tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91885274374067280992024-02-07T00:32:31.356-06:00The Quarter Life CrisisKBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-79035393791819165622011-09-23T11:22:00.000-05:002011-09-23T11:22:17.367-05:00New Friends<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Having recently relocated I have discovered how hard it is to make new friends in the grown-up world. No dorms to push you together, sororities to join, or classes with people to study with at the library. When I moved here I kept trying to figure out where to meet my new girlfriends. Would they be at the gym? No, too weird. Kay tried that on a girl and she definitely thought Kay was hitting on her. Hmmm….how about the library? Wait, unlike the ones in college, you really can’t strike up conversations there. I was getting desperate and nobody was finding me just sitting at home. I had to become proactive. Here is the true story of how I met my first friend in my new city.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Liv</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">I actually went to high school with Liv, but I’m fairly positive we never spoke. Not because she was mean, but because we were in different years and both participated in competitive sports that took us out of the mix. A few weeks into my new living situation, I went to a baseball game with one of my best friends from high school and a group of 15 crazy men from Wisconsin. In the suite I was relieved to see another girl and went over to talk to her – turns out Liv works for the baseball team and was checking on our suite. Of course the guys had captured her and were attempting to work their drunk Wisconsin moves, but we quickly realized whoa, we kind of know each other. Let’s exchange numbers and maybe see each other again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now this is where it got dicey. In order for me to make my first new friend I had to do what is acceptable in college, but seems unacceptable in the post-grad world: I had to ask her out on a friend date. If you’ve read my earlier post on how I think people should call if they are interested, I have to admit that I texted her. I had low self-confidence and didn’t want rejection over the phone, so I went with the text. We decided on happy hour. Good, there would be alcohol and people watching, aka no awkward silences. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Happy hour went well and I went home excited. Could this be a new friend? We became facebook friends, which I took as a good sign. I decided to make the next move and invited her over to watch my favorite TV show, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bachelorette</i>. She said she’s never watched it but would give it a try. I made margaritas and we got to gossip all night. It was fun and we said we would do again. Then I made a decision, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i> had to make the next friendship move and invite me to something. A few days later I got the invite! She asked me to go with her to the baseball game. I was so excited and yes, still nervous. See, with a guy, if they don’t like you then whatever, you just won’t see them again and you still have your girlfriends. I was in the situation where my girlfriends were hours away and I was sitting at home with my dog. I don’t want to sound desperate, but I wanted someone closer who would go with me to events and watch stupid (but great) shows with me. Could this be the start of a beautiful friendship?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In fact, the baseball game was. We turned <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Bachelorette </i>viewing parties into weekly dates and learned that we both enjoy attending fun events. She loves wine and I love craft beer, so we switch off between them and try restaurants known for both. Over the summer we hit up the foodie event of the year, attempted to befriend an Italian restaurateur (epic fail, we couldn’t get him out of the kitchen), met Marines during Marine Week (see Sex and the City Fleet Week episode to get an idea!), and drank too much wine at the zoo. I credit Liv for helping me get my new job at Perennial Artisan Ales as she found the Beer vs. Wine event that led me to meet the brewery owners! Everything happens for a reason and now, a couple months after meeting, she is Bob’s aunt, one of my closest friends, and my future baby’s godmother. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One of the most important things I have learned since moving here is that nearly everyone wants new friends. For the first few weeks I was going crazy and felt like everyone’s friend groups were full. Slowly, very slowly, I discovered that although some people don’t want to make the effort, a lot of people do! I met another great girlfriend through some guys, a third through a part time job, and recently a brand new one at a very awkward apartment party. The party was not really a party, but we were thrown together and what I got out of the night was a fun girl who likes to go out and wants to meet people. These types of people are everywhere, you just have to keep an open mind and always be ready to make that awkward first step and ask for the friend date. </div><!--EndFragment-->KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-48280481620433291812011-07-30T15:55:00.000-05:002011-07-30T15:55:33.085-05:00Some Have WingsA friend once told me that I was like a wild horse: I ran far and often, and had to be left on my own to come back. That was <i>years</i> before I left to travel to Asia and Europe; I think he was referring to my proclivity to move from group to group, bar to bar, tastes changing with the weather. I believe that part of me, the gypsy soul inside, has only grown with age. I’ve tapped into the true me over the past year and discovered that while some of us have roots, others have wings.<br />
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I’m not sure whom it was that decided we had to stay in one place, have the 2.5 children, a white picket fence and a fancy car to be happy. Why is that part of the American dream? What about those of us who want to explore and discover? I feel like such an outsider dreaming of a life beyond the job, the house and the family. People consider me selfish. How can I be unhappy when I have so much? I think about it everyday and wonder the same thing each night before falling asleep. No answers come to me. I feel like my attempt at growing roots is failing miserably. <br />
<br />
I look at those of my friends who have deep roots and try to understand how they are intrinsically different from me. Is it that they have a large family nearby and feel nowhere would be as good as home? Do they love their fantastic jobs so much that when they smell oysters they simply wonder how they taste, instead of fantasizing about the faraway ocean towns they came from? I’m not asking for luxurious trips to Bali. I can start with my own country and explore the U.S. I would be satisfied contemplating life while staring at the Grand Canyon. I want to dance at the South by Southwest Music Festival. I want to drive down the coastal highway in the Pacific Northwest just to see, smell and hear the ocean. I want to sit and read in the mountains of North Carolina and appreciate the stillness of those forests. Having wings doesn’t mean spending zillions on cruises and private villas. To me it means I need to experience more than living to work. I want to work to live, and live everywhere. <br />
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I don’t want those who love their towns to think I am belittling their own feelings and dreams. I have close friends who want nothing more than the perfect suburban home with the kids and the pets. When I was travelling I was definitely homesick. But I was homesick for people, medium rare steaks and baseball games. I never once thought I needed to get back to a specific location. I wanted to be where my mom and my friends were – it could have been anywhere. So now that I have a Here, I find myself wondering what’s next. I’ve given up on the perfect job. At this moment it doesn’t exist and I have exhausted myself trying to find it. Every failed attempt makes me feel worse inside and wonder more and more what I am trying to do. I do understand that I am lucky. There are people without jobs, without food, and with real illnesses. Is it ok to be selfish? If this is my one life, shouldn’t I get what I want out of it? The scariest thought however is that I am not 100% positive of what I want out of my life. One wrong choice can bring the house of cards down. All I know is that today I am terrified of losing what I have, but also of losing myself.KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-42477002295346974102011-07-20T10:52:00.004-05:002011-07-20T10:53:38.367-05:00DJ Andy Leka & Jolly Good MC @ Life Club<object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F19384001"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F19384001" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/andyleka/andy-leka-jolly-good-mc-at">Andy Leka & Jolly Good mc@life club rimini 18.o7.20.11 (live recording)</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/andyleka">andyleka</a></span>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-39410294105172189422011-07-11T18:24:00.001-05:002011-07-11T18:24:46.752-05:00Productive Days And What I Have Been Up To<div class="MsoNormal">I know everyone has been missing me terribly. I apologize, especially since I think I promised I would not disappear again. I’ll promise again though – I will not disappear again! Please keep reading! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The reason I have been M.I.A. is because I have been doing extremely important things such as missing my best friends, reading by the community pool, cultivating an impressively low-yielding vegetable garden, painting my bedroom, and landing desirable part time jobs in lieu of that all too elusive dream job. I have also taught my 65 lb puppy dog new tricks, such as chew on a stick instead of flip-flops, and bark at everyone. That small child in a wagon could be a robber. Trust no one. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have also learned that the best way to get rid of the Why is Life so Hard Blues is to have a very productive day. The amount of pleasure you will feel after going to 3 grocery stores, baking a cake, cleaning the kitchen, and vacuuming the floors really does make you forget that the reason you have all this time is because you are not working full time, or you do not have a special someone to canoodle with. This past month I have been extremely productive in an effort to remind myself that I am awesome and the job market does not control my happiness. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My puppy is also making me forget my woes from time to time. Before there were record setting temperatures outside, Bob and I would go for walks and I got to see him experience all sorts of new and exciting things. He likes to chase squirrels, but is confused by storm drains. He likes to eat grass, but forgets it makes him sick. Great things like that. Bob also reminds me how happy I should be to be alive. You see he brings me possums and birds as presents. Dead ones. There’s nothing like dead cute animals to make you remember your life is worth something, and it is even better with a margarita. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Painting the bedroom really made me feel like I was a true rockstar. My mom came over to help since I had no idea how to even start painting a room. I had chosen the color of course, but that was as far as I had gotten. Turns out you have to do a base coat and Spackle if needed. Thank the Lord for moms. They have the answers to everything. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have several glamorous part time jobs these days. My favorite, because the people are so much fun, is handing out free shots of American Honey. Now I have been a liquor promo rep for 4 years and I think I have actually seen it all. I have heard all the lines and pride myself on knowing how to handle drunkies. I am now an expert on forcing people to accept honey flavored bourbon shots. In interviews I talk about how I am terribly convincing and extremely personable. No need to mention the late hours or cowgirl get up we wear. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My next favorite job I just started two weeks ago. I work at the fantastically fabulous Pei Wei Asian Diner. As a lover of all things Asian food, I was a bit nervous I would be above their menu. Remember I did eat street food in Vietnam, and even went to a Thai cooking school like Ames from the Bachelorette! However, their food is amazing! The dishes use all of my favorite ingredients and nothing that I am allergic too. Plus the people are nice and the work could not be easier. Keep the place clean and be nice to people. Done and done. I hate a mess and could talk to strangers all day if you let me. I am a natural. <br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When my mind wanders to important questions like, “When will I have enough money to take a vacation to Iceland?” I try to make myself busy. Today I made a batch of pasta sauce and went to the gym. I am also reading Tina Fey’s new book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bossypants</i>, and laughing all the way though it. Seriously, pick up a copy if you need a laugh. She is hilarious as always. I also have a rotating schedule of important phone dates. This morning I got to talk to Kay about her new beau and her wild weekend in Milwaukee. I have tried to distance myself from Facebook stalking because my newsfeed couldn’t update fast enough and I saw the same stories over and over again. That just made me more sad so I waste time with weather websites, stumpleupon.com, and world news. The world news makes me sad most of the time, but I also feel inspired. How can I make the world a better place? If I don’t have a full time job then volunteering here I come. I joined Young Friends of Habitat and am trying to join a local hospital fundraising committee. I will build up my experience whether someone hires me or not! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks for coming back and reading about my life. I have lots of great stories to post and some new friends and their own woes to introduce. Also, everyone applaud for Isabella – she is taking a great new job down in Louisiana! That story to come. Also on deck are stories about Marines, karma, Bob, new boyfriends, new jobs, failed interviews, and online dating. See you soon!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Nju1yP7KxaxBL8gud1Q9WA7sqOTII7LvSVmVtVWPKFYYnQWbkEhze4nQ46Ok-hfjeitKqQb80wPa7IQFmfim6Anvha0zxadGoyh4mFBFuOnZhoREhig7dIhiO_UbzqZ6B9OHyvUnacX0/s1600/bob+with+toys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Nju1yP7KxaxBL8gud1Q9WA7sqOTII7LvSVmVtVWPKFYYnQWbkEhze4nQ46Ok-hfjeitKqQb80wPa7IQFmfim6Anvha0zxadGoyh4mFBFuOnZhoREhig7dIhiO_UbzqZ6B9OHyvUnacX0/s320/bob+with+toys.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob says hi!</td></tr>
