tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61704177815244312992024-03-04T23:10:52.371-06:00The Way I See ItMiss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.comBlogger195125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-51901856997061757762013-07-18T10:31:00.002-05:002013-07-18T10:31:47.367-05:00Where Have You Been?Where the heck have you been?<br />
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I deactivated my facebook yesterday after deciding to take a break from it. Could be one day, could be seven, could be forever. I don't really know or care. All I do know is that I miss it! I thought I'd be fine without it because I literally go every weekend without touching it, but not using it during the week? IT'S KILLING ME! Not because I'm desperate to see those pictures of the person I haven't talked to in read life since the third grade. Or because I miss whiney updates about life, or the opposite; the people who live seemingly idyllic lives with not a care or worry in the world. <br />
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Nope. <br />
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It's the constant flood of information that I miss. It's only been 24 hours and I've found myself wanting to type countless status updates or message certain people. No big deal. The real freaky thing is that three time already I've found myself on the facebook login screen. No idea how I got there.<br />
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It's strange to find that you do something on autopilot, without even thinking about it. THAT is why I deactivated it. Avoiding it is easy, unless I'm sat at a computer where it's always logged on. All I have to do is click a button and I know that, "Roman is having an OK day, and bought a <strong>Coke Zero</strong> at the gas station. Raise the roof!"<br />
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"He got a <strong>coke zero</strong> again!? Oh, that Roman! Incorrigible!"<br />
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Bonus points if you know that movie.<br />
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I miss facebook not because I "need" it. Not because I'm addicted to that little strange window into lives of friends and strangers. I miss it because it's my go-to break from whatever else I'm doing. And *that* is what this last 24 hours has shown me. <br />
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Now, time to prepare for my super awesome weekend ahead.<br />
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Also, I'm addicted to Pretty Little Liars now. <br />
<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-76262341435895277372012-10-02T16:41:00.002-05:002012-10-02T16:41:59.592-05:00Really.I need to not suck at updating this!Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-85605409089863100182012-08-22T10:12:00.001-05:002012-08-22T10:12:45.495-05:00Things 26, 27, and 28Did I totally forget to blog about meeting Hippie Tom?? I'm so behind!<br />
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<strong>26. Meet a celebrity.</strong><br />
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I met Hippie Tom from 'American Pickers'. I can't believe that I didn't blog about that! I may have to do a make-up post purely about that adventure.<br />
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<strong>27. Enter a writing contest or sweepstakes.</strong><br />
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I entered a 'Memory Contest' for a local restaurant. I submitted my childhood memories of eating there and I WON! I won a $100 gift certificate to that eatery! Guess who didn't need to buy groceries <em>that</em> week? hee hee hee<br />
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<strong>28. Visit the Peshtigo Fire Site.</strong><br />
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If you grew up in the Midwest chances are that you've at least<em> heard</em> of the Peshtigo Fire. My friends and I learned all about it in school. It was clear as the years passed though that the Peshtigo Fire was just a small murmur in the shadow of "The Great Chicago Fire". And that's sad.<br />
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The Peshtigo fire occured on the same day as the fire in Chicago. Odds are that you've probably heard of the Chicago fire and not the Peshtigo fire. That's crazy to me. Here are a few facts for you:<br />
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- The Chicago Fire killed about 250 people.<br />
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- The Peshtigo fire killed between 1,200 to 2,400 people.<br />
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- Extreme drought along with clearing of fields caused the fire in Peshtigo. The death toll is untotalled and so broad because many undocumented people had just arrived in Peshtigo to help clear the land for the railroad.<br />
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- Within about an hour the entire city of Peshtigo (seen on the map below) was wiped out. Winds of up to 150 miles per hour created a cyclone of fire and carried that fire quickly throughout the town.<br />
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- Chicago is more talked about simply because it's a big city and was at that time. Peshtigo was a frontier settlement with only one telegraph line. That line burned in the fire.<br />
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- The Peshtigo fire was put out naturally. They were not prepared for a fire of that magnitude so it burned it's way to the waters of Green Bay.<br />
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- The survivors of the Peshtigo Fire were those who jumped into the river. They spent the entire night in the icy waters as fire burned on every side of them.<br />
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Enough history for today. All that to say that I was at my Family Reunion this weekend and passed the sign for Peshtigo. I couldn't believe it. I wasn't expecting to <em>really</em> get there this year - mostly because there is no way that I'd have a car that could make that trip! I mean, I desperately need new tires so going out of the city I live in is a stretch for me most days. <br />
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At the end of Reunion it was decided that we could make the 30 minute detour to the site; and I'm so glad that we did! I got to cross another thing off the list.<br />
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<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-16133019265870561282012-08-09T11:00:00.002-05:002012-08-09T11:00:46.726-05:00Almost Back in the Saddle, AgainGee, I've really fallen off the horse here; the Blogger horse!<br /><br />I should probably get back to updating more often.<br />
<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-63699790702797777682012-07-03T11:43:00.002-05:002012-07-03T11:43:59.356-05:00Excuse Me While I Attend AAThis Summer has murdered my hair. I don't really even try to understand the ins and outs of the makeup of my hair but I do know it's dry. When I wash it it feels like straw. When I brush it I am in agony from knots. What is a girl to do?<br /><br />Several months ago I did the mayo-mask on my hair. It worked like a champ. I also smelled like a deli sandwich for almost a week straight.<br />
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I was desperate for a deep conditioning that wouldn't leave my hair greasy. I did what any normal person would do, I went down the list of home remedies and settled on "beering" (I just made that term up) my hair. <br />
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Last night I cracked open the lonely bottle of Fat Tire that I had in the back of the fridge and I let it sit for an hour or so in order for it to go flat. I drew myself a warm bath, got halfway through my latest read; <em>The War of Art</em> before washing my hair and prepping for the beer. Midway through my soak I laughed out loud while sipping my glass of moscato; who sips wine before pouring beer in their hair? The thought of the scents coming from my body, coupled with the week long mayo smell last time, convinced me that tomorrow my co-workers would be staging an alcohol intervention for me.<br />
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Back to the task at hand: beer is so gross to me. <em>You may remember my dislike of it from earlier posts.</em> Just the scent of it last night almost made me gag. <br />
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After washing and rinsing my hair I poured an entire bottle of beer over my head and soaked and massaged it through my hair while waiting for the tub to drain. It honestly didn't smell during this process. Thank GOD!<br />
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A few moments later I rinsed it out and was ready for the results.<br />
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MY HAIR WAS SUPER SOFT!!!!!! It brushed so easily. Beer actually worked!<br />
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Weird.<br />
<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-30108850898190224652012-06-22T16:58:00.000-05:002012-06-22T16:59:30.414-05:00Things 22, 23, 24 and 25I am so behind!!!!<br />
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<strong>Road trip to "small town" USA</strong><br />
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A group of friends and I drove to Waterford, WI, where we met and spent the day with Hippie Tom from American Pickers. We spent the afternoon "picking" for treasures on Tom's huge property. I left with a thrown pottery vase, a horseshoe, and paper mache cat head. Oh yeah, baby!<br />
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<strong>Make 3 new friends.</strong><br />
