr169rQy_v09G1ouHz4tOUcaL-5FVtw7HVYq-AmVvzRC1cyO8DyD4ZxcEJn5KH-cLuXE6y53HjbIe2LsWdLAeaitRzDtDaAsLyPuryyf_XU4yNvD1Bi/s200/424640206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>*Triple K spent a lot of time in the water<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqDd4z9SMowjPC0RKajW_eptMLOuHws7RJCQPMJBovKjExXlYpiYLiiErubjNlAlqLVcp59E1_9_-JgCkaiCzjhUPOoRz8vuGgb3vAyVUOfHj09oukJ0cON9rtC1Bm6uH7fEG5ToZe23T/s1600-h/578720206113_0_SM.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679712830979202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 96px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 72px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqDd4z9SMowjPC0RKajW_eptMLOuHws7RJCQPMJBovKjExXlYpiYLiiErubjNlAlqLVcp59E1_9_-JgCkaiCzjhUPOoRz8vuGgb3vAyVUOfHj09oukJ0cON9rtC1Bm6uH7fEG5ToZe23T/s200/578720206113_0_SM.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>*The Pro thought he had tube burn on his knees. Really, he<br />just didn't put on sunscreen. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0CDCP4uB7kCePo8NVTtyqJ_y4_gf9CCvJNBJ0HixwLfiRvwHHPDumNavYJ3iAbRdA96PgmbP_MdnMjZLlWwsOTo8GxzJZzdH4Z85kbDiWnb9UG3C2u8V3Ys4RKXAXcL6S6zY6X2bKFrP/s1600-h/593640206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679718097830050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0CDCP4uB7kCePo8NVTtyqJ_y4_gf9CCvJNBJ0HixwLfiRvwHHPDumNavYJ3iAbRdA96PgmbP_MdnMjZLlWwsOTo8GxzJZzdH4Z85kbDiWnb9UG3C2u8V3Ys4RKXAXcL6S6zY6X2bKFrP/s200/593640206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>*BFF is a wimpy driver. We'll work on it.<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhbffkoz0jrW1XD9yFRkKn0WdxraYrVn_7D1BhptaNXJHHjVsPkjO92SyW12IUIH4MVZmXHAurgyKLTfXS5rViIOxrPK3ESr3wSHPt5f-90rVW7235TNBtADfpso41v-Gs2h04nMqcuKe/s1600-h/484640206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679707665579202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhbffkoz0jrW1XD9yFRkKn0WdxraYrVn_7D1BhptaNXJHHjVsPkjO92SyW12IUIH4MVZmXHAurgyKLTfXS5rViIOxrPK3ESr3wSHPt5f-90rVW7235TNBtADfpso41v-Gs2h04nMqcuKe/s200/484640206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>*Halleyouya!<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB31JsN0k5juQvW9wB9mPbZnvZKDFDyisemDOrFRfXegU2HA6KwkXT47kAAkDIVPlQrOPJ2wIISMUhvY0LoLQIRY6jSn5Ky-QYRY9E7_Je9wBtiqXrXvWAQ8pX1X1gkbCl9EvPIel63UhM/s1600-h/133060206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679433468166242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB31JsN0k5juQvW9wB9mPbZnvZKDFDyisemDOrFRfXegU2HA6KwkXT47kAAkDIVPlQrOPJ2wIISMUhvY0LoLQIRY6jSn5Ky-QYRY9E7_Je9wBtiqXrXvWAQ8pX1X1gkbCl9EvPIel63UhM/s200/133060206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>*The Jiffy-Pop predicament. Good thing they come in two's.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNwq-pB_4GkBJ3RyYFF-MU4Ox1piL-z_qFjeacXsQRRzR8lJd6xRBo2LroBU_JxsHEeEuVC7h1h1pAGn7RiZbDeODvYD0y0yjjsELLLMwHQ0YybQ7HqgrtE7P0JZmYx2h0Z2MN9ZsobLQ/s1600-h/984640206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369680074152855378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNwq-pB_4GkBJ3RyYFF-MU4Ox1piL-z_qFjeacXsQRRzR8lJd6xRBo2LroBU_JxsHEeEuVC7h1h1pAGn7RiZbDeODvYD0y0yjjsELLLMwHQ0YybQ7HqgrtE7P0JZmYx2h0Z2MN9ZsobLQ/s200/984640206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>*Do you hear what I hear?