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</div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-37009720895101725092011-05-25T13:23:00.001-05:002011-05-25T17:35:46.732-05:00Girls Nights and Man Caves<div class="MsoNormal">Recently I’ve noticed a spike in relationship spats amongst my friends and their significant others. It’s a known fact that more people partake in relationships during winter months, most likely due to the fact that you want someone to cuddle up with while waiting out the blizzards and ice storms. Break-ups soar in the spring when people realize they can go outside again and do things other than drink at a bar and order in pizza. I’ve read about this in Cosmo for years, and now I’m seeing it play out before my very eyes (and Facebook statuses).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have a theory about how to remain attached AND happy during the excitement of Spring Fever: Don’t separate forever, take a night or two off! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m sure there are several women reading this thinking, “I could never leave my baby for an evening with the girls!” and a few guys saying, “But I want to bring my girlfriend to poker night.” I’m guessing these people are far and in between – or have been dating for less than a month. The truth is, we need space. You can still love the hugs out of someone while having a fantastic night out with friends. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am a champion of Girls Nights and the Man Cave. Most people who know me will understand that I need time alone, but that I also want to gossip my socks off about everything from The Bachelorette to secret make-out stories. I learned a long, long time ago that straight men are not the best audience for these conversations. Straight men you are dating usually will entertain mild gossip, or interesting tidbits that involve their friends, but they have their limits. They cannot be the sole ear for every nail polish color you love and favorite Khloe & Lamar moment. Would you want to be the only person they talked to about sports and video games? If so, you are special. I personally have a limited amount of space in my brain for baseball statistics and Xbox game moves. Don’t be selfish – remember that it goes both ways!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One married couple I know designates one night a week for their night out. The husband plays on a sand volleyball team and has plenty of time to swear, drink, remember the good ole days, and vent. She goes out with girlfriends to see a chick flick, drink margaritas and vent. Everyone is happy at the end of the night and there is always something to talk about when they get home. You need an outlet from your sweetie once in awhile, and he or she probably needs one from you too. It doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy each other’s company, in fact many of my friends tell me they realize how much they care about their partner after being away for awhile.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have a few couple friends who have instilled Man Caves in their homes. One room just for the guy to do whatever it is guys do in their own rooms. To me this means leave socks on the floor and play video games. I really don’t care what goes on in there because odds are that it’s what I wouldn’t want going on in my living room. Go for it, knock yourself out, have a great time. I fully support the idea of A Man Cave for Every Man. That should be a show on the Do It Yourself Network. Maybe I’ll pitch that idea and make millions. Don’t steal it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Overall, I think spring means it’s time to get out and do things. Find community calendars and look for interesting events. I love beer festivals and independent movies so I drag people to those. You can join a scuba diving club or learn to basket weave. Possibilities are endless and you can use the time to get out of the house and take a breather from your loved one. Most of the happiest couples I know do a lot of things together, but also have their individual hobbies. Jen’s dad has a tree farm. My mom goes to book club. Be yourself and do what you love! Remember: You can’t miss someone if they are always around!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-6006740952295713242011-05-18T16:19:00.002-05:002011-05-18T16:19:07.675-05:00Technology and the Dating Scene - Remember Real Phone Calls?<div class="MsoNormal">After talking with some friends these past few days I realized something completely obvious: There are too many ways to contact people, and dating is less personal than ever.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me walk you through several methods of contact that people are using these days and how they have complicated the dating scene.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><u>Facebook</u><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">In my opinion Facebook has ruined the dating world. I remember the days before Facebook became huge and guys actually asked for your number and called you. (Texting wasn’t that huge yet either.) I also remember the first time I was asked out over Facebook. I responded back with my phone number and told him to call me and try again. Now however, getting asked out on Facebook is completely normal. A friend told me her little brother asked his date to prom during a Facebook chat. I really don’t think I would have accepted an AOL proposal back in my day, but times are a changing I suppose. I don't even want to talk about inferring everything from the type of girl someone is interested in to how long he dated his last girlfriend through Facebook photos. Say it with me: Facebook stalking ruins lives.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was thinking about Facebook’s affect on relationships due to a discussion I had with a good guy friend of mine last night. Mutual friends set him up on a date with a girl, and they had a great time. He called me and asked when it would be appropriate to Facebook friend her. After an actual in-depth discussion, we decided on the next night or two mornings later. I ran it by another guy friend and he agreed with our plan. Then it hit me: Is when to Facebook the new 3 Days Rule?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><u>Twitter</u><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">If I hear one more story about people flirting over Twitter I may cry. Who does that? Can’t other people read what you are saying? I’m confused. Please stop.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><u>GChat</u><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Gmail is the new AOL as far as I’m concerned. Remember the nights when you pretended to be finishing homework, but actually you were talking to a boy and simultaneously all your friends about what you two were saying? We twenty-somethings are doing that on GChat now. The only difference is we don’t print out the conversations and bring them to school. Now we just email them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know several people who tend to keep their flirting on GChat instead of texting. I understand that you are not supposed to use your phone during business hours so the computer makes a fantastic cover. However, has anyone noticed that you can become obsessed with a person that you talk to all the time online…but then in person it’s a bit awkward? So then my question is: Is it awkward because you created a deep, yet isolated relationship that flounders in real life situations…or is it awkward because you aren’t used to speaking to each other in person and so it’s like meeting them all over again, even though you know their favorite ice cream flavor and most embarrassing high school moment?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><u>BBM/WhatsApp/Skype - Texting</u><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">These are all forms of texting. I will admit it right now; I love to text. I am hooked on texting and prefer it to actual phone calls the majority of the time. Do you know who I do not text? My boyfriend. When I am dating someone I call him most of the time and avoid texting. This is mostly due to the fact that – and this is important – you CANNOT convey tone in a text message. I am at a loss to think of how many arguments my girlfriends and I could have avoided had we actually spoken to our loved ones instead of texting. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Texting makes everything impersonal. It’s like email, but even more instantaneous. You have the ability to tell someone your thoughts right then and there, and I’m going to venture to say that this is usually not the best for relationships. We take out our insecurities and bad moods on loved ones, mostly because they are right there, but also because we know they will forgive us. While I can know that someone is in a bad mood because of something else, reading a message written in the heat of the moment still has an impact. Don’t even get me started on drunk texting. Drunk text fights are probably the leading cause of stress in twenty-something women involved in relationships. I even know people who have broken up though texts. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Why can’t we talk with each other anymore? Where did the romance go?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The generation younger than us faces a strange moment in dating history. They grew up with texting, Facebook and Twitter. They have attention spans of goldfish and think in 130 characters or less. When I coached high school girls their dates asked them to Homecoming via BBM or Facebook Chat. Are they headed for an entire dating career of electronic headaches??? Perhaps the reason myself and my friends have so much trouble is we weren’t born into the technological dating world. Trying to infer tone from text messages, and understanding if he likes you if he Facebooks you after one day or two is just too hard. We remember what it was like to get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actual</i> phone calls after the first date, and so we compare new relationships to those from the past. Now if a friend gets a phone call after a date we all shriek and say, “That is SUCH a good sign!” As in, it’s not exciting he called to ask you out again, it means he likes you enough to forgo Facebook, email, and texting bullshit to speak with you. I’ll go out on a limb and say that if you call someone after a date it means you like them A LOT. Not a little, not like you think you may want to run into them next weekend, like you want them in your life and you are going to make that happen! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Do you love dating with technology, or is it frustrating? I personally like how easy it is to contact someone, but I think it’s made us all over think interactions and undervalue personal contact. My guy friends tell me that if a guy wants to get to know you, he will. He will call and he will find a way to see you in person. He will not GChat you all week and disappear on weekends, and he will not confuse you with Facebook photos. As for us girls, I say we take matters back into our own hands and call the boys who leave us message-less after a great date. What do you think?</div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-4730935198345844992011-05-12T11:15:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:28:04.935-05:00Call Leaders to Stop Hate in Uganda!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">A few days ago I got an email from Avaaz.org asking me to sign their petition against the gay death penalty bill in Uganda. Today I received another email asking for more help. I have copied the email below. If you agree with this mission PLEASE click on the link below and either sign the petition or call your leaders. On the site you can find the number you need to call - no matter what country you are from, Uganda needs your help!</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">***</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>The Uganda gay death penalty bill didn’t pass on Wednesday</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">. But in an unprecedented move, Parliament has bought more time, and will debate it in</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>an emergency session this Friday</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>President Museveni can stop the bill and we have a unique chance to influence him</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">-- today he is being sworn in for another term in office and in the next 24 hours world leaders will send him welcoming messages. Museveni is sensitive to views on his statesmanship, and relies heavily on the support of many governments.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>If our Heads of State tell him that they reject this heinous bill and expect him to step in -- the bill could be scrapped</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>We've done it before</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">-- last year the bill was shelved after a global outcry pushed President Obama to call it 'odious'. Now let's flood our Heads of State with calls urging them to send a clear message to Uganda to drop the bill and protect human rights. This is about life or death for the brave gay activists on the ground, and they deserve our full support.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>We have only 24 hours -- click below to take urgent action now</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.avaaz.org/en/uganda_call_to_stop_homophobia/?cl=1067006559&v=9091" style="color: #147dba;" target="_blank">http://www.avaaz.org/en/<wbr></wbr>uganda_call_to_stop_<wbr></wbr>homophobia/?vl</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>This fight is down to the wire</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">. Wednesday should have been the last day of the current Ugandan Parliament, and throughout the day the bill was taken on and off the agenda. When the religious extremists got it back on, human rights champions countered to get it removed. The Avaaz</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>petition against the bill grew at lightening speeds of nearly 3000 signers a minute and was reported by media all over the world</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">, and our brave friends on the ground, regularly updated members of Parliament on its progress.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">But at 7 PM in Uganda, the Parliament agreed to an extraordinary move -- they pushed the bill into an emergency hearing on Friday. Now it is crunch time.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>If the bill doesn’t come to a vote on Friday, Parliament closes and all unfinished business is scrapped</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">, but if Museveni allows this to be voted in, gay Ugandans could be sent to jail for life and “serial offenders” could be executed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>President Museveni is the one person who can stop this, by either vetoing the bill or pressuring Parliament not to vote on it.</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Our close friend and Ugandan gay rights activist Frank Mugisha just sent us this message: "If this bill passes there is going to be more harassment, and more bashing and violence in the streets. This anti-gay bill will turn Uganda into a police state where we won't even be able to live here without being thrown in jail or hanged. Please help!"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">In the last week over 1.5 million of us have signed the petition calling on Uganda to throw out this bill.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>We can’t stop now</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">-- our best chance to prevent the bill is for</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>world leaders to urgently and forcefully condemn this bill and push Museveni to act. Stand with Frank and call now!</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.avaaz.org/en/uganda_call_to_stop_homophobia/?cl=1067006559&v=9091" style="color: #147dba;" target="_blank">http://www.avaaz.org/en/<wbr></wbr>uganda_call_to_stop_<wbr></wbr>homophobia/?vl</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>All life, no matter what creed, nationality or sexual orientation, is equally precious</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">, and the Avaaz community has consistently stood with activists around the world fighting injustices. We’ve proved that, when hundreds of thousands of us come together in solidarity and with purpose, we have the power to change the world for the better.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>As this fight in Uganda enters its final moments, let’s continue to fight for equality and stand with our courageous friends on the ground</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">With hope and determination,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Alice, Iain, Emma, Morgan, Brianna and the rest of the Avaaz team</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">SOURCES:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Ugandan parliament yet to debate bill that would jail gay people for life</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/may/11/uganda-gay-people" style="color: #147dba;" target="_blank">http://www.guardian.co.uk/<wbr></wbr>world/2011/may/11/uganda-gay-<wbr></wbr>people</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Uganda anti-gay bill stalled after global outcry</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.nowpublic.com/world/uganda-anti-gay-bill-stalled-after-global-outcry" style="color: #147dba;" target="_blank">http://www.nowpublic.com/<wbr></wbr>world/uganda-anti-gay-bill-<wbr></wbr>stalled-after-global-outcry</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Uganda's parliament set to debate anti-gay death penalty bill on May 13, reports Human Rights Watch</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://miamiherald.typepad.com/gaysouthflorida/2011/05/ugandas-parliament-set-to-debate-anti-gay-death-penalty-bill-on-may-13-reports-human-rights-watch.html" style="color: #147dba;" target="_blank">http://miamiherald.typepad.