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That's just weird to write about, and I'm not going to identify them in a blog, but I have made three new lovely friends in life already this year. And for that I am grateful.<br />
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<strong>Create an artistic journal</strong><br />
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For a few weeks now I have maintained a "sketch a day" journal. It's been difficult, annoying, fun, and rewarding. It's incredible how much even just a scribbled doodle, when looked back on, can remind me of everything that I was thinking, feeling, and going through that day!<br />
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<strong>Get a pedicure with a friend.</strong><br />
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My sissy and I got our toes done together last weekend! I didn't even realize it was a "thing" till today! Yay!<br />
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Sorry for the shortness, but it's either this or stay behind in my blogging! This is all you get for now.<br />
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I miss you guys though!!!<br />
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Love, hMiss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-43125449622431724842012-05-23T16:25:00.001-05:002012-05-23T16:25:06.591-05:00How YOU doin'?I like to think of myself as somewhat of a hippie. Maybe that's because I grew up on Vietnam War music from Peter, Paul, and Mary. Or maybe it's because my family was too poor to buy more than one <em>Cabbage Patch Kid</em>, so we got the less popular <em>Flower Patch Kids</em>.<br />
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Don't worry, I had a real<em> Cabbage Patch Kid</em>, she was a baby with only a tiny tuft of yarn-like hair. Her name was Jessica. But <em>Flower Patch Kids</em>, I had two. Oh yes, two. Opie and Kelly. They were awesome. We also had the <em>Flower Patch Kid</em> pets, I think. In my memory they were just like the "kids" only they had ears and a tail. <br /><br />I hope that's a real memory and I didn't just make that up. Sounds like something someone on drugs would say. I assure you, that is not the case. I have never tried drugs, nor am I on any at this moment in time. Girl Scouts honor. *raises hand in the air*<br />
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Anyway, I'm <em>sort</em> of a hippie. I like growing things. My joy is making things and caring for my home. I'm a free spirit. But I do wear deoderant.<br />
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Hippie took a whole new meaning today when I was sitting at my desk and my bra broke.<br />
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For some reason "break on through to the other side" started blasted through my brain as panic set in. See, I work with all men. How the heck do you say "Excuse me, my bra just broke, I have to leave for a minute." <br />
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Answer: you don't. It would be just as awkward as saying "Hey, I'm surfing the crimson wave this week guys. Anyone have any extra tampons in their desk?"<br />
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A quick trip to Walmart, with an even quicker selection of a replacement bra, and I was on my way back to work before anyone even knew I'd left.<br />
<br />Only me.<br />
<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-50940797708972298342012-05-22T10:21:00.003-05:002012-05-22T10:21:46.076-05:00Thing 21 -<div style="text-align: left;">
<strong>Run a 5k.</strong></div>
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<em>I'd love to stay, but I really mustache.</em></div>
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Boom! Done.<br />
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Smack in the middle of my stress filled and busy weekend, I did a 5k. At four stations throughout the "run" there were people set up to throw powdered color at you. Fear not, it was basically corn starch, it was easy to dust off; other than the bit that is still stained onto my forehead. So that's awesome. I look like I have an extra set of red "joker" eyebrows. I wear them well. Through out the race we were hit with yellow, then green, then pink, then purple powders, all ending with the color fest at the end. What's the "color fest" you may wonder? Every racer was given their own packet of color: blues, reds, oranges, you name it. At the end of the race every 15 minutes they would count down and everyone would chuck their colors up into the air. It was, just as they dubbed it, "the happiest 5k on the planet"!<br />
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<br /></div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-68805305948002261892012-05-16T12:26:00.001-05:002012-05-16T12:28:10.148-05:00Beautiful Blogger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After having a pretty rough start to this week, I was entirely too happy to find out that I'd received the "Beautiful Blogger Award" from a fellow writer; the <a href="http://literarylilycate.blogspot.com/"><span style="background-color: black; color: #c27ba0;">Literary_Lily_Cate</span></a> ! <br />
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I feel like I should not only thank her but thank all the Little People as well. Sadly, I don't remember their names, but I *do* know that they live in the heating ducts of our houses. I suppose I could thank Thumbelina, the Smurfs, and those little Lego people... <br />
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It appears that it is now my turn to dish out 7 facts about myself and award 7 new peeps the same honor of which was bestowed upon me! Here goes!<br />
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1. I've never smoked a cigarette in my life. Cigars, yes. Cigarettes, no.<br />
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2. I have never owned a "new" car. I probably never will either, and I'm fine with that.<br />
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3. The amount of times I was almost kidnapped, was pursued by men (with intent of marriage), was a bridesmaid in weddings, and spoke at funerals are all just about even in number. I think the last wedding I was in, however, bumped "Bridesmaid" up to the Number 1 spot though, at a total of <strong>four</strong> weddings. <br />
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4. I always dreamed of having 8 children.<br />
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5. I've driven a train. Yes, you read that right, I drove it.<br />
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6. I have never been in love. Incredibly sad, yes, but absolutely true.<br />
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7. I met Chris Farley on my 17th birthday while in Chicago, IL. It was one of the best days of my life.<br />
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And now it's time to pass on the award and to let you guys check out some new blogs!<br />
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Congrats goes out to:<br />
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<a href="http://partgilt-partgold.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Alesa</span></a><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div>
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<a href="http://fancyitalianwords.blogspot.com/" target="post"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">BeeKay </span></a></div>
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<a href="http://mutzielife.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Mutzie</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://steffpeople.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Allison</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://bethanybelisa.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Bethany</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://swissforaday.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Elizabeth</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://letsfallinlove1.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Sarah</span></a></div>
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</div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-24216510032056915202012-05-11T09:52:00.000-05:002012-05-11T09:52:12.070-05:00Thing 20<strong>Try a new local hot spot.</strong><br />
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I live in what, at one point, was known as a small town. It's over 100,000 people now so I think "small town" is a far cry from what we've now become. Having said that, an Irish Pub opened up in my town several years ago. It's possible that from previous posts you may recall that I'm part Irish, and am <strong>very</strong> proud of this fact. It's a travesty that years have passed and I've never stopped in.<br />
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A few weekends ago two of my amigos, which along with me make up the "Grewenow Summit", were in town for a Saturday evening. Through messages and back-and-forth whittling through a list of eatery options, we ended up at this Irish Pub.<br />
<br />
Have I mention how incredibly odd it was that I'd never stopped in prior to this??? The place was hopping with life. There was a party in the back with this little girl dressed like a bride - still don't fully get what that was about. The bar was peppered with mid-twenties to late-thirties, while tables that filled the rest of the place were being used by everyone from babies to Grandparents. There even was a moment of running in to good friends who were also enjoying the atmosphere at a table of their own. It was the "place to be", it seemed.<br />
<br />