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluKly4UIwE_PoDlyrEXYi3DN2gH51W3Y3IlBWMen5v82rwhtF9u_p0M8JuqNZKiwwvmO0rFy7lJy20fydxQQHIRp-F5iKu_OqZkG6WkQWeCUcCK3DO5TMrNOuXSdTj9DYzXnPM48FgHwS/s1600-h/183060206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679407986459666" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluKly4UIwE_PoDlyrEXYi3DN2gH51W3Y3IlBWMen5v82rwhtF9u_p0M8JuqNZKiwwvmO0rFy7lJy20fydxQQHIRp-F5iKu_OqZkG6WkQWeCUcCK3DO5TMrNOuXSdTj9DYzXnPM48FgHwS/s200/183060206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div>*Matching shirts. Awesome!<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFDBJLtdPMuH6dMLRtvJXyazpwOEpDaOjWkXFspc8fvHdO6Tev7PyNS8uEnPPihJuKi-MId0dc8NmpfCHL8PngLjZxZU69bqt_ZNzCUZTSABcB1iY4wZ2fuph_6D-GemTtvWutto7yTDQ/s1600-h/525970206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679414526146482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFDBJLtdPMuH6dMLRtvJXyazpwOEpDaOjWkXFspc8fvHdO6Tev7PyNS8uEnPPihJuKi-MId0dc8NmpfCHL8PngLjZxZU69bqt_ZNzCUZTSABcB1iY4wZ2fuph_6D-GemTtvWutto7yTDQ/s200/525970206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div>*Mesa Falls=WOW!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0sp-hQrqRmkpaGIbC8r2j7nzCnz57IniWFM2ef-JjFdCGMevuXoQeQiJFMglL8myQ-t3-ObyIRrWgQ90QNAXdU5vepcX8ALK7rZueI3_oB2s4PCuJA6Lj0cFgqmxu71PXQsrk1sd7lB3/s1600-h/494970206113_0_ALB.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369679421839018002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0sp-hQrqRmkpaGIbC8r2j7nzCnz57IniWFM2ef-JjFdCGMevuXoQeQiJFMglL8myQ-t3-ObyIRrWgQ90QNAXdU5vepcX8ALK7rZueI3_oB2s4PCuJA6Lj0cFgqmxu71PXQsrk1sd7lB3/s200/494970206113_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So there you have it. In other news, PIC and I went and saw 500 Days of Summer. Good movie. Probably not the best of the summer, but there is still some time to go. Wedding countdown=13 days! Maybe I will share some other wedding stories. After all, I have a million of them! </div><div></div><div>----------</div><div>Please excuse the weird formatting problems. It is entirely Blogger's fault. </div><div></div></div></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3606585204962689845.post-10877943692745838412009-08-11T21:37:00.000-07:002009-08-11T23:20:28.194-07:00An ode to The Teacher...*The Teacher so nicely informed me tonight that my blogs are too wordy and that she doesn't have time in her busy life to read all my ramblings. And so I was going to post pictures of the cabin trip, but instead I decided to tell a story featuring The Teacher herself. Love you!*<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div> </div><div>Once upon a time, The Teacher and her friends came to visit from the school that doesn't know how to play football (might as well start off on the right foot. Go Broncos!)</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVBcw1ltY3oyb2nxkhDqmNTzk-gsagkZfwFhWQcqynM6mWHIgpynLloax3KUZArkBD4a3b3Z-EBx-Iu8WFoMNlDM812DvkQK_gxg_1l1Jdax6xlroEX7Zh7WMOLzEKe5rVp0JB3YSsvZw/s1600-h/kari2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368948080682310274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbVBcw1ltY3oyb2nxkhDqmNTzk-gsagkZfwFhWQcqynM6mWHIgpynLloax3KUZArkBD4a3b3Z-EBx-Iu8WFoMNlDM812DvkQK_gxg_1l1Jdax6xlroEX7Zh7WMOLzEKe5rVp0JB3YSsvZw/s200/kari2.