<wbr></wbr>com/gaysouthflorida/2011/05/<wbr></wbr>ugandas-parliament-set-to-<wbr></wbr>debate-anti-gay-death-penalty-<wbr></wbr>bill-on-may-13-reports-human-<wbr></wbr>rights-watch.html </a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Uganda bill dropped for now</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.starobserver.com.au/news/2011/05/11/uganda-bill-dropped-for-now/51849" style="color: #147dba;" target="_blank">http://www.starobserver.com.<wbr></wbr>au/news/2011/05/11/uganda-<wbr></wbr>bill-dropped-for-now/51849</a></span>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-68098040464232724422011-05-11T17:26:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:28:04.781-05:00Interviewing is like Dating<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">A lot has changed since I lasted posted. I am back in the States and very domestic, living with a cat and two dogs. I am currently job searching – great fun during a recession I promise you – and friend searching. The friend searching is more fun, but more on that later. This post is dedicated to the tedious and frustrating experience of job searching.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This last week or so have been harder than I expected. When I was describing my feelings to Marisa I realized that to the uninformed ear, I could be talking about a guy! Hypothesis: Interviewing is like Dating. Let’s check out the evidence….</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Interview/Date 1 – The Booty Call<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">This scenario is reserved for part time gigs. Just like part time boyfriends. I have interviewed for a few jobs recently that pull this move on me. They act all interested when I meet them, give me forms to fill out, and tell me I’ll be on the next schedule. I leave feeling great about myself, and planning the outfit I’ll wear for my first day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then I don’t hear from them for two weeks. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Out of nowhere I get a call asking if I can work this weekend. As in two days from now. One friend once got a call asking her to work that very night. She hadn’t even had training! Sometimes we jump at these offers and rearrange our schedule to show up at the new job. Other times we say we have prior commitments, but could we start next week? Sure, they say, no problem. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then I don’t hear from them for two weeks.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just like the guy or girl who forgets about you, except when their main squeeze is busy, these jobs treat us like booty calls. Sadly, usually I play along and end up working just once in awhile, hoping that I’ll make the regular schedule. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Interview/Date 2 – Who Rejected Whom?<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">I recently interviewed for a job that I knew I did not want. I walked out of the office and thought to myself, there is no way I would end up taking this job if the company offered it to me. Just like a bad date where you run from his car to your apartment door in an attempt to get away as fast as possible. I then had a call for a second interview; I agreed against better judgment because I thought to myself, maybe there will be a chance to transfer to a better position down the road. If you have ever agreed to a doomed second date you will understand why this was a fatal mistake. There are two possible outcomes. Either you will be hopelessly pursued via email, text and Facebook for the next month, or someone will have to awkwardly end it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my situation, I was faced with the obnoxious, Who Rejected Whom Scenario. Despised by everyone on the dating scene, it also occurs in the corporate world. After two interviews and learning that the company was paying mere pennies (I could have made more a year bartending) I told multiple friends I would never work for this company. To my chagrin, the company emailed me saying they had chosen another candidate for the position. Sure, I didn’t want them, but how dare they not want me!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Interview/Date 3 – Love at First Sight….For You<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">This scenario is extremely sad and frustrating. I faced this one last week, as did Brie. We went through multiple rounds of interviews, jumped through several other hoops, and in the end, had good feelings about the companies. Just like that guy or gal you go on several dates with and are feeling like it could really go somewhere!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then - absolute silence. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Both Brie and I attempted to follow up. Last we both heard, the companies would be in touch with us. We waiting for contact and when none came, we called and emailed. We remained professional and did not acting like a love-obsessed teenager. Never heard a peep from these companies. Eventually we took the hint and stopped attempting to make contact. Overall I was pretty upset, not only because I wanted the job, but also because they did not have the courtesy to tell me they hired someone else. I mean the job I didn’t want did! If they were avoiding conflict, they could have simply sent me an email and ignored any responses. Having gone through such an extensive interview process I definitely expected <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>. Anything to tell me that I wasn’t so unimportant they had already forgotten about me. Lesson learned: Call that guy or girl you want to end things with and give them the respect they deserve.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> ***</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">These are the interviewing scenarios. There are several employment scenarios I will write about later, including The Blah Relationship and the coveted, Mutual Love at First Sight. I just needed to get the frustration of bad experiences off my chest and let people know that you are not the only ones getting treated unprofessionally. My only hope is that the perfect job is out there and it is only a matter of time before I share Mutual Love at First Sight with a great company.</div><!--EndFragment-->KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-48269262100631586832011-02-25T04:51:00.000-06:002011-02-25T04:51:07.439-06:00Guest Post<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Road Best Taken</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">By Jacob</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'd hate to be a self-defeatist or pessimist, but for whatever reason, I am faced with this question a lot: How much is too much to fight for the affection of the opposite gender? Is the only love worthwhile that which is almost instantly returned? Do the ends justify the means? That is to say, if it takes three months for your actual soul mate to realize that fact, are those twelve weeks of effort really a problem at all? Picture the classic fork in the road, except both paths are dark and have spooky vegetation.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are two opposing trains of thought in this discussion. One is a more aggressive, independent, and self-confident 'take me or leave me' attitude. We’ll call this the Me Approach. The focus of this philosophy is on Me; my personal satisfaction and pride, and it definitely has its merits. Why fight through thorns and treacherous ground for someone who isn't putting in the same effort? The case could be made that the only people worthwhile in your life, romantically or otherwise, are those that are as equally interested in earning your trust and respect. Trying too hard to earn someone's affection is considered demeaning, demoralizing, and disrespectful of your own self-worth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The other approach, seemingly more romantic, says that love is worth fighting for. This one we’ll call the Us Approach. This premise is based on the rationale that there is a more than reasonable chance that there is an eventual Us to be had, given that one doesn’t give up the fight. This idea has made its way into movies and literature for centuries. Boy meets Girl. Girl dismisses Boy because of a perceived shortcoming. Boy tirelessly charms, schemes, and bares all for Girl. Girl slowly realizes Boy's allure. Lo and behold, at minute 75 or page 237 (of 260), Girl falls in love with Boy. And in spite of, or because of, the very act of his fighting for her despite her misgivings, they do indeed live happily ever after. Most importantly, they are better off for his struggles. As long as we're talking about a reasonable Boy taking reasonable action, and not pressing on despite frequent and intense law enforcement involvement, this is a perfectly viable option.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I cannot decide for the life of me which of these approaches is the best. As in most everything in life, a little bit of both is probably in order. Unfortunately, these two approaches are almost mutually exclusive. Why? Let's compose a scenario. Through whatever means, a bar, a dating site, mutual friends, Boy meets Girl and they have a First Date (duh duh duhhhhh). It goes reasonably well. Girl doesn't want to throw her martini in Boy's face, but neither is she head over heels in anticipation of their next encounter. Seeing that this is the modern world, Boy texts Girl random chatter occasionally. Girl isn’t first to initiate the conversation, she is not especially verbose, but she always responds. There’s even the occasional lol or :) thrown in and come on, that’s got to mean something right? Lets state an assumption that she is coy at best, indifferent at worst. It's a tossup for Boy, does he forge ahead or find the next Girl?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This is where we realize that these two viewpoints are hard to hold equally. Asking Girl on a second date after she hasn't made her own attempts at flirtation breaks Rule #1 of the Me Approach. She hasn't made any effort? Well, goddammit, I'm not going to either. Why exert any further effort when there are plenty of other fish in the sea? But this is rule #1 of the Us Approach. I am interested in this girl and, goddammit, I am going to do this! A second date could work, it’s not like she's actively rejecting my presence, she's just not wildly in love and that is fine for now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Impasse. In retrospect it’s easy to see that each of these approaches has worked for hundreds of thousands of Boys and Girls over the years. Meet any amount of couples at a gathering and you can hear both versions: the I Just Knew He Was the One story and the Listen to What He Did When We Were Dating story. They've also failed plenty of suitors of either gender. While we can imagine the lost possibilities of quitting too soon, we can actually see the futile efforts of an unrequited lover. It's unfortunate that foresight will never be as good as hindsight because a huge leap of faith is necessary, regardless of which dark and spooky path you take at the dating fork.</span><o:p></o:p></div><!--EndFragment-->KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-44513586066082750702011-02-16T00:41:00.000-06:002011-02-16T00:41:48.035-06:00"Prayin" - new song to check outDefinitely not for you techno types, but for those of you who want some lazy rainy day music, here's a great new song from my friend Charlie:<br />
<br />
<object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" data="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/track=3966949252/size=grande3/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB//" height="410" type="text/html" width="300"><param name="movie" value="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/track=3966949252/size=grande3/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB//"><param name="quality" value="high"><param name="allowNetworking" value="always"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="never"><object data="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/track=3966949252/size=grande3/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB//" type="text/html" width="300" height="410"></object></object>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-58166795403876977462011-02-15T05:14:00.000-06:002011-02-15T05:14:28.572-06:00Isabella<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Happy Valentine’s Day! In honor of Paige’s favorite holiday, I’ve decided to dedicate this post to one of my favorite successful relationships. I think everyone has that friend who is part of the perfect couple. For me, it’s Isabella. Her relationship gives me hope, and her stories make me smile. I can’t even be jealous because they are so freaking cute together. For all those single girls out there, or anyone who wants to hear a love story, read on….<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Once upon a time there was a sweet princess named Isabella. She lived in a castle with her parents and little sister, and sometimes worked in the town market. She loved animals and even graduated from college with a degree in Zoology! But then, just for awhile, she couldn’t decide what to do with her life. Should she move to a different kingdom? Should she marry the boy she met at the tavern the other night? There were so many questions to answer, and she just did not know what to do. One boy had courted her earlier, and she had thought maybe she was in love, so when it ended, she was very sad. But as any good princess knows, a painful heartbreak always precedes something wonderful. She patiently waited, and waited, and waited. She met many young men from the kingdom and once, when she was a bit desperate for that good thing to happen, she even kissed a frog. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">One day, Isabella was spending time with her girlfriends in the park. One of her friends had been dating a nice boy from a kingdom not too far away, and was entertaining the group with a story from his last visit. Isabella couldn’t help think how lucky her friend was, and hope that her own good fortune was just around the corner. That young man decided to bring his friends to visit their kingdom, and a party was planned for the next month. Oh how the girls threw themselves into preparations! Some bought new dresses, some played with different hairstyles, and all fantasized about the men they would meet and fall in love with. All but one. Princess Isabella had given up on finding her true love anytime soon. She had thrown herself into work, and some days she forgot to wonder when her Fairy Godmother would deliver her a prince. She got ready with the other girls and helped them look their most beautiful, and when the time came, she walked gracefully into the party looking as she did any other day. The other girls told her she was being foolish, but secretly they envied her because she still was the most beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Isabella had a wonderful time at the party, laughing and dancing with the young men from the neighboring kingdom. One man in particular kept her dance card full, and although she usually liked to spend time with everyone, something inside her kept her dancing in his arms all night. When the music ended and the women were walking slowly towards their carriages, this young man found Isabella in the crowd and slipped a note into her hand. She didn’t dare read it until she was safely in bed for fear of starting rumors amongst her less polite girlfriends. When she finally opened the note, it simply said, “Isabella, please write me” followed by his address in the neighboring kingdom. Oh what she wouldn’t give to be able to talk to him instantly! But because this was once upon a time, she had to contact him the only way possible: by post. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">They spent several weeks writing letters back and forth to one another. Her mother saw the excitement in Isabella’s eyes whenever she heard the ding of the mail arriving. She would open the letter and a smile would play across her face as she took in every word. Eventually she couldn’t take the distance anymore, she felt she had to see him. Her girlfriends organized a weekend trip to the neighboring kingdom, and this time Isabella was as excited as the rest. She brought her most lovely dresses and styled her hair in the most fashionable way. When the carriage arrived in the other kingdom, her stomach felt full of butterflies and she wanted to dance in the street. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Sadly, Isabella’s perfect weekend was not to happen. Her love had become very ill and was unable to attend any of the parties. Isabella was very upset, but because she was a sweet princess, she did not let anyone see her pain. She wanted the other girls to have a good time and enjoy their own suitors. On the last night though, Isabella could bear it no longer, and she slipped into her beloved’s castle. As she was a friend to all animals, some palace guard dogs led her to his sickbed. He was sound asleep, and looked very ill. She cried, thinking that she had finally found her love and was about to lose him. She turned to leave, but before she could stop herself, her heart turned her back around and she planted a soft kiss on his lips. Nothing happened. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Isabella returned to her own kingdom and spent the next few weeks alone in her room, rereading his letters. Her mother eventually came in and asked what had happened on the trip. Had her beloved run off with another girl? Had he been eaten by a dragon? What could be so wrong? Isabella cried, saying she thought he had died because the last time she saw him he was very sick and she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. Her mother held her hand and read her the stories of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty as if Isabella was a young girl. Soon the princess was fast asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">The next morning Isabella woke up and saw it was a beautiful day outside. She told herself that this was a sign; it was time to move on and be happy again. She put on a beautiful dress, tied her hair back, and asked her sister to go for a walk by the pond. As they left the castle, she noticed a parade of horses and carriages coming towards them. The girls stepped to the side to let everyone pass, and as she did, she saw the rider of the first horse. It was her beloved! Their eyes met and he immediately stopped the procession. Without speaking, he jumped off his horse and they ran to meet each other, stopping only when their lips met for their first kiss. </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think we all know how this story ends, but I’ll say it anyway: <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">They lived happily ever after</span></i>. To be fair, there were a few arguments over which kingdom to live in, and the distance was a bit hard, especially when his carriage broke. Fairy tales never include that nonsense though, so I’ll just call this the abridged version. Trust me, they lived happily ever after. <o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-3286445192063066592011-02-10T05:39:00.000-06:002011-02-10T05:39:31.161-06:00Men in Uniform<div class="MsoNormal">This week I attended My Husband’s graduation from Airmen Leadership School. I found myself in a ballroom with easily 150-200 men, all wearing their dress blues. For those of you wondering what that is, here's a pic to give you the idea:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKGV-qnKRlC6f2SIZg_xsVmLd9BfEtPNrvvRqMDcOG_7E1VN8pSmiHRH9O0aNdX8nTkdX92ctLJ7NLhOwyk48TCZ2T93-wDs5IKCWD90MyQkerYRHVlO2XHJVZHEHa-DR34cCjGfL8D1e/s1600/P1000881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKGV-qnKRlC6f2SIZg_xsVmLd9BfEtPNrvvRqMDcOG_7E1VN8pSmiHRH9O0aNdX8nTkdX92ctLJ7NLhOwyk48TCZ2T93-wDs5IKCWD90MyQkerYRHVlO2XHJVZHEHa-DR34cCjGfL8D1e/s320/P1000881.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>More than one of my friends, including Paige and Kate, asked me where they could get one of those guys for Valentine's Day. It occurred to me, we were all under the influence of Men in Uniform (MIU).<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Why do women swoon for an MIU? After a sleepless night, I came up with the following list:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">1.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Women, at least most American women, associate a uniform with the idea of safety. MIU should thank D.A.R.E. for this phenomenon. We are taught from a young age to run to police, trust a firefighter, and listen to our doctors. It’s no wonder our hearts aflutter when we see these guys later in life. For better or worse, we associate the uniform with safety, and safety is always good for a relationship. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">2.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>If a guy is in uniform, it means he has a job. I know I bring up the fact that women are looking for someone with a stable career a lot, but the fact is, women don’t want to date a bum. Subconsciously, we see the uniform and think, “Great, now there is a guy who won’t sit on my couch and just drink beer all day.” From experience, I’m here to tell you that that is not entirely true. What you should think is, “There is a somewhat responsible guy with insurance who can buy me dinner once in awhile.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">3.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>TV only casts yummy actors in MIU parts. Let’s take a look at the evidence:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraph">Shemar Moore (FBI) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Criminal Minds<o:p></o:p></i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvbXJAu_pHYhyDlL9x7rkeJOgbC1nsuDyC7VbTQ3321kJwhz1jcU6DQwlwkHAYh0bBNPUY_B6jDz_JmD2pIoAfcZ4HbKsnhl7fxxxO3jgPs5PdF-gYAfHBhDR3NszzdSASUJKYW8F7Xh_/s1600/Shemar-Moore-criminal-minds-1154625_1082_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvbXJAu_pHYhyDlL9x7rkeJOgbC1nsuDyC7VbTQ3321kJwhz1jcU6DQwlwkHAYh0bBNPUY_B6jDz_JmD2pIoAfcZ4HbKsnhl7fxxxO3jgPs5PdF-gYAfHBhDR3NszzdSASUJKYW8F7Xh_/s320/Shemar-Moore-criminal-minds-1154625_1082_1500.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.fanpop.com/spots/criminal-minds/images/1154625/title/shemar-moore-photo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></span></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraph"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Ben McKenzie (Cop) </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Southland <o:p></o:p></i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6Ex-KXHeHJ2qp5tMtSxZofpLygvejhZsKq07-AfyLC-p2U_kS49QGJVILSL_87JiQRiBfD7G4oB3cS5EiU18GP07FEkSQBEbVJUVSX-hMJllKc_MnJN3BUb9n-AfYD4F1KO3A-RuuUs9/s1600/Southland_McKenzie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6Ex-KXHeHJ2qp5tMtSxZofpLygvejhZsKq07-AfyLC-p2U_kS49QGJVILSL_87JiQRiBfD7G4oB3cS5EiU18GP07FEkSQBEbVJUVSX-hMJllKc_MnJN3BUb9n-AfYD4F1KO3A-RuuUs9/s320/Southland_McKenzie.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.sidereel.com/posts/37943-news-ben-mckenzie-talks-southlands-finale-and-future-featured</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraph"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Scott Foley (Military)</span> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Unit<o:p></o:p></i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8x9ghQ8EoqA6tbBIQFq6tSz3TwlqIQftbUmXXl1syaHoghf5mdg-eCeGjGmjbK1c_gM52lvrBIWqpDqYWh44ovERgRMdQvUPs4AIWE_8Y7LbHnvQy5wO68Pdp1fVSM5MGX1gnEhMNZTY/s1600/scottfoleyblog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8x9ghQ8EoqA6tbBIQFq6tSz3TwlqIQftbUmXXl1syaHoghf5mdg-eCeGjGmjbK1c_gM52lvrBIWqpDqYWh44ovERgRMdQvUPs4AIWE_8Y7LbHnvQy5wO68Pdp1fVSM5MGX1gnEhMNZTY/s320/scottfoleyblog.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://ashesofyou.com/?p=178</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Patrick Dempsy (Doctor)</span> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Grey’s Anatomy<o:p></o:p></i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLzaX8BfO_e-pDQ9YXekSHfY0Ff3zTtealV-y4bm_ppcUQxCMdrhYibtCQum-6FLYPDCC8JgG_WmrnDUmzZ6Rq_h3mHgLD5MAAnQL6Rbxzedj9nyF77Hnu_1Ct67r9u3T4SJzTQXz3Dpx/s1600/greys_anatomy_dempsey_d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLzaX8BfO_e-pDQ9YXekSHfY0Ff3zTtealV-y4bm_ppcUQxCMdrhYibtCQum-6FLYPDCC8JgG_WmrnDUmzZ6Rq_h3mHgLD5MAAnQL6Rbxzedj9nyF77Hnu_1Ct67r9u3T4SJzTQXz3Dpx/s1600/greys_anatomy_dempsey_d.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.myspace.com/designmavenmomma</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Jake Pavelka (Pilot) </span>The Bachelor </o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhf9TBHfmd5pevgE7dtDkKuQyEAFud8EGdQQxcZB2NcUzJAOlziDU_tnS_bRgnEpwvG80rZdzMq2sjBKIaL6dzo3sCzt_Vhn5NGdPvN93y53h_swl-abdUjjbt8Z4nOfVyTSVa_Xcl4Ban/s1600/jake-the-bachelor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhf9TBHfmd5pevgE7dtDkKuQyEAFud8EGdQQxcZB2NcUzJAOlziDU_tnS_bRgnEpwvG80rZdzMq2sjBKIaL6dzo3sCzt_Vhn5NGdPvN93y53h_swl-abdUjjbt8Z4nOfVyTSVa_Xcl4Ban/s320/jake-the-bachelor.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://www.thehollywoodgossip.com/gallery/jake-the-bachelor/</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></i></i></span></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="display: inline !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></i></i></span></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="display: inline !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">George Clooney (Doctor)</span> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E.R.</i></div></i></i></i></i></i></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></i></i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRv0inp4Q3V1FxvSEXyzHVxywTHHmQeVRLSuvjsF2egnPoqqon-ceUZaN-8yctjihBzhfPasQUQ4v5jVVwAlFsMByj4PbjJsEj88PniuivnBbasEi8-BBQacbaibW69ezbpebaZmNdxjNS/s1600/george-clooney-er-225x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRv0inp4Q3V1FxvSEXyzHVxywTHHmQeVRLSuvjsF2egnPoqqon-ceUZaN-8yctjihBzhfPasQUQ4v5jVVwAlFsMByj4PbjJsEj88PniuivnBbasEi8-BBQacbaibW69ezbpebaZmNdxjNS/s1600/george-clooney-er-225x300.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">http://vbuzzblog.freedomblogging.com/2009/01/21/george-clooney-to-return-to-er/3572/</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></i></i></span></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="display: inline !important;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div></i></i></i></i></i></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></i></i></i></i></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">4.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">MIU are usually in some type of perceived danger. Danger = Hot. Now, this is not true day to day. Doctors are not always at the mercy of bombs (Grey’s Anatomy) or tromping through Africa (E.R). I can personally attest to the fact that not every guy in the Air Force is in mortal danger just by showing up to work. The fact is, they could be in danger, more so than those men who work from their Blackberry all day. You don’t hear about a lot of lawyers directly saving lives on the news. But get a glimpse of a fireman walking out of a burning building, and we get a little breathless. Risking his life to save someone else? H O T. I can't explain why. Probably because we assume it means he will risk his life to save ours in the event we meet a terrorist or car jacker. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">5.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">MIU are usually in somewhat good shape. Thank Hollywood for making us believe they are all in great shape, but in reality it is still pretty good. The military makes them do physical fitness tests every now and again, and I’m assuming the S.W.A.T. team and firefighters can’t get too fat since they have to be active in a moment’s notice. And doctor’s? Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but I think I’d trust a portly doctor less than one in some sort of relative good shape. To all the guys reading out there: women like men who are in somewhat good shape. I am not saying you have to be Shemar Moore (</span>swoon<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">) but being healthy does have its benefits. Plus, one of my friends did tell me that she realized she subconsciously was equating a guy’s ability to run around with his dog in the park to his potential to run around with their future children. Just saying.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">To those guys who don’t wear a uniform to work, do not worry. Plenty of girls swoon for suits as well – just ask Barney Stinson. I also struggled with the inclusion of athletes in my list of MIU. Yes, they wear uniforms, and yes, many of them are hot. I don’t know if they inspire the same feelings of safety and fear that cause some sort of chemical riot in our female brains though. However, they do hold jobs, are in great shape, and the media tends to focus on the hotter athletes, even the silver foxes like Brett Favre. I just wish Joe Mauer got more airtime. *Sigh* (Jen, can you get me his autograph?????)</span></div><br />
</i></i></i></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i> <!--StartFragment--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Did I miss anything? Any other reasons you can think of that we drool a little bit over a cute guy in uniform? </span></div><!--EndFragment--> </i></span></i></i>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-74718224680488074352011-02-09T21:45:00.000-06:002011-02-09T21:45:03.427-06:00Glee Cast Chevrolet CommercialDidn't catch the Glee Cast Super Bowl Commercial? Or you loved it and want to watch it over and over again? Here it is! Thank you YouTube!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HkxuakTMQBE" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkxuakTMQBE</span>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-64968464583333304852011-02-09T09:32:00.000-06:002011-02-09T09:32:55.731-06:00Planning a Trip<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">For me, planning a trip is like choosing a college. Everyone went about choosing a college a bit differently, but here’s how I chose mine:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> F</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">un Factor</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">2.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rowing Team willing to give me money/decently good</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">3.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Big enough so I could change my major if needed (which I did multiple times)</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">4.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Good reputation</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">5.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Safe city</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">6.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Distance from home</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">7.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cost (but refer to #2)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Last week I went for a short trip to Prague and Krakow. For those of you wondering what Krakow is, it is a city in Poland. A lot of people go there to visit Auschwitz –Birkenau, and then drink away the feelings that their day trip to Auschwitz brought on within them. I chose these cities the exact same way I chose my university, and I thought it was interesting enough to warrant a blog post. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In 2004 Wisconsin was consistently at the top of the Party Schools rankings. You know what Prague and Krakow are known for? Yep, you guessed it – the nightlife. Upon arrival at the hostels you even get a free beer, so apparently they appreciate day drinking as well. My kind of places! Prague is also known for its beer. Hopefully it is better than Czeckvar, which I used to (try to) sell. Fun Factor is high.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In lieu of finding a rowing team to pay for my trip, I’ll have to fund it myself. Therefore, I’ll mix #2 and #7 and just make it about cost. Although nowhere in Europe is as cheap as Southeast Asia, this is Eastern Europe and not London or Madrid. Recently I discovered that a three-hour train trip from Barcelona to Madrid is $150. The same distance in Italy is about $40, depending on precise locations. Needless to say, the 9 hour, $70 overnight train from Prague to Krakow seemed like quite a steal. Then to hostels. One night in a top hostel during the cold low season is around $15. Yes, I will share a room with 8-12 other people, but that is how you meet life long friends and have incredible nights out. You’ll never be at a loss for company!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Although I will not be changing my major on this trip, I need a city big enough to give me many opportunities for sightseeing, eating, and drinking. Sure, I could pick a city because it has the most bars per capita (wait, what’s that Wisconsin?), but I also need to consider my sightseeing opportunities. I want a nice balance of potential landmarks, museums, historical sights, and of course a UNESCO World Heritage site or two.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Both Prague and Krakow have a good reputation and are relatively safe. Like I’ve told a few people who expressed worry about this trip; if I can travel alone in Thailand for a month, I can handle a week in Eastern Europe. To my great excitement, I’ve also discovered that I know a group of guys heading to Krakow the same weekend. A nice coincidence indeed!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, I had to contemplate the distance from home. Using one of the cheapo airlines here in Europe, I managed to secure a ticket for $30 from Venice to Prague, therefore turning a long train journey into a two-hour plane ride. Although I love myself a good train ride, and I am greatly looking forward to the one from Prague to Krakow, I will concede that it is convenient to hop on a plane in one place, and hop off not too long later at your destination.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I had a wonderful trip to the Czech Republic and Poland, and I'll post my photos and talk about some adventures later this week. In the meantime, I challenge you to think about where you would go if you had an opportunity to travel anywhere. Don't worry about money, it is your dream so you can be a billionaire if you like. Or you can be on a budget, so waste some time playing on hostelworld.com. Whatever floats your boat. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">One last thing - if are in need of some good reading material and would also like laugh on every page, I highly recommend <i>The Ridiculous Race</i> by Steve Hely and Vali Chandrasekaran. It's about two friends who decide to race around the globe in opposite directions, without using planes. If you want a good read, but will forgo the laughter, then read <i>Bel Canto</i> by Anne Patchett. A team of terrorists capture 50 something hostages at a diplomatic party in South America. The book is about the resulting 4 months of hostage/terrorist relationships, and was inspired by the 1996 Japanese Embassy Hostage Crisis in Lima, Peru. It's incredibly well written and is truly as melodramatic as an opera (and that's your only hint!). Happy Reading :)</div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-64345752774230743882011-01-30T13:10:00.000-06:002011-01-30T13:10:22.978-06:00Polar Bears FlirtingIn case you haven't seen this video yet - take 2 minutes of your day to laugh here:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/M_FtPGyMPlU" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="640"></iframe><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_FtPGyMPlU</span><br />