Of course I have no pictures because it wasn't until a day or so later that I realized I'd done a "thing"! But rest assured, I'm sold. All of us were well satisfied with our meals and drinks. My pot roast was a thing of beauty; dripping in gravy and line with potatoes and asparagus decorating the edge of my plate. Washed down with a nice cold pear cider.<br />
<br />
Yum.<br />
<br />
I am so hungry right now.<br />
<br />
<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-19138429835756086852012-05-09T16:18:00.003-05:002012-05-09T16:18:43.580-05:00Thing 19<strong>Go to a movie alone. Order popcorn and soda.</strong><br />
<br />
Done and done.<br />
<br />I'm one of those rare people who actually enjoys sitting through films all by my lonesome; this challenge was easy for me. What was NOT easy for me was spending ungodly amounts of money on a medium drink and a junior popcorn!<br />
<br />The movie I saw was "The Lucky One". Gag me, right? I'm a lover of romantic movies, typically NOT those of Nicholas Sparks, however, I gave this one a try. And you know what? I didn't hate it.<br />
<br />
Success.<br />
<br />
I'd post a picture of my ticket stub, but I lost it. I could only find my stub from the re-release of <em>Casablanca</em> on the big screen, which I attended two weeks ago. Now <strong><em>that</em></strong> is a great flick!Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-20486605742754237962012-05-07T16:00:00.003-05:002012-05-07T16:00:55.024-05:00Thing 18<strong>Spend too much money on something you can't<em> really</em> afford but think is fabulous!</strong><br />
<br />
The blog world and I have been a little distant lately so now I'm forced to play a bit of catch-up.<br />
<br />
Like 70% of Americans, I'm currently living paycheck to paycheck. It appears to be my lot in life, so I don't complain about it, I just live with it! I've never been on a "vacation" as most people would view them; as my trips are typically to visit family or friends, not laying on a beach somewhere exotic and beautiful. So when I looked at my year on the calendar and saw that the only "big" thing I had planned was my family reunion, I needed to spend money I didn't have on something that I'd love. Something I'd really look forward to.<br />
<br />
So I did.<br />
<br />
I scrounged and saved, and honestly didn't buy groceries for two weeks, in order to by myself the limited edition Kandee Johnson bag. It's something I loved. It's something I wanted. It's something that took me over a month to GET! <br />
<br />
It was worth it. I am now the proud owner of this very rare bag.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGS50dvw5JPOqxqCUF0Z-dvQHjZRsiVF5umRgLYngofKBsSEbBoVEmGqWo1FpziY97x3V_ClaGJLanRRSqgN0JcRGL2vesErwaf9Fy7VAw90aow-0uXihSngcAREVEekIBJf-dwrftjFQ/s1600/582076_400423609980271_100000379052699_1304511_774571416_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGS50dvw5JPOqxqCUF0Z-dvQHjZRsiVF5umRgLYngofKBsSEbBoVEmGqWo1FpziY97x3V_ClaGJLanRRSqgN0JcRGL2vesErwaf9Fy7VAw90aow-0uXihSngcAREVEekIBJf-dwrftjFQ/s400/582076_400423609980271_100000379052699_1304511_774571416_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />THIS is the highlight of my year!<br /><br />THIS is my fabulous thing. My sister hates it. I adore it.<br />Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-43560522119226297192012-04-23T15:20:00.001-05:002012-04-23T15:20:47.628-05:00Not A FanMaybe I'm not a fan of change. <br />
Perhaps it's just me.<br />
Either way, I'm not convinced that I like (or dislike) this new blogger layout stuff.<br />
<br />
We'll see.<br />
<br />
I'm tired today.<br />
I had McDonalds for lunch and am once again too tired to go grocery shopping in order to *make* something for dinner. That, my Friends, is what is called LAZY.<br />
<br />
Happy Lazy Monday!Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-7253605999648155682012-04-19T16:21:00.000-05:002012-04-19T16:21:33.128-05:00Thing 17<div style="line-height: 150%;"><strong>Get a tattoo</strong><o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Tattoos have always intrigued me. I never thought I'd actually get one, though. When my Mom passed away a few years ago I designed a tattoo that I would one day get. <em>I still haven't gotten it.</em></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">In 2010 I visited my favorite tattoo artist's shop. I was like a kid in a candy store. I bought things, I sat on a couch made from a coffin, I stood inches away from people who were laying there getting tattooed, and I snapped a lot of pictures. It was the highlight of my road trip to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">California</st1:place></st1:state>.</div><div style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfc_0IkB96w5MRph3BcsmtSC63kxQAEDZWdSGcbThdzIPDPL5xCqZUiGb8cTWp1BRM3Lw9Jvxhzx0XZF_DzYX5tehCu4XqVB7Dk9b_xXdUxtuL_dglz4Wu3cx-jUiYvNxo3L3Y85n0Y3U/s1600/32486_126481484041153_100000379052699_217551_3954221_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfc_0IkB96w5MRph3BcsmtSC63kxQAEDZWdSGcbThdzIPDPL5xCqZUiGb8cTWp1BRM3Lw9Jvxhzx0XZF_DzYX5tehCu4XqVB7Dk9b_xXdUxtuL_dglz4Wu3cx-jUiYvNxo3L3Y85n0Y3U/s320/32486_126481484041153_100000379052699_217551_3954221_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(This is me standing outside of High Voltage Tattoos, a.k.a. L.A. Ink in Hollywood, California)</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 150%;">Due to time crunches, my sister and I were unable to schedule tattoos. It was bittersweet.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1eFeBQrnl3YIG1vbY9oOaxevFVxxZZNhWsRxIgxKF-5oDn6rXaX1_KWb8wM7FugOB0g_BtsDqJ_wTJxbszyrN3bGoiyvgNHnosQ0D0DvAOjNl-SW69k1PdgHXls6svfCEiPssvhz6DAQ/s1600/29736_121318724557429_100000379052699_195317_5870914_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1eFeBQrnl3YIG1vbY9oOaxevFVxxZZNhWsRxIgxKF-5oDn6rXaX1_KWb8wM7FugOB0g_BtsDqJ_wTJxbszyrN3bGoiyvgNHnosQ0D0DvAOjNl-SW69k1PdgHXls6svfCEiPssvhz6DAQ/s320/29736_121318724557429_100000379052699_195317_5870914_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Almost 2 years have passed since that road trip and the desire for a significant tattoo has not wained. And so, after loads of planning, searching, scribbling, and asking opinions, last night I finally went and got inked.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOo4cyjew92PW56JELWLMtM-CL0OJ5cHkmOJQxi9Kp46K-D62un-bHnt4Oa4cngi_mQcLJ5ijzE8XBvYyFyLjyN9TdcXJkxrgIiWDAxvJoG4w1zEyL4pUopyRcngas2EQIaUjr1-Wt8s/s1600/156414_393972847292014_100000379052699_1289240_1010623598_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOo4cyjew92PW56JELWLMtM-CL0OJ5cHkmOJQxi9Kp46K-D62un-bHnt4Oa4cngi_mQcLJ5ijzE8XBvYyFyLjyN9TdcXJkxrgIiWDAxvJoG4w1zEyL4pUopyRcngas2EQIaUjr1-Wt8s/s320/156414_393972847292014_100000379052699_1289240_1010623598_n.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">The reason tattoos captivate me is simply because I feel like each one can have such a story to tell. Sure there is the random person at the Fair who regrets that Tweety tattoo they got when they were 17, but overall I find that most of my friends who have tattoos have deep and powerful stories behind them; THAT is what I love.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">My ink is near and very dear to my heart for so many reasons; many of which I will not pour out on the Internet for the world to know. Not now anyway. But in the end I chose a word that sums up my life. It sums up my relationship with God. And dearest of all...it's in my Mom's handwriting. I searched high and low to find this word written by her, and eventually there it was, nestled among pages of memories that she'd written me many years ago.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Everyday I can look at my arm and remember that I must walk by faith, that life on earth is temporary, but it's lived by FAITH! And everyday I get to see the writing of my Mom's; so unique, so beautiful, and so incredibly dear to my heart.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">My tattoo isn't for the world to see, it's for me.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">I love it.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-64443035484204224412012-04-12T17:02:00.001-05:002012-04-13T16:34:40.787-05:00Thing 16<strong>Send a confession to Post Secrets.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFy49cxqYcghlb7i7Ya7rS1JknR33DlYImUjQk_OJ5Gob2KeNbCXzFfDgMu-l5g5VgnPQH2mnNO2DMTTCY6QEaDRYQOFjguIVX542Tt5-lAut4BTKAfM0xVN8nY2879MmY6V_ZcFI2pwI/s1600/PostSecret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFy49cxqYcghlb7i7Ya7rS1JknR33DlYImUjQk_OJ5Gob2KeNbCXzFfDgMu-l5g5VgnPQH2mnNO2DMTTCY6QEaDRYQOFjguIVX542Tt5-lAut4BTKAfM0xVN8nY2879MmY6V_ZcFI2pwI/s400/PostSecret.jpg" width="342" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">To quote the wisest resource ever, Wikipedia, “PostSecret is an ongoing community mail art project, created by Frank Warren, in which people mail their secrets anonymously on a homemade postcard. Select secrets are then posted on the PostSecret website, or used for PostSecret's books or museum exhibits.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’ve followed this ongoing project for many years and even own one or two of their books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it’s a brilliant way of getting to the core of people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll admit, some of them disgust me, but at the same time some of them tug at my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s part of it’s beauty, it’s messy, like life.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Tomorrow the mailman will take away 6 postcards I have created, along with the secrets or confessions I’ve attached, and they will make their way to <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Maryland</st1:place></st1:state>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knows who will see them, where they will stop along the way, or what will eventually happen to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I do know is that I’ve done it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve exposed the depths of my soul on paper and sent it via snail mail to anyone who may find it.