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQwXU6cSl-WEHohYnPO1chImek9xU9oEk_NzWAv_PonDN6JF2r3s8c6Nz171fntg7pB09Gsz6DYs-UYysrAKYrb3WbQHCdwfvqgoE77s8tkwmgMo1oAFAHtWgcPC9SiFp99PE2kLk7spz/s1600-h/Kari1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368948091801156610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 98px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQwXU6cSl-WEHohYnPO1chImek9xU9oEk_NzWAv_PonDN6JF2r3s8c6Nz171fntg7pB09Gsz6DYs-UYysrAKYrb3WbQHCdwfvqgoE77s8tkwmgMo1oAFAHtWgcPC9SiFp99PE2kLk7spz/s200/Kari1.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Good times were had by all. The Teacher is a very inclusive person. Her friends are my friends and my friends are her friends. Especially when we are all friends with the alcohol. We ended up at China Blue for the majority of the night, where we danced and danced and danced some more. They had a special guest DJ from California that night who was spinning some awesome tunes. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUEeIChQaRCRczpivdYmCMJlkF7clLwR8Uf1es71KaV3o8ccZiw09yyuyZ6q8lWuU4OOAsy2r7wWphZMVe36kqtCIq_DpaO31y5mQVGUj0_HSKXMGTbo5yETMqs6p4H3a9EKsRi7Y3ftw/s1600-h/kari3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368948098561292802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUEeIChQaRCRczpivdYmCMJlkF7clLwR8Uf1es71KaV3o8ccZiw09yyuyZ6q8lWuU4OOAsy2r7wWphZMVe36kqtCIq_DpaO31y5mQVGUj0_HSKXMGTbo5yETMqs6p4H3a9EKsRi7Y3ftw/s200/kari3.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5jIVgANn854rj98ke-pu55n35C9I8q2ZhSMofiL4hOKGLzXXZVDAdSmfaBg5jb8sjS5Ij4eGqpEkkcHAHoOPKkHkcKAfpWU3WiYdNls38XvSq5GO-8aDoIBdOt-aPnB0_rFoT3KJwejA/s1600-h/kari5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368948108152925298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 98px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5jIVgANn854rj98ke-pu55n35C9I8q2ZhSMofiL4hOKGLzXXZVDAdSmfaBg5jb8sjS5Ij4eGqpEkkcHAHoOPKkHkcKAfpWU3WiYdNls38XvSq5GO-8aDoIBdOt-aPnB0_rFoT3KJwejA/s200/kari5.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>We're talking 'What a Feeling' mixed with Eminem mixed with 'I've Had the Time of My Life' mixed with Christina Milian. We're talking music so awesome that The Teacher herself went up to the DJ to tell him how awesome he was. And a new friendship was born. They even let us use the fans to cool ourselves off. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5KlwkSaC__aDFVo1SObJOqzaILFMGGA-Ql0JQHZcsUVvorODsYfXysyCsXcZzXlHMR1UfMRTtMu-3fUGvlAkdDIEjQDqyl_CjO6ums2xziL2ckc-Q6hHmKdDXNKe-8YEc0vOh7Al1ZKV/s1600-h/kari7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368948114913225954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5KlwkSaC__aDFVo1SObJOqzaILFMGGA-Ql0JQHZcsUVvorODsYfXysyCsXcZzXlHMR1UfMRTtMu-3fUGvlAkdDIEjQDqyl_CjO6ums2xziL2ckc-Q6hHmKdDXNKe-8YEc0vOh7Al1ZKV/s200/kari7.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>The Teacher just generally has a zest for life and gets excited about things very easily. As I hazily recall (not because I was wasted, but because it was a good 5 years ago), something exciting happened. So exciting, in fact, that as she was celebrating, she completely ate shit and fell face first into this VIP seating area. It was hilarious at the time (of course!), but I wish I had a picture of the bruise because it was gnarly. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHJ1bh2b9s_gDWpzNlyKV9Xx3hfmDW1wVplnYO8XMsPzPENhHANno7QObDihIwyFH-3dAp_lSJC5QOy4klhS85J3LiiXrmjbDDUlz9KshZJM-Pm0m-irQEvFLXyhvXc9A8CzMveoYjTyi/s1600-h/kari4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368950248698164338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHJ1bh2b9s_gDWpzNlyKV9Xx3hfmDW1wVplnYO8XMsPzPENhHANno7QObDihIwyFH-3dAp_lSJC5QOy4klhS85J3LiiXrmjbDDUlz9KshZJM-Pm0m-irQEvFLXyhvXc9A8CzMveoYjTyi/s200/kari4.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5KlwkSaC__aDFVo1SObJOqzaILFMGGA-Ql0JQHZcsUVvorODsYfXysyCsXcZzXlHMR1UfMRTtMu-3fUGvlAkdDIEjQDqyl_CjO6ums2xziL2ckc-Q6hHmKdDXNKe-8YEc0vOh7Al1ZKV/s1600-h/kari7.jpg"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzHJ1bh2b9s_gDWpzNlyKV9Xx3hfmDW1wVplnYO8XMsPzPENhHANno7QObDihIwyFH-3dAp_lSJC5QOy4klhS85J3LiiXrmjbDDUlz9KshZJM-Pm0m-irQEvFLXyhvXc9A8CzMveoYjTyi/s1600-h/kari4.jpg"></a> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>So, like I was saying, The Teacher has a lot of friends. And she talked one of her friends into giving the 6 of us a ride home. In a tiny little truck. Don't worry, they had a good time. I rode in the front. Because I am awesome. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaC1yivn45OI6CthjRLFcuGK5zolUtC3f2qZPFKmq0Yp8xMK5pDJxfQLpVBf5YeftO32N8lULDv_aEsTUqv2CsZz6hkjlzJMBDnCpAPfVIavmx28n_FAUR3OScYPzJhaYj0yka6NA5TSjl/s1600-h/kari6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368950259288398882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaC1yivn45OI6CthjRLFcuGK5zolUtC3f2qZPFKmq0Yp8xMK5pDJxfQLpVBf5YeftO32N8lULDv_aEsTUqv2CsZz6hkjlzJMBDnCpAPfVIavmx28n_FAUR3OScYPzJhaYj0yka6NA5TSjl/s200/kari6.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I am fairly certain that the alcohol-consumption continued on into the wee hours of the morning, only to come to a screeching halt when The Teacher yelled at one of her friends, went to slam the door, kicked it when it wouldn't close, and put a giant hole in my bedroom door. That cost her $100 to replace. In addition, someone used the bathtub as a bed (alas, I couldn't find any pictures. They tend to disappear when college students try to lead respectable lives.), and The Teacher regaled us all with a heart-wrenching version of James Blunts' "You're Beautiful." </div><div> </div><div>All in all, it was a successful and memorable weekend, one that I don't think I will ever forget. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Love you Teacher!!</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHh2TUXfjFFWVMvpDNtHJSUB_ZhS-ApmMLEpHVAgOc18C0Uw8Kot7fo4Ajc6lfnHC43buLq3yf-G9lwziLGRgOQHlzi0P-2IpkqynXeiK5XQhsp5lCMaJzbQunvMlrCeWqHSL3b9S6rni/s1600-h/kari8.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368950273533499570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHh2TUXfjFFWVMvpDNtHJSUB_ZhS-ApmMLEpHVAgOc18C0Uw8Kot7fo4Ajc6lfnHC43buLq3yf-G9lwziLGRgOQHlzi0P-2IpkqynXeiK5XQhsp5lCMaJzbQunvMlrCeWqHSL3b9S6rni/s200/kari8.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10946889395824858050noreply@blogger.com0