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Hope everyone had a good weekend!KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-81915701841316540772011-01-27T17:47:00.000-06:002011-01-27T17:53:37.600-06:00The Thursday Market<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">Today I fulfilled many American girls’ dream: I bought black, over the knee, Italian leather boots. They are awesome. I bought them at the Sacile market for the equivalent of $50. I had actually been eyeing them for a few weeks now, but they used to be over $100 and to be honest, I have two other pairs of black boots. Not as awesome boots, and not as tall, but they are black boots and these were $100. If I had called Jen, she wouldn’t be able to help me justify that expense. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">So today I walked out of my apartment and entered Shoe Heaven. Our parking lot is turned into Shoe Heaven every Thursday morning and it is the first set of booths I see. I use the word ‘booths’ for lack of a better term…in reality they are vans with tables in front and wares spread out in every direction. The booths in front of the apartment are all shoe booths so I walk out and <i>AHHHH</i> Shoe Heaven. This week I finally walked right up to the beautiful boots and touched them. BAM the shop guy is talking to me in Italian and gesturing at the sign that says Mezzo Prezzo. Yes, believe it or not, that means half price and that means it was my lucky day. I tried on the boots, the guy told me I was beautiful, I checked them out in the mirror, had a mental conversation with Jen wherein she told me they were too amazing to ignore the sale, and handed over the cash. Not a bad way to start the day! Ok, now time to enter the market…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">The Sacile market is actually a travelling market that comes to Sacile on Thursdays. Apparently Mondays are the best, but I can’t catch a train there and I don’t have a car, so I’m relegated to the measly Thursday market outside my apartment. I should tell you that measly means ½ mile + side streets full of anything, and everything you could possibly need. Today I took a mental list of items you could buy and eventually had to give up, but here’s a taste: clothes, shoes, stuffed animals, hats, gloves, scarves, bottle openers, flowers, needles & thread, seafood - cooked and for cooking, fried chicken, fruits & veggies, espresso machines, purses, olives (there’s a cart solely dedicated to olives), underwear, plastic flowers, belts, umbrellas, toys, frying pans, and cheese. Lots of cheese. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWRjPntI3nE-dcXmieOkczBgqkSilol7iCCiNiRWYGT6BBcnxwr1j2S5eIafVHV7md-aqcCgSUws9iaIkcdvUNMNdhl9a5m-erB3i6iqJk3lBbXtBHfapYNAVqvGi9pSDOPS4chMVoI0L/s1600/IMG_0925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWRjPntI3nE-dcXmieOkczBgqkSilol7iCCiNiRWYGT6BBcnxwr1j2S5eIafVHV7md-aqcCgSUws9iaIkcdvUNMNdhl9a5m-erB3i6iqJk3lBbXtBHfapYNAVqvGi9pSDOPS4chMVoI0L/s320/IMG_0925.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">Every week I buy 1 kilo of Clementines for about $3, and sometimes some shrimp if I’m feeling brave. I wait until close to 11 or noon before braving the food carts, any earlier and I have to contend with Italian grannies and their strange shopping carts. Amongst cries of Buongiorno! and lots of kissing, I have to struggle to the front and with no hope of shouting my order in Italian, stand there looking pitiful and confused before someone comes over to take my order. To avoid this, I shop for clothes earlier in the morning, and do the food shopping right before lunch. Since Clementines literally grow on trees here, there are more than enough to come by and waiting doesn’t hurt one bit. I’d like to think I’m beating them at their own game, but I don’t think they know they’re playing one.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">Although the food carts are the best place to listen in on conversations, I tend to stick to the clothing booths so I can try on ridiculous outfits that are in fashion here in Italy. These range from shiny, puffy coats to frilly blouses and outrageous sweater dresses. Be on the lookout, these will be all the rage in America in a year or two if Jersey Shore has anything to say about it. As a side note – they are filming this summer on a beach in Italy! Why is that?…oh because MTV wants to take them back to their roots! Obviously.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">The best part about trying on clothes in the Sacile market is that you have to get into a kidnapper van to do it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYr1Rh_ed9FA3mSCgOA_aGQIbqYV8eWadrzAvL6WaCL8_DGpmPCGRKqGWVl-izU69XZqRmsk6aeY0eRLLBRL83Crqd-qAynCQrsOFC20es7g_LLbATjYpFvTfMcvdi2SWzgddrkMlD8AV/s1600/P1000650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYr1Rh_ed9FA3mSCgOA_aGQIbqYV8eWadrzAvL6WaCL8_DGpmPCGRKqGWVl-izU69XZqRmsk6aeY0eRLLBRL83Crqd-qAynCQrsOFC20es7g_LLbATjYpFvTfMcvdi2SWzgddrkMlD8AV/s320/P1000650.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">The fact that the vans are completely blocked in by a few hundred people and loads of merchandise thankfully keeps the kidnappers at bay. So you jump into the back of the van, rip off your old clothes (oh, did I mention today it was 32F/0C!) and quickly squirm into the hot new outfit you’ll rock Saturday. Wait? Where’s the mirror? Well in some cases the van owner holds it up for your outside the swinging doors and tells you how great you look. In other cases, you must make do with balancing the square mirror on cardboard boxes, or moving it up and down on your body to get the full-length look. This is far from the magic mirror in my Wisconsin apartment. *Sigh*<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">Most days I manage to find something I like and resolve to wear it the upcoming weekend. Two weeks ago I bought an American-appropriate grey sweater dress, last week it was a $5 wool skirt, a pair of gold flats and some leggings. This week I walked away with a sexy top and those oh so wonderful boots. That this shopping takes place outdoors is all right since the city rests at the base of the picturesque snow-capped Alps.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18tvOs4y3EfnVWFeK80YLO2BWPz8eaOpG6e4YIOUcH8cFP1chuac1JTLFzYWuIoG7xF4SKpyOcHOd3hWqdkPsTeejvVWFeKSt-QwQLEteA4TKResuwgPLLI_Eg2FT-TKwtxHhNGWcdf1Q/s1600/P1000651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18tvOs4y3EfnVWFeK80YLO2BWPz8eaOpG6e4YIOUcH8cFP1chuac1JTLFzYWuIoG7xF4SKpyOcHOd3hWqdkPsTeejvVWFeKSt-QwQLEteA4TKResuwgPLLI_Eg2FT-TKwtxHhNGWcdf1Q/s320/P1000651.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times;">While some days are boring here in northern Italy, Thursdays are certainly not. Italian Grannies, strollers wrapped in cellophane, fried chicken, and amazing deals, always make for an interesting morning.</span></div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-9795397041677321972011-01-25T10:18:00.000-06:002011-01-25T10:18:03.596-06:00Parents Are People Too<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">It’s funny that we spend most of our teenage years trying to make our parents realize that we are no longer the kids they taught to ride bikes and build sandcastles. We spend years trying to show them we are adults, that we can make our own decisions thank you and we don’t need any help from you.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Except we do. It takes some of us longer than others to come crawling back, looking for everything from hugs after a breakup to a place to live after being laid off. When I’m upset the first person I call is my mom – something I would never have done 7 years ago when the last thing I wanted to tell her was why my high school boyfriend made me cry. Now I go to her with cooking questions, boy advice, job searches, and Bachelor gossip. And the more I talk to her, the more I’ve realized that she’s not just as mom. She’s a real person too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">That may seem stupid. It’s not like I didn’t know she was human, it’s just that when you are younger your parents are indestructible people with the keys to the car and money for college. You see them live their lives, but you take everything for granted. Just close your eyes for a minute and think back to high school….how often did you think about what they did during their days at work, or what they were doing while you were at a party with your first love? Even my friends who had ridiculously close relationships with their parents really only talked about their own lives with their mom or dad – I can’t think of a single person who sat down and really listened to hopes, fears and dreams of a parent when they were 16. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Recently I’ve talked with my mom and discovered a completely different person than who I lived the majority of my life with. The most surprising thing that I’ve learned? She’s just like me. Now I knew some things, like I knew she loves to travel and cook, but now I see her going out with girlfriends and starting to date again. She calls friends to go out to lunch, goes next door for coffee and game nights, and gossips over email with friends. Sometimes when I call her I catch her out shopping, or about to go to the gym. Sound familiar? When she didn’t have to chauffer me to gymnastics or ballet lessons, it turns out she is interested in other things in life but me. It just occurred to me how selfish I had been. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">She’s now dating and it’s fun to hear her talk about it. She is just like me – throwing herself into new relationships and meeting his friends right away. I’ve always made a point of seeing if I fit in with a boyfriend’s friends and if he fit in with mine. She is cooking for him, I do that too, and she is exploring new restaurants, one of my favorite relationship activities. When I stopped seeing her world through mom-colored glasses, I realized she enjoys the same things I do. The woman I thought would absolutely never ever understand anything about me (circa age 16) probably understands much more than I’ll ever know. She lived a huge life before me and holy wow, it’s exciting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I found out she dated a guy with a motorcycle, and she rode on it. She once sailed the Greek Isles with a guy and dumped him the moment they got back to dry land. She was married long before she had me, and there’s still an unknown story there about why she hates skiing. She went to beach parties. She was there for the Kent State shootings. She remembers when JFK was shot and saw Jerry Garcia perform live. I am just a character introduced in a later chapter of her life – I like to think a very exciting chapter – and now she is starting to write a new one. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’m not sure where I read it, but I saw something recently about activities to do in your 20’s. One of the things on the list was get to know your parents as real people. Remove yourself from the equation, and perhaps even their spouses. Talk to them about married life before kids, about life before marriage, and perhaps even their own first heartbreaks. While they get to see us grow up and experience a million new things, we hardly ever seem to know the back-story of our own roots. Don’t wait until it’s too late to get to you know parents as real people. You might be pleasantly surprised. </span></div><!--EndFragment-->KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-45941518676286547002011-01-23T07:15:00.000-06:002011-01-23T07:15:47.546-06:00Visiting the Temples of Angkor<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Once again, I am suffering from a massive hangover. I am much too lazy to type up a new post, and yes, I realize I have been neglecting the blog. I promise to make it up to my loyal readers next week. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So because last night was an epic dance-a-thon, I am going to post a journal entry from my visit to Siem Reap. There are days when I am homesick for the states, and there are days when I am homesick for Southeast Asia. Today all I want is a fresh mango shake. Oh god, I can almost taste it. But before I launch into my thoughts on the temples of Angkor, I thought I would share this photo from last night:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9-ZF1v-0Rtf12qJyzyy7NUYOiODWCkrz5jP6NWf7FzGZzf1P2-RrEPwdNVC9roWWy5qXox_2vLxr6G3ywxDgOmVyjDDpZxwqKsHJHD3XZFt9a2q0xILuL4Yjpn-lYo3CZwifA7f6ofrg/s1600/P1000677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9-ZF1v-0Rtf12qJyzyy7NUYOiODWCkrz5jP6NWf7FzGZzf1P2-RrEPwdNVC9roWWy5qXox_2vLxr6G3ywxDgOmVyjDDpZxwqKsHJHD3XZFt9a2q0xILuL4Yjpn-lYo3CZwifA7f6ofrg/s320/P1000677.JPG" width="205" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Yeah, I don't know either. But as you can see, it was a great time. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So on to Cambodia....</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We spent three days seeing the temples of Siem Reap, spending hours walking up and down stairs in the hot sun to discover their magic. We saw 19 temples or so and most of them were pretty incredible. Some were better kept than others, but each was a beautiful reminder of the empire that once was.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">First we went to Pre Rup on our way out to the popular Banteay Srei. It was beautiful and since it was our first temple, I thought it was huge. Later on I would compare it to Angkor Wat and Beng Mealea which were truly gigantic but at the moment, as our first Cambodian temple, it loomed above us. Since it was early there were just a few people around and my friend was able to get photos without tourists interfering. He will sometimes wait 10-15 minutes for people to move out of the way so he can take a picture. Unfortunately, in busy temples having a tourist-free shot was tough to achieve. Eventually a bus of Americans arrived and did block his photos for long enough that he gave up and we headed onto Banteay Srei.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Banteay Srei was crawling with tourists and my friend had to give up and allow some people in his photos, or had to zoom in on the amazing detailed carvings. I wandered around just taking it all in. What was left of the temple were walls covered with intricate carvings of lions, women, snakes, lotus hands, etc. I was blown away by the attention to detail as well as how well preserved it was for being hundreds of years old. Unfortunately that is when it started to get hot again and I started to sweat in my temple get up of tshirt and pants. They were loose pants, almost gauchos if you remember that fad, but it was still a bit much for 90+ weather. On our way out some Asian tourists grabbed us for photos (they love taking pictures with pale people....it's so weird. What happens to the photos when they get back? Are we up on facebook with all these people with their friends commenting on them?)