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Weird.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">If you'd like to check out their website click <a href="http://www.postsecret.com/">here.</a> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>(Be warned that it can be graphic or offensive at times. Not all the time, but sometimes.)</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-29332422885282150672012-04-09T16:14:00.000-05:002012-04-09T16:14:44.618-05:00Firsts...<div style="line-height: 150%;">I love the innocence of "firsts". First kisses... first crushes... first dates. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn't matter how old you are, there's just something about them that brings you back to being really young. At least, that's what it does to me; back to the pre-teen days. Even chatting with my girl friends when they come home from dates is exciting to me. Times have changed, but first dates always make me feel romantically pulled back to the days of black and white movies, kisses at the drive-in, sweaty hands and all. Things I've never had but I highly romanticize in my mind. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">This blogger is a sucker for romance. I won't lie. Give me a cheesy love story or a romantic comedy and I'm happy, within reason of course. That's why I fall so hard for Television shows where I relate to the girl who wants the guy but never really gets the guy. Or, if she does, it's fleeting. Welcome to my life. I'm just an Angela Chase pining over a Jordan Catalano that I'll never quite have...<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">That's a <em>My So Called Life</em> reference in case you missed it. <o:p></o:p></div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">I am a hopeless romantic; one that knows that relationships take work and commitment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m the girl who’s seen the worst in love and has set high standards for myself so that I will, hopefully, never have to “go there”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result, I’m single, and perhaps doomed with it.</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Even though I’m well out of the running for dating and marriage these days, I still daydream about it…</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">“And then, just like that they were kissing. She didn't know how they got there. She had no idea. The thought of kissing this boy hadn't crossed her mind in years, which was weird, because once upon a time, that was all she ever thought about. And then, just like that, it was over. He coughed, she shuffled her feet... And she laughed to herself. It had been one of those moments, one of those moments where you shuck your status as mere mortal and achieve, however briefly, true greatness. She had shared many such moments with this boy, but now he was leaving and... Nothing would ever be the same again.”</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_dws6ElWBqw7hhie6PsdhNSTEIX4mrsFyJnkGg5IrulTDw6es8jm8Tp2C2FgpTiDhlroBuILAQw7mQztb_5Qr9NvoN8zG5UOct0O66PwXaXpoYaY5RxRhtes9CI8tNvah6LpAGMkrDQ/s1600/DJ-dawson-and-joey-1546296-400-397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_dws6ElWBqw7hhie6PsdhNSTEIX4mrsFyJnkGg5IrulTDw6es8jm8Tp2C2FgpTiDhlroBuILAQw7mQztb_5Qr9NvoN8zG5UOct0O66PwXaXpoYaY5RxRhtes9CI8tNvah6LpAGMkrDQ/s320/DJ-dawson-and-joey-1546296-400-397.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 150%;">I suppose that’s what shows like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dawson’s Creek</i> are for; hopeless romantics who like to look back on the days when life <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seemed</i> like complicated mess of teenaged angst, hormones and awkwardness, but in reality…it was beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Messy, but beautiful just the same.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 150%;">Gone are the days and nights of walking to the basketball courts, or the grocery store to see my crush play ball and bag groceries in his super cute work-enforced bow-tie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those Summer evenings of walking along side him while he walked his bike and we talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Endless conversations late at night while laying on the floor, attached to the phone by a spiral cord that easily wrapped around ones finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Love is so much fun in the start, isn’t it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I wouldn’t give to go back to those days…</div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-34129626953978010692012-04-02T16:45:00.000-05:002012-04-02T16:45:40.724-05:00Another Lame PostA lame post just might be better than no post at all. I'm not entirely sure though. Actually, I don't even have a theme to go off of today, so this may be the perfect opportunity to fall back on my old-school method of listing.<br />
<br />
- I have another cold. This sucks. This wacky weathered season-and-a-half have brought me more colds (and even a flu), than I care for. 1-2 a YEAR is my norm. I've had a form of the flu, and at least 3 colds in the past 6 months. Enough is enough!<br />
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- My house was invaded by smaller plastic containers. There was a sale on them at Menards and I leaped on it. Now, we organize!<br />
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- A co-worker of mine hates my haircut. He hates that I have bangs, therefore, whenever he sees me rocking them he says "I hate your hair". It's a little burst of sunshine (sarcasm heavily intended) in my cloudy day.<br />
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- Archor Farms makes chips flavored "Grilled Cheese and Tomato". They totally taste like creamy tomato soup. I like them.<br />
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- While at Target the other day, I bought a gigantic jug of cheese balls. They aren't really even that great. At any rate, they expire in May. I said, "Hmm, they need to be gone by May huh? I'll take that challenge!" That is honestly the reason that I bought them. Game on, cheese balls.<br />
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- I ate my cheese balls out of a bowl, with a spoon, last night because I didn't want to dirty my hands.<br />
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- Walgreens, I'm coming for you. I need Nyquil and I know you've got it.<br />
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<br />
That'll do pig.Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-89690540458254546172012-03-27T16:26:00.000-05:002012-03-27T16:26:11.537-05:00Drop the Scissors and Walk Away...I can't stop cutting my own hair.<br />
<br />
I just chopped another 5 inches off, on my own.<br />
<br />
This could get ugly.Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-43411544335711020392012-03-23T15:21:00.000-05:002012-03-23T15:21:47.644-05:00Currently Reading...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio02zjsIIaS5kxhyVae7Ld4ERuIaJxVmsmuku62_gKfO9RjcCCN1KGjIaDHe97AIlhZ690Srgxo-1CvFl4CYiLvD4bNphM2HQcM8kcUE2oyyqnb_v1CsvZ6tJDV7YB7Ik46AwEZOIFqxk/s1600/200px-Hunger_games.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio02zjsIIaS5kxhyVae7Ld4ERuIaJxVmsmuku62_gKfO9RjcCCN1KGjIaDHe97AIlhZ690Srgxo-1CvFl4CYiLvD4bNphM2HQcM8kcUE2oyyqnb_v1CsvZ6tJDV7YB7Ik46AwEZOIFqxk/s1600/200px-Hunger_games.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I feel as though blogging would take away from my reading time, and my goal is to read this book by the end of the weekend.<br />
<br />
Wish me luck!Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-22930028805982609292012-03-21T16:50:00.000-05:002012-03-21T16:50:31.855-05:00Moms Just Know Better...<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My Father worked 2<sup>nd</sup> or 3<sup>rd</sup> shift for most of my childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot of the other time he spent drinking, bartending or hanging out with friends and/or family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Dad and I were never close when I was growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Sister was his favorite. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I don’t just say that; ask her, it’s true.</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My oldest Brother and my Dad always had a strained relationship, and then there was me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became the son my Dad never had.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVRfLLOnYygslAxpGSLrK6qobN4cN31ihu51t-07fQzUlufpPXGJPqQT_w0t7BSHJ2BPJ7jppDL8aEp9yzzNxfUuls7HE8RzEjbWXSdgek4beaTP4gyqSSkQGUHoe2YjYKKZXCBZAUAI/s1600/aa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVRfLLOnYygslAxpGSLrK6qobN4cN31ihu51t-07fQzUlufpPXGJPqQT_w0t7BSHJ2BPJ7jppDL8aEp9yzzNxfUuls7HE8RzEjbWXSdgek4beaTP4gyqSSkQGUHoe2YjYKKZXCBZAUAI/s320/aa.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <em>Me, My Dad, and my Sister</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Apparently my Dad was too tall for photos back in the 80s.</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">What I mean by that is that I was tough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where my sister would use a net to pull minnows from the bucket, I’d reach in barehanded, even in my girly outfits, pull out a minnow and stick a hook through its mouth right then and there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was entertaining for all of my Dad’s co-workers and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me, it was probably just a delight to be the center of attention by doing things my Sister could not.