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our next stop was my idea. I had read in Lonely Planet that you can see Phnom Bok if you are out the direction of Banteay Srei and since I wanted to be helpful I pointed the blurb out and suggested we visit. We asked our tuk-tuk driver to go there next and should have sensed the obscurity of the place when he told us he had never been there before. We kept on though and soon arrived at the bottom of what I would say was larger than a hill, but a bit too small to be called a proper mini-mountain. Didn't look too daunting and hey, Lonely Planet didn't say anything like, "Beware, this may kill you," so up we went. As we started climbing up temple prayers started blasting over a loudspeaker and we were still thinking this was going to be a normal temple visit. But wait, what's this? We turned the corner to see the longest, tallest, highest set of stairs I have ever seen in my life. At that point I laughed - because I still had no idea what we were in for here. About halfway up we were both literally dripping wet and we had to stop to take a few rests before we reached the top. We sat for a bit and looked at this pillar, all the while I was thinking "This is what we climbed those stairs to see???" Fortunately we caught sight of some other ruins just a few more meters up so we headed for those.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Have you ever read The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis? It's the first book in the Chronicles of Narnia series and it begins with the main character somehow landing in this magical other land of quiet ruins. Of course a bad witch shows up a few minutes later but that scene C.S. Lewis describes could have been written about Phnom Bok. They looked like something out of a movie: crumbling towers, pillars at strange angles, carvings barely visible, sloped steps and giant trees growing out of the whole lot. If taking in Bataad from the viewpoint was like sitting on the edge of a postcard, then exploring Phnom Bok was like being transported into a novel where mythical creatures existed and anything could happen at any moment.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Before we headed down the mountain my friend and I played the jelly bean guessing game. Think back to third grade when your teacher had those jars of candy corn and jelly beans and everyone in the class got to guess how many pieces of candy were in the jar. The person who was the closest won the whole jar and took home the candy. I never won at those but I figured at least this time I had a 50/50 chance of beating my friend. He guessed there were 550 stairs and I said 620. I'm not kidding, there were A LOT of stairs! And we had climbed all of them in the blazing hot Cambodian sun! Anyway, guess how many stairs there were? 628. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;">(as a side note...I later climbed Adam's Peak in Sri Lanka which has something like 4000 steps so at this point, I really had no idea)</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We saw 5 more temples after that: Banteay Samre, Eastern Mebon, Preah Khan, Preah Neak Pean and Ta Som. Bateay Samre was nice but I wish there had still been a moat like there was when it was built. It would have made it even more impressive - plus it would have been fun to walk over a moat. I really enjoyed Eastern Mebon because of the elephant statues posted on every corner. I was really hot and disgusting though which was starting to make me a bit crabby; not to mention exhausted from the 7am start time and all day in the blazing sun. We carried on to the next three temples where I discovered Ta Som was to be one of my favorites.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ta Som was a jungly temple with giant trees growing out of the ruins. Unlike Phomh Bok though, it was shaded by nature and in a bit better repair than the mountain temple. This was the first temple we saw with the large faces carved into the entrances. These temples are incredibly impressive, even though nature has clearly won the forever battle.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoD2oIhN6T7L9UNjogOHivcJENsUpyMj7f949v6X9eVaH6IagaKDhcP8xmcxYFw0uIdcFvK5ZN0boVcjVL84MXhiwnWdHEWgBx0FoU641X7ziFr-fEKBHk_2TH3_ELTLzZG_gl5GPQfXjm/s1600/ta+som+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoD2oIhN6T7L9UNjogOHivcJENsUpyMj7f949v6X9eVaH6IagaKDhcP8xmcxYFw0uIdcFvK5ZN0boVcjVL84MXhiwnWdHEWgBx0FoU641X7ziFr-fEKBHk_2TH3_ELTLzZG_gl5GPQfXjm/s320/ta+som+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo79qwMhGJJmnHsNkPDN4jFDEFSYQlBtiDGqQZE7R69WN2QBIqhmD56OGu3HVtdxDUrBpeJuJWtaXtUjMMuintKdMx5ykK6DigtYc_lf1EymjspmyS2ArKUX5BkoWdRX2h1rRA4cC8JtRd/s1600/justin+ta+prohm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo79qwMhGJJmnHsNkPDN4jFDEFSYQlBtiDGqQZE7R69WN2QBIqhmD56OGu3HVtdxDUrBpeJuJWtaXtUjMMuintKdMx5ykK6DigtYc_lf1EymjspmyS2ArKUX5BkoWdRX2h1rRA4cC8JtRd/s320/justin+ta+prohm.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">When we returned home to the Golden Banana (our wonderful hotel) all we wanted to do was slide into the pool and rest our tired feet for a bit. I was also starving from the kcals I burned but barely had the energy to eat. We had been relaxing for so long in Vietnam that I hardly remembered how exhausting sightseeing can be!</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We began our second day with the heaviest of heavy hitters: Angkor Wat. As a disclaimer: </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">Any description I write will not do it justice...so I'm not going to try.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">It was absolutely breathtaking and more than I could ever have imagined. From the moment the tuk-tuk drove by part of it to drop us off at the entrance, I was entranced. It is increadibly wide and then you have to walk what seems like the length of a football field to get to the entrance. Once there you walk through an archway and are again faced with a huge expanse to traverse in order to get to the actual temple. And the temple is HUGE. I think photos illustrate this better than words. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXm1AGEOyJIEvt9vkR5CB6eszbAevwHvujSncKq9LTw6dTk5trCRjQkUYXU85RjP8F5OHb6sD6miPuPWNKRPdlmZ9IWLMQbv-pu4n9M8MmyNVAX2v3o1H_9fi8PODSO7KMmf4rW5e1W4jo/s1600/angkor+wat+justin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXm1AGEOyJIEvt9vkR5CB6eszbAevwHvujSncKq9LTw6dTk5trCRjQkUYXU85RjP8F5OHb6sD6miPuPWNKRPdlmZ9IWLMQbv-pu4n9M8MmyNVAX2v3o1H_9fi8PODSO7KMmf4rW5e1W4jo/s320/angkor+wat+justin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpQZl6cTZRiniN1rdGtv3AoPzU_YxeZzrdamsWVhuLdio3M0LKAHO1VCe0daUJFkjZB56oVU9yUsCWFUiJRG7irM374Qq-x2g84BoPN5eWkLTMDrKZzyDoJPiKk_0XRILHbkMc_NSytrm/s1600/angkor+wat+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRpQZl6cTZRiniN1rdGtv3AoPzU_YxeZzrdamsWVhuLdio3M0LKAHO1VCe0daUJFkjZB56oVU9yUsCWFUiJRG7irM374Qq-x2g84BoPN5eWkLTMDrKZzyDoJPiKk_0XRILHbkMc_NSytrm/s320/angkor+wat+wall.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look closely you can see my friend posing...this is just one of Angkor's inner walls</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcNsUIXE08QI5H_6ibTtGenuUJ4wel8oJeh_XP8n40c5CJMrknvK4dhwSesT13ncV1T0tcaUDda7Zt39ynAWOCTdlYhrj9cOswruUYKzMP6DLHP_oeYrzrugEMp9gZ7WbRGAu8DTwKQkp/s1600/me+at+angkor+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcNsUIXE08QI5H_6ibTtGenuUJ4wel8oJeh_XP8n40c5CJMrknvK4dhwSesT13ncV1T0tcaUDda7Zt39ynAWOCTdlYhrj9cOswruUYKzMP6DLHP_oeYrzrugEMp9gZ7WbRGAu8DTwKQkp/s320/me+at+angkor+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">In my journal I wrote a lot, A LOT, more about Angkor Wat. However, I felt this was already way too long and that those of you who are still reading probably are waiting for me to get on with it. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Banteay Kdei and Sr Srang were our next stops. Banteay Kdei was another temple that I doubt people will be able to climb around wherever for much longer. It had a mysterious air about it and all the collapsed areas allowed for interesting photos. Apparently it was hastily constructed those hundreds of years ago which accounts for the severe damage it's suffered. I enjoyed that one a lot as it felt like no matter which way you walked there were more pathways and hallways as if it was a neverending maze. I had a fleeting thought about playing hide and seek there, but figured it would take much too long to find anyone.<br />
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Ta Prohm was our next stop. This temple was used in Angelina Jolie's famous movie, Laura Croft: Tomb Raider. Because of it's fame it was being restored, but unfortunately it also had walkways and wood stairs everywhere that you had to follow. This was the one temple we couldn't just hop around anywhere. Unfortunately the walkways interfered with some great photo possibilities in two ways. The most obvious was that the wood entered the picture and that took away from the ancient stones and jungle crawling over them. The second problem was that the walkways set up photo ops - so in areas where serious photographers were trying to get shots of the temple, other tourists were taking group shots in front of the most interesting parts. It definitely took away from the air of ancient wonder that could have permeated every part of Ta Prohm.<br />
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Our tuk-tuk driver drove us back to Angkor Thom (the huge enclosure that holds several of the sights and is surrounded by a long low wall with entryways marked by huge stone guards) and let us out at the Terrace of the Elephants. We walked around and admired the wall that held more intricate carvings until we couldn't take it anymore and went in search of water. It was quite ironic - most of the day we had to fend off children selling trinkets, young men selling bootleg books and dvds and women competing to sell us cold water. Now when we needed it most we had to seek out one of these women. We crossed the road to where several stalls were set up and only one woman ran over to us, "Cold water?" she asked. Without a word I started nodding and she laughed. We must have looked horrible - dripping sweat, hadn't eaten all day, exhausted and practically begging for water. The going rate is 1.5 liters for $1, which we gladly paid and sat down for a few minutes. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
After a brief rest we walked along the Terrace of the Leper King before heading into Bayon. Bayon is an amazing temple built in the 12th century with something like 200 faces carved into the many towers. Even compared to Angkor Wat, Bayon was my favorite temple in Siem Reap.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZ6CYNsfV581OWsFEh-M7ohONj6BoNsVDspkKq3513lefjxKnVErosK_pfrH0ZQXJAs5jdjIGMtz2SpEQulLZ2K7By4CIYbGbXc_wp-pgyEUjcHTczDxfQeL2EZn_MpEOiP_NfGjoEy0V/s1600/Bayon+and+me+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZ6CYNsfV581OWsFEh-M7ohONj6BoNsVDspkKq3513lefjxKnVErosK_pfrH0ZQXJAs5jdjIGMtz2SpEQulLZ2K7By4CIYbGbXc_wp-pgyEUjcHTczDxfQeL2EZn_MpEOiP_NfGjoEy0V/s320/Bayon+and+me+copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Bayon is truly wonderful and is very hard to describe. Everywhere you walk is something even more exciting to look at and again, you're able to climb on anything you want. My friend was also very happy because he is on a perpetual "Monk Hunt." This is what I call his desire to have Buddhist monks, draped in bright orange or red cloth, in his photographs.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqjFycstAYcERkdwJBy_D4lE4_v67594GLU_o2qXM-ITSf13zN8UPpyqbBfr0IQTGoS-McX3fU14lrDOa9GGVbJoWvLecYe1_-IYmf8x1p8riHEVbpp2hg5WtPLrdHyqscczspIykCmyJ/s1600/monk+hunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqjFycstAYcERkdwJBy_D4lE4_v67594GLU_o2qXM-ITSf13zN8UPpyqbBfr0IQTGoS-McX3fU14lrDOa9GGVbJoWvLecYe1_-IYmf8x1p8riHEVbpp2hg5WtPLrdHyqscczspIykCmyJ/s320/monk+hunt.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">As you can see, it was his lucky day as there were several wandering around in Bayon. He managed to get several photos with these unsuspecting men (or do they know people are constantly trying to get them in the frame?) exploring the temple. Unfortunately we had to leave eventually, so sadly we walked down the steps and out to our tuk-tuk driver who would take us back to the Golden Banana and our lovely swimming pool.</span>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-41757891581071990062011-01-18T07:27:00.000-06:002011-01-18T07:27:34.132-06:00Temporary Escape<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Some days being in my QLC is an all encompassing situation. No matter what I do, I negative thoughts plague me from the moment I wake up to the moment I go back to sleep. What am I doing? Why aren’t I happy? What does make me happy? Why am I missing my best friend’s birthday?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes things in life are hard to deal with, and to cope we change memories and escape into fantasy. One of the things I do when life is hard is lose myself in a good book. For the amount of time I’m reading, I find myself lost in a different world with new acquaintances and other people’s problems to face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The only ones who will really understand what I mean are other true readers. I have friends who pick up books once in awhile on the plane if they have to, and I’m not going to judge those who grab gossip magazines instead. Anyone who knows me knows I just love celebrity gossip. And I won’t judge those people who sit and zone out on TV reruns, as I have certainly done that as well. Of course now I’ve seen all of the Law and Order episodes, as well as Monk, Friends, Will and Grace, and How I Met Your Mother. So I’m kind of out of marathons at the moment. But in reality, my whole life I have lost myself in books. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are the stories you stay up all night to finish, and the ones you wish you could bring to the dinner table and keep reading, if only you were still young enough to justify that behavior. I clearly remember staying up into the early hours around third grade or so, becoming intent of finishing </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Dollhouse Murders</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. Now that was a creepy book. There are other books I remember not being able to put down when younger, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Blitz Cat</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Shade’s Children</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, and the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. I actually still read </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Shade’s Children</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, and a good friend of mine from high school would attest to the fact that it is totally scary and unputdownable. Yes, that’s a word.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When I was traveling throughout Southeast Asia I turned into an even more fanatical reader. At first it began as a way to cope with the complete and utter boredom of waiting hours for buses or surviving overnight train rides. I didn’t want to finish the books too quickly though, as finding English language books could be tricky, and expensive, in certain areas. Some books I was forced to read because my options were the not-so-great-English-book or the book-I-had-always-wanted-to-read, but it was printed in German. Or French. I ran into so many copies of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Chasing Harry Winston </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">in foreign languages I was going crazy. Now that I think about it, I never did read it after I returned to the States. I guess I gave up and let that one go. However, I did find some amazing books that I devoured on long bus rides in cramped quarters, or lazing on the sunny beaches of Thailand. I read Bryce Courtenay’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Persimmon Tree</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> in a matter of days (great love story set during WWII), discovered </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, and am still completely terrified of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Frank Schätzing’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Swarm</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I read everything from fabulous fiction like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Brick Lane</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, to the scary historical fiction of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Historian</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I found a great new author in Theresa Rebeck with </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Three Girls and Their Brother</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, which I traded for a tough, but rewarding read, in Eric Weiner’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Geography of Bliss</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. These books helped carry me through the days when I was homesick, physically ill, and certainly lonely. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In the Quarter Life Crisis all of these moods can strike. You can live a mile away from where you grew up and find yourself homesick for those high school days when everything made so much sense. I still find myself longing for sleepovers with endless laughter and the chance to decorate a friend’s locker for her birthday. Life was easy, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time, and you couldn’t wait to move on to the next chapter. Who wasn’t excited to leave for college? Of course once you were there it eventually ended as well. And now look where we are - wishing for football games and a cold day to skip class and eat Shirley’s grilled cheese dipped in tomato soup. Homesick doesn’t necessarily mean you want to be sleeping in your childhood bed, it means you miss what once was and is no more. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Being sick in the QLC is definitely worse than it was during childhood or in college. You go to work with the flu because that budget meeting is more important than the calculus test you could retake. You feel like you may pass out, but you manage to prop yourself up against your desk and keep reading reports. I bet this is pretty American, since we seem to live with the fear that if you don’t do it, someone else will. And that someone might get your promotion, even if you spent the last year earning it. In countries where they have upwards of 5 weeks vacation there’s no way this fear is as all consuming as it is for us in the States. Sick days are probably spent lounging on down filled pillows while they enjoy their government sponsored medical care. Instead I spend three hours (which I try to pass off as a lunch break) angrily glaring at patients who go ahead of me at urgent care even though I swear I was there first. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Loneliness is a feeling the creeps up on me when I least expect it. As an only child I think I can battle the circumstance of actually being alone better than some of my friends. Those who grew up in busy households thrive on noise and others to fuel their days. I am used to entertaining myself and seeking a good friend if I get bored. But loneliness is quite different from physically being alone. It’s that feeling that strikes when you realize you are completely overwhelmed at your QLC job and nobody can help you. Or when you and your significant other of however long end the relationship and no matter what your best friends do for you, the ache of losing your ultimate best friend will not go away. Maybe it’s when a friend dies, or you realize a good friend has changed and your relationship can never be the same. It happens to everyone, friends grow apart and lives transform under all sorts of circumstances. People have babies, friends move, roommates get promoted and no longer have time to talk about your life in excruciating detail. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are so many other feelings and situations that boil up during the QLC. I escape into books and spend hours with Hermione Granger, Lizbeth Salander, and Rebecca Bloomwood. Other QLC friends zone out with the Kardashians and the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Most guys in the QLC tend to disappear into video games or ESPN. The reality is that there are situations we have control over, and ones we don’t. You can decide to take a mental health day, but you can’t control your best friend having a baby. Face the Real and manage your QLC as best you can. Take a breather from situations beyond your control. If it all becomes too much then escape to Not Real for a while - but bookmark your page, turn off the marathon, or save the game for another day, and face the world again when you can. </span></div><!--EndFragment-->KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-46994362986346161362011-01-14T05:11:00.000-06:002011-01-14T05:11:52.820-06:00Always Sit at the BarLast weekend was my friend Eadie's 21st birthday. I took it upon myself to arrange a proper American 21st - complete with 21 drinks. The night was fantastic, a combination of Dutch, American, and British 20 somethings drinking and dancing their shoes off. I say shoes because one of the British girls actually did make the conscience, yet intoxicated, decision to leave her shoes at the club. Go Team.<br />
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I stayed on in England for a few days to sightsee and spend more time with Eadie and our Dutch friend, Joanna. On Monday night Eadie took us to a cider house, the CorieTap, with promises of an excellent night, drunk off hard cider. The night, and the bar, did not disappoint.<br />
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As I sometimes do on this blog, I am going to impart more of my 25 year old wisdom and share one of my personal rules with you: <b>Always sit at the bar.</b> This is a shortened version of a longer lesson that I learned from my college orientation guide: <b>Always sit at the bar, befriend the bartender, and tip well.</b> Doing these three things will automatically take your night, and any subsequent visits, to the next level....and I'll tell you why:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">1. Always sit at the bar - The takeaway lesson here. If you sit at the bar you will always meet new people and be in the barender's view <i>without seeming pushy. </i>Yes, sometimes you meet weirdos, but usually you meet awesome people like yourself. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">2. Befriend the bartender - This is best accomplished on a slow night or early evening on a busy one. Being friends with a bartender is like dating; only after putting in the time and effort can you reap the rewards. In this case the rewards are the occasional free drink and not having to wait to order drinks on a busy night. In the meantime, you've also become friends with a fun individual, who is usually up for a good time, anytime. Bartenders make the bar what it is, and they are some of my favorite people in the world. I've lived with bartenders, dated bartenders, and even traveled to Asia with one. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">3. Tip well - In the U.S., people in the service industry depend on tips - so tip them! and tip them well! I always say a dollar a drink is a good starting point. Remember, this is different than a dollar a round. Tipping does not mean leaving your spare change. Yes, you can leave the 25 cents you got back from the cheap beer you just ordered, but add something. Everyone and their mom wants to go to 25c draft night, except the bartender. Why? Because they don't make any money. Remember what I said about befriending the bartender? Tipping well is a fast way into their hearts, but being awesome is the only way to earn their respect. </span><br />
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So sitting at the bar was how we met Matt and Ben. Matt and Ben are fun, and Matt and Ben are incredibly nice. They are the kind of guys my friends and I would, and should, date. They have a fatal flaw though - they live in England. Figures. We had a great night though, drinking hard cider and taking far too many photos. The guys then led us to a classy bar where we had to ring a doorbell to get in.....there was a second where I thought perhaps we would end up in the club Leighton Meester busts in the "Good Girls Go Bad" video. No such luck, but a fun place nonetheless. It was a bar reminiscent of Natt Spil, my all time favorite bar in the states, although they did not have any ginger infused vodka cocktails. You can't win them all!<br />
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Overall, my trip to Bristol was a lot of fun and quite exhausting. Between walking more than any Americans do in their own cities, and drinking until all hours of the morning, I need a few days to catch up on life. Sitting at the bar has its perks, but there is a reason most bartenders sleep until 2 in the afternoon. Good thing I have the latest episodes of How I Met Your Mother queued up and some leftover fried rice in the fridge. I know what I'm doing this lazy afternoon!KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-91269931118832140462011-01-11T05:39:00.000-06:002011-01-14T05:11:24.231-06:00Great GuysEvery once in awhile you meet a great guy, go out with him, and then sadly realize there is no chemistry. Sometimes it’s quite sad because he fantastic on paper and in person; technically, he is your dream guy, but then – nothing. Other times he is a great person, but with every passing moment of the date you realize you have zero in common. In a world full of awful first dates, one night stands, and guys who don’t call when you wish they did, these Great Guys are an elusive breed. <br />
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I had a run-in with one of these guys not so long ago. He owned his own company, therefore showing me he was not a bum. He set his own hours, therefore having the freedom to do exciting things unlike a lot of American guys working a zillion hours a week. He was an outgoing person who was friends with quite a few bartenders; therefore I thought we had some type of mysterious personality trait in common. We went out one night and everything fell apart. Just to give you a short list of deal breakers:<br />
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He was a conservative Republican. I am a fairly liberal Democrat. <br />
He never cooked. I absolutely love to cook and bake.<br />
He didn’t see the interest in international travel. I don’t have an interest in living in the States.<br />
He didn’t like spicy food. At this point, I can only eat spicy food. <br />
He didn’t drink beer. I am a bit of a beer geek. I mean, I go to festivals and live for brewery tours. He subsists solely on Captain and Cokes. <br />
Basically all we had in common was that we both liked going to bars. There are a lot of bars; I never saw him again. <br />
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Marisa had one of these dates this year as well. Here’s a quick rundown of the evening in her own words:<br />
So he called on Tuesday, asking if I would go out to dinner on Thursday. Jim seems nice, but Jim seems boring. He's about 6'2"ish, really skinny, strikes me as a little dorky. As far as our date goes, it was a very good date (even though I was still hungover from Wednesday night). He made reservations (which has NEVER happened to me before), picked me up (also rare), and drove us to the restaurant. He did all the gentlemanly things a guy should do. He opened doors for me, walked in front of me down stairs, behind me when going up. Let me sit at the table first, and of course, paid. It wasn't awkward at all, in fact we talked the entire time. The only awkwardness was when I decided to order dessert and he didn't... and the waiter brought us two "on the house." But we have nothing in common. He plays golf, sings in a funk band, has two sisters, and has never played a contact sport. It made me feel very masculine. Dinner ended up lasting almost 3 hours, but no sparks the entire time. He dropped me off at the end of the night, and I bailed out of the car quickly to avoid any "do we kiss or not?" awkwardness. He texted me later to say he had a really good time and whatnot, but I haven't heard from him since. That's okay by me, I'll be glad if he also realizes we have nothing in common. He's a nice guy, but I feel nothing.... It's a shame, isn't it? <br />
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Another one of my friends found herself in the situation of dating a dream guy, but feeling absolutely no chemistry. They went out several times and just like Jim, he did everything a guy is supposed to do but no one actually does. This guy was exactly her type too! He was just a bit taller than her, funny, attractive, all of us liked him, but nada. They kissed a few times but she finally took the mature road and ended it politely. I know very few friends who end casual dating encounters politely, so this was a big move. He didn’t feel the same and admitted that he was sad it had to end, but perhaps they could remain friends. Even the breakup was polite. These guys do not exist. <br />
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Except they do exist. We just can’t find them often enough. To put it in Planet Earth terms: Great Guys are the snow leopards in South America that the film crew waited 4 years to film, but when they did get footage, it was absolutely amazing. So there we are, waiting for Great Guy to sit next to you on a plane, or whatever meet cute you fantasize about, and in the meantime we are making out with too old frat boys and going on dates with guys who weirdly worship Tupac. To make things more complicated, when we meet very few Great Guys, the odds of the Great Guy being Great Guy for You are not in our favour. Instead, we try to mold Average to Below-Average Men into Great Guy for You and to be honest, I haven’t witnessed too many happy endings there. What is a girl to do?<br />
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I wonder if guys have the same problem in reverse. Are they waiting on Not Too Crazy Girl while dating Can't Remember My Own Name Girl? If dating was a Venn Diagram for women, I feel it would look like this:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil515uuc0mULWg-X2svlWBGWoUYfs10Jgh8UngkhYq26pG9iL94T2uXkeBk3CqY-UNE9WbyhbNbrsT3N835jXkF7sdxaFoirKYzXgxPpi1FzQqyzj5McHDLmQO83223aLpcBFxmV79Xhrt/s1600/P1000611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil515uuc0mULWg-X2svlWBGWoUYfs10Jgh8UngkhYq26pG9iL94T2uXkeBk3CqY-UNE9WbyhbNbrsT3N835jXkF7sdxaFoirKYzXgxPpi1FzQqyzj5McHDLmQO83223aLpcBFxmV79Xhrt/s320/P1000611.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-13983785142437642922011-01-10T06:53:00.000-06:002011-01-10T06:53:45.361-06:00Challenge of the WeekLast night I watched "How To Train Your Dragon" and "Despicable Me" with some girlfriends while eating brownies and chips. It was a great girls night. That inspired me for this week's challenge:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">Spend some time watching cartoons or an animated movie. </span><br />