</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My Mother raised us for the most part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cared for us, nursed us when we were sick, corrected us when we were out of line, shielded us from my Father when he was drunk, drew with us, crafted with us, and hugged and loved us a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the sake of clarity, my Dad was not a violent drunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They fought, but it was never physical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Mom always made that clear to me; if my Father were to ever have raised a hand in anger towards her, she’d have taken all of us children and left.</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Every Family has its ups and downs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wouldn’t change anything about my childhood; it made me who I am today and I am stronger for it. But there is no denying that my Mom knew me best.</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Three years ago my Mother passed away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was sudden, it was shocking, and it changed my whole life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia and six weeks later I was holding her hand as she took her last breathe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost my Mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost my best friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost the one person who will ever love me that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think about that a lot, being single and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">All that to say, it’s almost become humorous the things that my Mom knew about me that my Dad had no clue about!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great Moms are like that though, aren’t they?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I flip through the recipe book that she made for me many years ago and I smile when I read side notes on recipes saying things like “substitute cream of celery soup for cream of mushroom, because Heidi hates mushrooms!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or “NO ONIONS or Heidi won’t eat it!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Mom knew everything from my birthmarks to the things I wouldn’t eat in Potato Salad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I secretly am convinced she wore a cape under her everyday clothes.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
I’ve come to realize that my Dad knows none of these things about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted, he cannot learn them now because he has short-term memory loss due to sleep-apnea.</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Examples:</div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I hate fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore, of course I hate tuna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And having said that, it should be no surprise that I do not eat tuna salad!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least 4 times in the past 3 years my Dad has left me messages that he has made extra tuna salad so that I could come over and get some to bring home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1.) Gag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>2.) It’s sweet of him to think of me and want to share.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time I politely decline.</div><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I hate meatloaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the singer, ‘cause lord knows that “I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I do not like the food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will make it, I will be around it, but I won’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">choose</i> to eat the stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few weeks ago I stopped over to see my Sister and my Dad was really excited to tell me that he’d made one of my favorites; meatloaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>REALLY? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were you not there during my childhood when I’d be grounded to the table and crying because I wasn’t allowed to leave it until I ate my meatloaf and finished my milk?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*shudders*</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My Dad is great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He makes BBQ Ribs like nobodies business, and those are my absolute FAVORITE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do </i></b>honestly laugh about the little things like tuna salad and meatloaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then I’m forced to wonder, when is he ever going to make me the one piece of furniture that he promised he’d build me…over 20 years ago?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, when will he ever hang up those security lights that he thoughtfully (and I mean that) bought for me 2 Christmas’s ago?</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">There are things that I have never had a Dad to count on for, but then there are other things, like babysitting the cats, that I barely need to mention and he’s there for!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s amusing at times.</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Family values are a little like family vacations -— subject to changeable weather and remembered more fondly with the passage of time. Though it rained all week at the beach, it’s often the momentary rainbows that we remember.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<div align="right" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">LESLIE DREYFOUS, <i>New York Times,</i> Oct. 25, 1992</span></div><div align="right" style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-54230240279184290912012-03-20T17:52:00.000-05:002012-03-20T17:52:22.475-05:00Thing 15<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Change my hair drastically.<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Yesterday I was feeling feisty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> Yesterday I was feeling daring.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Yesterday I cut my own hair.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">After going to the bathroom, at work, I was brushing my hair and chop!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cut it off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only about 2 inches, because what would that matter, my hair is past mid-back on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, I was at work and couldn’t waste time playing salon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In, literally, a moment of madness I pulled a few inches into a ponytail and snipped it off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was horribly uneven, but I didn’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I went back to work.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Later that evening, after arriving home with enough time to shower before my Finance class, I decided to layer it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Standing there, dripping, after my shower, I cut another 2-3 inches off of my hair; following it up by trimming my bangs another 2 inches.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVgdDnRxjQomdMpHHuNy9ATB27GaVxtcL7CS6RkAS0xFioFkRKjg-vKz36-75lP1HEIKK3MJFEO6H89NkWkWFdbvqpMX02jDnrcfuvIwg-Bi9E_T4ry5CmeYzExoE84kfl5UpoExUdFo/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVgdDnRxjQomdMpHHuNy9ATB27GaVxtcL7CS6RkAS0xFioFkRKjg-vKz36-75lP1HEIKK3MJFEO6H89NkWkWFdbvqpMX02jDnrcfuvIwg-Bi9E_T4ry5CmeYzExoE84kfl5UpoExUdFo/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">It was madness.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Why do I do these things?</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In the end, no one else can probably tell what I’ve done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I have such a huge relief!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve not only saved money, but I no longer have split ends!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last time I went for a hair cut was almost a year ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now I’ve got the bug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I now cut my own hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s very empowering.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">You’d think that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>would be my drastic hair change, wouldn’t you?</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Well if so, you’d be wrong.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I hesitate to write this, but I’ve committed myself to doing so now, therefore it’s too late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m keeping you posted on my triumphs and trials during <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">52 Things</i>, and because of that I owe you…</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">This is something I will never post on facebook.</div>This is something I will (probably) never talk about with others in person.<br />
This is something I judge others for doing.<br />
This is something that will shock the crap out of those who know me.<br />
This is something that if my sister reads this, she may never forgive me.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My drastic change…</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’m “poo free”.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Let me explain.</div><o:p> </o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong>1.</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have pretty thick hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair has tangled awfully my entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I use baby detangler at times to help comb through my tresses after swimming, bathing or showering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be terrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Mother used to call it my “rat’s nest”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Winter previous to this one, I bought Aveda Deep Moisturizing Shampoo and Conditioner; they worked wonders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year I went back to buy some and was shocked by the price I had paid, and was unwilling to pay now, for this product.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost 60 bucks for the two?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No way, Jose!</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong>2.</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair has been getting terribly greasy the day after showering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that’s normal, but not for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just meant that I was needing to wash it more often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s probably not surprising that this wasn’t an exciting development in my life, seeing as it can be such a project just to brush it afterwards.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong>3.</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coming up during the Summer is my Family Reunion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We camp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I say “we camp” I really mean it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meaning, there are not facilities of any kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting outside in the hot Summer sun means dang, my hair will be double greasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">All this to say, I finally gave in to something I’ve read a LOT about over the past few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ditching shampoo.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’m a dirty hippie.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">It all started with me researching alternative ways to get moisture back into my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d heard it said dozens of times in beauty magazines throughout my life and mayo, eggs, or olive oil and avocado makes a wonderful hair replenishing mask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the view of saving sixty bucks, I went for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mayonnaise’d my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put mayonnaise in my hair and wrapped it in two plastic grocery bags for a half hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It worked BEYOND my expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair had never been so smooth and brushable!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My excitement was short lived as I spent the entire following day smelling like a sandwich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so nasty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the future, I’d scrub the heck out of my mayo’d hair just to be sure it was ALL out!</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">But this all led to the final decision… the choice to try something that I don’t know of any of my friends doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, my fellow <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">52 Things</i> pal and I, went “poo free”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I just say that I really hate that term, too?</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">For over almost 10 days now I have been shampoo and conditioner free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All in attempts to improve my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And do you know what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love it.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Incredible, I know.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">These are my new friends:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCF5hihPdMLCefL8Rr433p6rEQS0Gz86WcwnQV5UlLQT0lJPtYq7d_zqyxMgsjLtNU1Ls_5AmnFQMXZ37Hr5tzFqZRhoSeWPQx7TjF31ZYw9bruqlA3-Nwft3IzfLDZMzIw7reqImWw8/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCF5hihPdMLCefL8Rr433p6rEQS0Gz86WcwnQV5UlLQT0lJPtYq7d_zqyxMgsjLtNU1Ls_5AmnFQMXZ37Hr5tzFqZRhoSeWPQx7TjF31ZYw9bruqlA3-Nwft3IzfLDZMzIw7reqImWw8/s320/2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><em>Honey, baking soda, rosemary/rosemary water, apple cider vinegar, and water.</em></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Instead of lovely foaming, sweet smelling, shampoo, I mix 1 cup of warm water with 1 tablespoon of baking soda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dump part of it on the crown of my head and massage it into my scalp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then repeat throughout my scalp till it’s gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I rinse.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Instead of, literally, a whole handful of pricey conditioner, I mix: 1 cup water with 1 tablespoon of ACV (apple cider vinegar).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dump it on my head and drench to the ends of my hair with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I then let it sit while I wash, shave and whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I rinse with cold water and am done.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’ve recently begun a trial and error game of mixtures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For scent I’ve added some essential oils to the ACV rinse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were alright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I added almond extract.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn’t work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I boiled rosemary yesterday and used the water for my rinse, I liked that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now I’m adding a teaspoon of honey to my rinse – shaken well into the ACV mix.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">You know what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair is so soft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair is so smooth and has a healthy shine now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve noticed that the “grease” is already stopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair is brushable now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My head feels cleaner than it has in the past, and I’m not kidding you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My head always got itchy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not dandruff itchy, but, product buildup itchy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always felt like I wasn’t getting totally rinsed out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not anymore.</div><br />
I didn’t expect this at all.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I didn’t expect to be using things that would make me judge others as a dirty hippie.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">And my hair, it looks okay…right?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO80LDM8IPivk5Fn-WZ8IkVZiSWTgLl5hGyjtV0Hb1ikGYYc3-3ot_yz9mNkjZgpKxdB3A8Xh4vBQxLOPqnW4vhb95La_YP5LC6yTN16t6OrBr5XO51wxQsC8GRIQaFBDPBwA01opd0g/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO80LDM8IPivk5Fn-WZ8IkVZiSWTgLl5hGyjtV0Hb1ikGYYc3-3ot_yz9mNkjZgpKxdB3A8Xh4vBQxLOPqnW4vhb95La_YP5LC6yTN16t6OrBr5XO51wxQsC8GRIQaFBDPBwA01opd0g/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">So who knows where this will go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t openly talk about it, because, dude, it’s weird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I may just stick with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve already saved so much money just by using things I already have in my home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s working!</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">PROS: </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>healthy chemical-free hair</div><br />
<span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>no product build-up<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>less money</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>less washing of hair (within reason)</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>manageable hair</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>while showering, I actually feel like I’m cleaning my tub instead of messing it up!</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CONS:</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>I miss the smells that I’m used to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hair doesn’t smell bad, at all, but it doesn’t smell like I’m used to – like shampoos etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as a result of it being so clean feeling, I’m less inclined to add products, sprays and perfumes.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>It is undeniably weird.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;">- I miss rich foaming lathers...</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p>So there you have it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t shampoo’d my hair in almost two weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">And I think I like it.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I think that camping will be 100 times easier now.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Happy washing!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>I swear to you that I don't have dreadlocks or bugs crawling through my hair! ;)</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAU3hGXS4qHWOm9DuSzFHIMTP6YPu3b_DHW_ZIqIEpyWLmjNg0jBbm6ZxvrXzs75_bhOsqW8TkExWqsq0B12aqhZksFPoxta8Z_fObHxC6yVRc_2PiJpZaOQVDVs4qFMx1kBvK_yiO-xE/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAU3hGXS4qHWOm9DuSzFHIMTP6YPu3b_DHW_ZIqIEpyWLmjNg0jBbm6ZxvrXzs75_bhOsqW8TkExWqsq0B12aqhZksFPoxta8Z_fObHxC6yVRc_2PiJpZaOQVDVs4qFMx1kBvK_yiO-xE/s320/5.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-90137988954128120432012-03-18T17:45:00.000-05:002012-03-18T17:45:17.695-05:00Thing 14<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Drink a beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I hate beer)<o:p></o:p></b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIdPRDiIIrs9TocXwcZEjwMVXoAdVEfYUZqkhL6sYCcmIAP9dhtAC8NPIeOAoUKj920ObtApnDX3oIKwMPFhXx9d3kOZQuC2TgdeQKo4roXE4lzkR-m4-VXNr2zOJQMAK6MfK1Cy-j9A/s1600/486910_10150748630792119_733522118_11341254_292540778_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIdPRDiIIrs9TocXwcZEjwMVXoAdVEfYUZqkhL6sYCcmIAP9dhtAC8NPIeOAoUKj920ObtApnDX3oIKwMPFhXx9d3kOZQuC2TgdeQKo4roXE4lzkR-m4-VXNr2zOJQMAK6MfK1Cy-j9A/s320/486910_10150748630792119_733522118_11341254_292540778_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day and I am Irish, need I say more?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EGxi3xtgQgZGSUrPFcbV5M4xiw6T5kzXc3yFlY7JY4e-EXQCgwaXymPc3Y7Fyt5bqesaYq9hZz6CNVVFi5E2EN0yycPBWNtYVo3hkdJQF6vpT9srIoI9rX7JDI6QObO3CIEpyxhwTS0/s1600/486910_10150748630802119_733522118_11341255_1134062183_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EGxi3xtgQgZGSUrPFcbV5M4xiw6T5kzXc3yFlY7JY4e-EXQCgwaXymPc3Y7Fyt5bqesaYq9hZz6CNVVFi5E2EN0yycPBWNtYVo3hkdJQF6vpT9srIoI9rX7JDI6QObO3CIEpyxhwTS0/s320/486910_10150748630802119_733522118_11341255_1134062183_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Okay, for sake of this being a <strong><em>blog</em></strong> and all, I’ll say more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For as long as I can remember I have hated beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not that I just “don’t like it”, no, it’s a totally “hate” relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I added it to the list this year thinking that I’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to drink one with my cousin’s during the Superbowl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alas, our team didn’t make it to the Superbowl, therefore, no beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only one out of the four of us likes beer, so dropping it was a relief to say the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I realized, crap, it’s still on my list!<br />
<br />
<st1:place w:st="on">St.</st1:place> Patrick’s Day brought lots of people out to the bar across the street from my Dad’s house, and so I dragged my sister out to meet our good friends and some family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, the fire departments bagpipers were doing a pub crawl and one of the stops was this bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bonus!</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">And so, after I filled up on corned beef, potatoes, carrots, and fresh rolls, I choked down a green beer and chased it with a lovely can of Dr. Pepper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That will most assuredly be the only beer I partake of this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back to hard lemonades, desert wines and shots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, I’m that kind of gal!</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I hope that you enjoyed your weekends... </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqRc13yWSogIHBoCcbgG6WErI6y2IWdCPARkjLrg6TgS3TE7XUQRP0DHLCJhyzSK0UJKg7zc0tdeKHgJ0L8HluR6gOHIxQgkH_vP7I8d4G0lRfQ5o0CEjizTJBCpRe5CMKWll7VcqNUo/s1600/417723_10150748233232119_733522118_11338754_709050904_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqRc13yWSogIHBoCcbgG6WErI6y2IWdCPARkjLrg6TgS3TE7XUQRP0DHLCJhyzSK0UJKg7zc0tdeKHgJ0L8HluR6gOHIxQgkH_vP7I8d4G0lRfQ5o0CEjizTJBCpRe5CMKWll7VcqNUo/s320/417723_10150748233232119_733522118_11338754_709050904_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>...more than I enjoy beer!Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-83886266283696451192012-03-16T06:19:00.001-05:002012-03-16T16:28:00.658-05:00I'm In A Funk...I'm ready for the weekend.<br />
<br />
This blog isn't going to be as whiny as I have <strong>felt</strong> this whole week so don't worry. My Mom would be pissed if I whined. She <u>never</u> allowed that in her house, so we were raised well!<br />
<br />
Let's see, I just spent a decent amount of time reading about being a surrogate Mother. Why not? <em>Someone</em> should get some use out of my lady parts before they rot away. Plus I could make some money and help someone who cannot have their own child... But then again, <strong>I </strong>want kids so it's like an extra stab in the heart isn't it? Bah.<br />
<br />
There is nothing exciting to dish about this week for me. The good news about that is that these moods usually lead me to super productive Saturday cleaning days, and Lord knows I need one BIG time. It's not so much that I've been bitten by the Spring-cleaning bug, as much as it is I just have a lot of JUNK in my house to go through. And now the spiders are coming out. I'd rather tackle this mess now than wait till Winter again because I don't want to see bugs. Thank goodness I have great hunter kitties. Beans and Ivy have been on the lookout already and have (that I have witnessed) murdered several unwanted spiders. Well done, guys.<br />
<br />
Maybe I'll paint something in my yard this weekend, or do some yard work...<br />
<br />
...probably not.<br />
<br />
I am excited to watch <em>My Week With Marilyn</em> tonight though. I've been looking forward to seeing that movie for a long time now.<br />
<br />
Aaaaaaaand, let's end with a quote:<br />
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"I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” <br />
― Maya Angelou<br />
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Happy weekend, Bloggers!Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-73509234749531943122012-03-11T19:56:00.000-05:002012-03-12T17:01:09.290-05:00Things 12 & 13!This adventure was a double whammy!<o:p></o:p> <br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%;">Thing 12: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Be a part of a flash mob.</b></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Flash mobs used to hold an entirely negative connotation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The term “flash mob” was used to describe a quick escalating group of people who typically destroyed things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flash mobs did things like the riots that happened in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">California</st1:place></st1:state> after the O.J. trial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were groups that were hard to control and did great damage as a result.</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">In 2003 that all changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took many years after that to get up and running but I’d guess around 2005-2008 I had my first tastes of flash mobs that were created for entertainment value; the biggest of those being the acting group who randomly froze at 2:30PM in Grand Central Station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw that video and fell in love with flash mobs; particularly the ones involving dance.</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">In 2009 a woman (Staci) and a man (<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Conroe</st1:city></st1:place>) founded an organization called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Flash Mob America</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their first mission: A Michael Jackson Tribute to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Beat It</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometime in 2010 I joined their mailing list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end of last year, my friend, Mel, and I decided that 2012 would be our year to cross “be a part of a flash mob” off our Bucket Lists.</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">March 6, 2012 appeared on their website followed by <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Chicago</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">IL</st1:state></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We signed up and never looked back.</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Flash Mob <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region></st1:place> is an incredibly detailed group; they leave nothing up to chance, and nothing up to blowing their cover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Less than a week before show time we got our assignment info: as vague as possible, with instructions that our dance video (sent as a private link) would be emailed to us only days before the event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And randomly, by awesome luck, <u>my friend was chosen as the mascot</u>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mascot for what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had no clue, but we were SO in!</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">The videos arrived and I spent that Saturday rehearsing and getting the first half down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had instructions to show up at a center for the arts in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city> on Tuesday, the day of the mob, at 8am for dance rehearsal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is all that we knew.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFPBpZlO_61lIHRsqDpFhqIFjPPsSjIB9RcM-Xgf5l8nWTraoI6HetbOQY3r-GF-IZxFvNE4CYeBSInczoXvr2aXJzLspsLvBhO_DXdnPzWXXI7aslGvntJNTrQ8ZWoYfpyvIcYB5MFFA/s1600/431037_10150649396078756_501398755_9025605_2101653680_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFPBpZlO_61lIHRsqDpFhqIFjPPsSjIB9RcM-Xgf5l8nWTraoI6HetbOQY3r-GF-IZxFvNE4CYeBSInczoXvr2aXJzLspsLvBhO_DXdnPzWXXI7aslGvntJNTrQ8ZWoYfpyvIcYB5MFFA/s320/431037_10150649396078756_501398755_9025605_2101653680_n.jpg" width="239" /></a><br />
Monday night, Mel got a call from the producer and found out that she was 1 inch too short to be the mascot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being the wonderful friend that she is, she handed my name over and thus a star was born!<br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%;">8am brought us to the <st1:placename w:st="on">Ruth</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Page</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype> for the Arts in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Chicago</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">IL</st1:state></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only something this exciting would be able to drag us out of bed and onto the road at 5:45AM!</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">For 3 hours we danced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a dream come true.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51yda3_xZDGcPDDgyVblbKb2kb75vczoi1ATrvzdQHIn71EjWiBuoiNBgnxTZpvCHMFIGkn0RTohgENDRxxu0jlu4Mff5nXRuk0UKrs477wCs3jH6K0hqsHhE7X-ZvEtK2EMhUb7-UYw/s1600/426195_10150648710468756_501398755_9023554_1847145990_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51yda3_xZDGcPDDgyVblbKb2kb75vczoi1ATrvzdQHIn71EjWiBuoiNBgnxTZpvCHMFIGkn0RTohgENDRxxu0jlu4Mff5nXRuk0UKrs477wCs3jH6K0hqsHhE7X-ZvEtK2EMhUb7-UYw/s320/426195_10150648710468756_501398755_9023554_1847145990_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">And finally, as I hopped into my Oreo costume, we were given our location and the time (noon) that the business was goin’ down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At noon we would be celebrating Oreo’s 100<sup>th</sup> Birthday party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Michigan Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IN DOWNTOWN <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">CHICAGO</st1:place></st1:city>!!!!!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjsZanQXIZZU0IoZdJJj5In-6Ii3RL3IVRuzLMf3jxXT6zjeGZCG6DVpblp1m965FAk6MMIya91rUlwm2wFG_bmTu_pmR2HhmKD3JBVQq3VPaaJ9vYQBnPg7vW_XqwcbthKinDfxaMp8/s1600/430059_10150649394138756_501398755_9025600_392893439_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjsZanQXIZZU0IoZdJJj5In-6Ii3RL3IVRuzLMf3jxXT6zjeGZCG6DVpblp1m965FAk6MMIya91rUlwm2wFG_bmTu_pmR2HhmKD3JBVQq3VPaaJ9vYQBnPg7vW_XqwcbthKinDfxaMp8/s320/430059_10150649394138756_501398755_9025600_392893439_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%;">It was the most unbelievable day that I have ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and did I mention that my friend and I were hired to stay for 2 or 3 hours?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, we’re getting paid, baby!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t even care if it’s a dollar, I’m getting paid to dance and be the flippin’ Oreo Man – what is more fabulous than that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, AND I’m in like a gazillion pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like a celebrity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mob ended and everyone (dancer-wise) left, and then a swarm of hundreds of people and cameras surrounded me and my “Handler”, Mel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hilarious.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkckgWAb3yRbodJuzDelpNT7w8puSOn0bYHHBtIS9SClxJhz9qOyn_3zJq6h1ZnA98CG89k3eSuvFRuX6JitCcepKrkWZ5RPT3qashNA4UvYCPdRHokU_l0lYTdT7DWOSVC3bUztrh0g/s1600/424173_10150649389198756_501398755_9025595_1439956657_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkckgWAb3yRbodJuzDelpNT7w8puSOn0bYHHBtIS9SClxJhz9qOyn_3zJq6h1ZnA98CG89k3eSuvFRuX6JitCcepKrkWZ5RPT3qashNA4UvYCPdRHokU_l0lYTdT7DWOSVC3bUztrh0g/s320/424173_10150649389198756_501398755_9025595_1439956657_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Mel, Me, and Mitzie, the Producer)</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezDZZ3B0gbEcqNWrYhe9QJ5wgzVc6RdzjCMfDxbX7WtXbaueAirKbK_n3_I77yLuR3gUQ4pCp8qoLXkQ7HJWQTIhJB-2-CdR_-o1lYPrkcIMQ5ZQcvQo35fOH1V6jJkT-fWDCfoSO8yg/s1600/429857_10150649389593756_501398755_9025596_2046990470_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezDZZ3B0gbEcqNWrYhe9QJ5wgzVc6RdzjCMfDxbX7WtXbaueAirKbK_n3_I77yLuR3gUQ4pCp8qoLXkQ7HJWQTIhJB-2-CdR_-o1lYPrkcIMQ5ZQcvQo35fOH1V6jJkT-fWDCfoSO8yg/s320/429857_10150649389593756_501398755_9025596_2046990470_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(this guy worked for oreo, but i like to refer to him as my boyfriend.)</span></div><br />
Did I mention that being a cookie is hard work?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a sauna in that double stuff cookie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus, I’ve never felt so molested in all of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People are so weird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And why are people drunk at noon?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may never get that one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBSxImBq83_97bsDOOPWoD_GsKfr0WRi2XjQnfsZkdY4FYOFnPmiNKxJAvS0YEa1zwbzRujxlxaUwLE2q9b8JFSfvD9zk_QkSxTmgdQlJ-ykeSKqRD_BjyWlYFGLEz8w6539-sXLQwNU/s1600/424815_10150649389003756_501398755_9025594_1387407548_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBSxImBq83_97bsDOOPWoD_GsKfr0WRi2XjQnfsZkdY4FYOFnPmiNKxJAvS0YEa1zwbzRujxlxaUwLE2q9b8JFSfvD9zk_QkSxTmgdQlJ-ykeSKqRD_BjyWlYFGLEz8w6539-sXLQwNU/s320/424815_10150649389003756_501398755_9025594_1387407548_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(can't a cookie get a cab in this town without the paparazzi getting all up in my double stuff?)</span></div><br />
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WORTHY NOTE:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the organizers helped me get into the Oreo suit, in a crammed tent, moments before the mob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had these words of wisdom for me, and I quote, “If anyone gets too physical or starts molesting you, slap the sh#t out of them!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t expect that one!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Stay in character”, is more what I was thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But nope, that was so not the case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best advise ever.<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFa2hH660RTGUB8uiCPl_tSIAPqriLCpDYQ_Yi_F98qFBCv90uQVkQIr1a4eRBhfWOalPi0qhG6J60ThZj-IaHf2XL8EX8j9D1oH7KoQD03SKmCHwYGFu0e0RH94w9qOCemIPNse6eP4/s1600/64860_10150649386343756_501398755_9025587_1109969064_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFa2hH660RTGUB8uiCPl_tSIAPqriLCpDYQ_Yi_F98qFBCv90uQVkQIr1a4eRBhfWOalPi0qhG6J60ThZj-IaHf2XL8EX8j9D1oH7KoQD03SKmCHwYGFu0e0RH94w9qOCemIPNse6eP4/s320/64860_10150649386343756_501398755_9025587_1109969064_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Me and Mel)</span></div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;">Highlights:</div><br />
<span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> -<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Being in a flash mob<br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Dancing in a REAL dance studio in a “big” city</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Working with a for-real producer!</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Being the Oreo cookie</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Seeing the Marilyn Monroe statue in person.</div><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Being on several News Broadcasts</div><br />
<span style="mso-list: Ignore;"> -<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>Getting paid for all of the above!<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bonus:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></b></div><br />
Thing 13: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Learn to Dougie. Record dance video.<o:p></o:p></b><br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%;">One of our other “things” was to learn how to Dougie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep –the Dougie was in the dance that we did!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ha! (See video in previous post)<o:p></o:p></div>Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6170417781524431299.post-84498775235662731702012-03-07T15:27:00.004-06:002012-03-07T15:30:17.454-06:00Preview...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/lRUXuOzVyUg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Just a little preview before my post! ;)Miss Takenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07745613855210883370noreply@blogger.com0