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Veg out for an hour or two with some popcorn. The movies are funny, heartwarming, and usually have a good song or two. It's impossible to remain in a bad mood after that!KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-85609218524113666022011-01-06T10:23:00.000-06:002011-01-18T07:36:59.188-06:00*Budapest*<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve spent the last few days trying to figure out how to tell everyone about my trip to Budapest. Every time I sit down to write, I just get stuck. I decided the problem was that just too much happened and it was too much fun. So I’ve split up the post into two parts: Sightseeing and Partying. Read one, or read them both!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Budapest Part #1 </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sightseeing</span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Budapest is an old city. People have literally been living there since the 1</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">st</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Century A.D. It has a long and interesting history, and I promise not to show off my History degree here and explain it all to you. I should just say that it is an old city with amazing architecture. Budapest is actually two cities, Buda and Pest (pronounced Pesht), with one on each side of the Danube River. Considering we had to sightsee in approximately 15F (-9C) weather, as well as get it done between hangovers, we had to be thoughtful and efficient with what we chose to see. If it had been a bit warmer, and I had had a few more days, I probably would have traveled all over town to see the museums, markets, and just get lost in the city streets. As I couldn’t feel my toes and hot wine tended to splash on my gloves when I shivered too hard, I settled for the big sights and the “must dos.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Must Do #1 Eat and Drink as the Hungarians Do</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I ate Hungarian sausage at the Christmas Market and Hungarian goulash every chance I had. The sausages were massive, and oh so, so, so tasty. The goulash was amazing, and everywhere you went it was just a little bit different. Hungarian goulash (apparently it is the original goulash, Americans stole the word to mean any old type of stew) is a spicy broth with chunks of potato, carrot, and beef floating in it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRckxW0gzq70d8cKsJNZllHYFWywglXgd61aZT9BSjbzkL6sd1hi6m3-888AQOksuTtR7OBDaxHLNbzzURDBt3vYrBlD2lco73h_G-LAdx3HuL8p69-BPsbqqO7fOlxb0jINkMJNci4dl5/s1600/P1000201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRckxW0gzq70d8cKsJNZllHYFWywglXgd61aZT9BSjbzkL6sd1hi6m3-888AQOksuTtR7OBDaxHLNbzzURDBt3vYrBlD2lco73h_G-LAdx3HuL8p69-BPsbqqO7fOlxb0jINkMJNci4dl5/s320/P1000201.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My mouth is watering just looking at this stack of spicy sausages...</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Let me tell you about Hungarian desserts. My favorite was the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Beigli</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, a poppyseed roll that Hungarian friends at home told me I must try in Budapest. It did not disappoint. I’d probably fail an opium drug test (anyone seen Seinfeld?) but it was worth it. The best thing about Hungarian desserts is that although they look like they will be sickeningly sweet, when you take a bite absolutely nothing is overwhelming. Pancakes (different from American pancakes, these are more like crepes) drenched in chocolate sauce, have delicate flavors reminiscent of chocolate soufflés, allowing you to eat it without a resulting stomachache. The flavors balance out so nicely that you involuntarily make a mmmmmmmm sound.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My absolute favorite thing to do in Budapest though was drink the hot wine. Apparently this is not specific to Hungary, but in the states it is 100% illegal to set up a booth on the street and sell hot alcohol to people of all ages, therefore this was my first experience with hot wine. The Hungarians call mulled wine </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">forralt bor</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, and apparently it is quite easy to make at home. Mental note for all future holiday parties. Or Sundays. They heat up wine, toss in some yummy spices like cinnamon or clove, add some orange or lemon slices, and sell it to you for about $2 a cup. It’s the same idea as hot apple cider in Wisconsin; the drink warms you inside and out. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSu72HhM2wg1SR8oZ05qVzkKmIZqUO24DO-CXJnt44Elq9xkLg1BUT93wRyolr2tCKhUMZCIV1MT7KPGK8rblBHPdbYW9wJssQDwC_AEhsjqGJhg-1pMrUVw2Amwph3ZqLAGF1iKKvelP7/s1600/P1000108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSu72HhM2wg1SR8oZ05qVzkKmIZqUO24DO-CXJnt44Elq9xkLg1BUT93wRyolr2tCKhUMZCIV1MT7KPGK8rblBHPdbYW9wJssQDwC_AEhsjqGJhg-1pMrUVw2Amwph3ZqLAGF1iKKvelP7/s320/P1000108.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Enjoying muddled wine on Vaci utca</span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Must Do #2 Use Public Transportation</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ok, this is probably not every tourist’s must do. However, for me it is. Ever since my trip to Asia I have become obsessed with using public transportation in foreign cities. Conquering foreign public transportation systems is like earning a badge of honor for me. I remember the first time I rode the Bangkok Skytrain, I was freaked out and fairly unprepared. I survived – and arrived at my destination for much, much, much cheaper than a taxi ride. Using the Budapest metro was on my list of must do’s and actually, was a bit of a have-to-do in the end. Everyone, from tour books to Hungarians themselves, tell you never to hail a cab on the street. I have a personal rule: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If the locals will not do it, you should not do it.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Here are some concrete examples: If locals are avoiding a yummy smelling street food cart, you should as well. If locals go through the trouble of calling a cab and waiting on a cold street corner, you should as well. So we called cabs, or actually, had Hungarians call cabs for us since Hungarian is a very, very hard language to attempt. We found it was easier to navigate our way on the Metro, therefore saving taxi rides for late-night return trips to our apartment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I won’t babble too long about using the Metro, but I do want to mention that it was at our stop that I rode the fastest, tallest, most dangerous escalator of my life. It kicks the butt of every escalator in America. We went about a mile underground, wind billowing my coat up around me. Also, I found out later that this underground railroad line is the second oldest in the world! It was originally built between 1894-1986 and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Must Do #3 Explore the Sights of Buda</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My Husband and I joined up with another couple (they are AWESOME) and because of the insane cold we did the tourist thing and jumped on a sightseeing bus. This turned out to be a great decision and we tooled around both Buda and Pest for the better part of the day. In Buda we took photos from Gellert Hill, overlooking the Danube and Pest. Unfortunately it was foggy, grey, and cold, so our photos were not as fantastic as those you can find online. We also walked around the Castle District, exploring the grounds of the former Royal Palace, as well as viewing bullet-ridden buildings that stand as reminders that Hungary was once part of the Eastern Bloc. We saw the world famous view of Parliament, a beautiful building inaugurated on the 1000</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> anniversary of the country in 1896. Again, our pictures were a bit on the sad side, so I’m going to steal one offline and I bet you’ll recognize it from movies:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy7qpnMsg0X5hnCpwEX9LLNNZqouVd21DMgz4UbgiKeoVm7b5hpP2qOON7-21ia6YXDJTFSqAIWKXfsPl36ar_yzi7xlbraeK_Pz2P5NUYNNdBnPY696sc1q4kev1YKqR_LyW5b6oq8AV/s1600/budapest+parliament.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy7qpnMsg0X5hnCpwEX9LLNNZqouVd21DMgz4UbgiKeoVm7b5hpP2qOON7-21ia6YXDJTFSqAIWKXfsPl36ar_yzi7xlbraeK_Pz2P5NUYNNdBnPY696sc1q4kev1YKqR_LyW5b6oq8AV/s320/budapest+parliament.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">http://www.cityhotels.hu/eng/cityhotels_gallery/11_budapest/65_parliament_budapest_hungary.html</span></td></tr>
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</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Must Do #4 Explore the Sights of Pest</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Although I didn’t get to do nearly everything I wanted in Pest, I did get to enjoy the Christmas Market, walk around Heroes’ Square, marvel at the Great Synagogue, play at </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Vajdahunyad Castle,</span></div></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important;"><div style="display: inline !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> and soak in the famous Széchenyi Thermal Baths.</span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I knew beforehand that the Christmas Market was primarily for tourists. My Hungarian girlfriends sat and drank hot wine with us by the enormous Christmas Tree and told us that they only heard foreign languages, that the only people speaking Hungarian were the vendors! Oh well, it was on my list and fortunately our apartment was only two blocks from the square. I bought some hand painted ornaments for the equivalent of $2, and a small bottle of Hungarian Plum Grappa. I searched for something fun to get my best friend’s son, but it was much too touristy and there didn’t seem to be any great Hungarian presents for a one year old. I pretty much just ate my way through the Christmas Market; tasting spicy sausage from nearly every stand to choose my favorite. My mouth is watering just thinking about it….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I saw </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hősök tere</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, or Heroes’ Square, during both night and day. I have to say it was more beautiful at night with all the lights on the statues. While looking at this photo you may think, “Where have I seen this before?” </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The answer is in Michael Jackson’s video: HIStory</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/c93o05SrWzE?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/c93o05SrWzE?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c93o05SrWzE&feature=related</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I think the ending is a bit strange, with a gigantic statue of Michael replacing the famous statue of Archangel Gabriel holding the crown of St. Stephen, the first king of Hungary. A bit blasphemous, but I’m sure Michael had his reasons. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<b><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Great Synagogue was also a nice sight to check off the Bucket List. It is the second largest synagogue in the world, behind Temple Emanu-El in New York City. Most of my college friends know that I am fascinated with Jewish history and one of my favorite courses in college was the History of Israel. I didn’t have a chance to walk around inside the Great Synagogue since My Husband wasn’t quite as excited as I was about it, but I did take my time walking around outside and considering the synagogue's history. Originally built between 1854-1859, it suffered severe structural damage during WWII. In the 1990s it was restored and is again home to the largest Jewish population in Europe. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHy757w5nV1D07eAH-uAiaSPihjL2-V4iM_SWtyc6-4RW76lxX4YqNpXMNwYIXUDT0wUunUvyTQu28s-eRM_6KQkFiuTqiROimU2rbjYKlXgu_YjqT8I6tcHJ6mRgVQ9gwdf2Pd-hrFQH/s1600/P1000450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHy757w5nV1D07eAH-uAiaSPihjL2-V4iM_SWtyc6-4RW76lxX4YqNpXMNwYIXUDT0wUunUvyTQu28s-eRM_6KQkFiuTqiROimU2rbjYKlXgu_YjqT8I6tcHJ6mRgVQ9gwdf2Pd-hrFQH/s320/P1000450.JPG" width="320" /></span></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOZfjvhYL84EbsCh6ecjQR-oZ2EUk7tWMg9bL1L-CX6qBsjrgb0gb1HcfBvPPD70mAeFdB7WVIjSNTEfY8Y3GYOnXNqtThaiN1z3yyVChnsKxCuGE-qGvq3Ht1vk2iQ07Ll_lYR3JQx6y/s1600/P1000448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOZfjvhYL84EbsCh6ecjQR-oZ2EUk7tWMg9bL1L-CX6qBsjrgb0gb1HcfBvPPD70mAeFdB7WVIjSNTEfY8Y3GYOnXNqtThaiN1z3yyVChnsKxCuGE-qGvq3Ht1vk2iQ07Ll_lYR3JQx6y/s320/P1000448.JPG" width="320" /></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Vajdahunyad Castle was one of my favorite sites in Budapest. Located in City Park, it is reportedly one of the castles used to create the iconic castle in Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty.” I now want to live in a castle - only if it has a turret and a drawbridge though. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="display: inline !important; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9e8eNKWFUVEA3OJUqQjY4ZMVTd2nYVYsu_pT3_Z30ex8eKepDwFmUT4C49LuAZl3yWPqmumQxo9MRSK2ql12nbNJPNQTsfbzuhjuYL7D36PoxB1IMXY5L9dWD-4scrIoQ1yBt2PqDGo3/s1600/castle+budapest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9e8eNKWFUVEA3OJUqQjY4ZMVTd2nYVYsu_pT3_Z30ex8eKepDwFmUT4C49LuAZl3yWPqmumQxo9MRSK2ql12nbNJPNQTsfbzuhjuYL7D36PoxB1IMXY5L9dWD-4scrIoQ1yBt2PqDGo3/s320/castle+budapest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</span></span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-mvVkH_3TH-Axyc7UpLRAWUJCucg9dAEnEKzf9gldsqYiMCF5oFwM0jLK0OMfmQf85nsnLtacJGUY87WUPsQYVPY4yuPz2N05u5NDqP3sWdiZfNieaRNgutDT6ow-1T5TM_c1zkumhKg/s1600/P1000470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-mvVkH_3TH-Axyc7UpLRAWUJCucg9dAEnEKzf9gldsqYiMCF5oFwM0jLK0OMfmQf85nsnLtacJGUY87WUPsQYVPY4yuPz2N05u5NDqP3sWdiZfNieaRNgutDT6ow-1T5TM_c1zkumhKg/s320/P1000470.JPG" width="240" /></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></span> <div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve saved the best for last. The absolute most wonderful thing I saw and did in Budapest was relax in the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Széchenyi </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Thermal Baths. The baths were built in 1913 and are heated by natural hot springs that run about 171F (77C). The water is cooled to manageable temperatures and there are numerous baths inside and out where you can soak. We had to wait about 30 minutes to get inside, but it was more than worth it. We wandered around inside for a while; the changing procedures, locker assignments, and towel rental is quite confusing. Eventually everyone was swim-suited up and ready to Jacuzzi the evening away.</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We started inside because at night it was around 10F (-12C) and I was dreading the inevitable barefoot walk across cold concrete. Eventually we did brave winter and were handsomely rewarded with one of the best 2 hours of my life. Not only do you get to sit in 95F (35C) water, staring through steam at your friends and forgetting about the frozen world around you, but you also get to do this while drinking Stella Artois or sipping hot wine. I cannot think of a better concept for a winter evening. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I absolutely loved my time in Budapest. One of the most wonderful parts of the trip was the incredible warmth I felt from the Hungarian people. I’ve found that kind-hearted people often populate countries that recently experienced hardships, and that they are eager to change the images of their countries. The Soviet Era left scars on several aspects of Budapest, but the majority of people I spoke with were helpful, patient, and nice. Beside crazy taxi drivers (as my Hungarian friend calls them – I had a different, more inappropriate name for them), I had an extremely positive experience and I cannot wait until I return to Hungary. I just hope that Americans are as nice to foreigners in the states as Hungarians were to us in Budapest. Absolute strangers helped us call taxis, vendors corrected our change when we misread large bills, and transit workers pointed out routes on confusing maps. If you can, travel to Budapest. You will not regret it. </span></span></div></b></div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-86070663706491412422011-01-04T06:46:00.000-06:002011-01-04T07:13:06.742-06:00Anddddddd Everything is Pink<div class="MsoNormal">Well I’m back in Italy now and for all the pros, there are of course some cons. For example, today I did laundry in our Italian washing machine and turned everything pink. Very pink. I mean, if I have to choose a Crayola color to describe it, I would pick “Cotton Candy.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Italian washing machines are a bit different than American ones. For one, the instruction manual is in Italian. For two, the symbols on the machine mean absolutely nothing to me (although I did deduce that the t-shirt probably meant cotton), and finally, water temperature is in Celsius. The three factors added up to one unfortunate load of laundry. Another interesting fact about Italian washers is that one load takes approximately 3 hours, and that is on the fast setting. There is actually an overnight setting if you feel like waiting. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think that Italian washers very accurately portray Italian culture. Italians are never in a hurry. I have yet to see an Italian recklessly pushing through a crowd to get their grocery shopping done and over to the post office before it closes. It’s quite the opposite where I live in northern Italy. People spend their entire Monday morning at the post office chatting and waiting in line to pay bills. They stroll through grocery stores – that is, when the grocery store is actually open for business. Everything shuts down for 4 hours during the day so people can go home for lunch, nap, and sometimes get drunk in the piazza. So it doesn’t really matter to them that the quickest laundry setting takes 3 whole hours, because they just aren’t in a hurry to complete their chores.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A fifth interesting Italian washer fact is that the door locks immediately after pushing the start button, and does not unlock until 5 minutes after the cycle is finished. So if you realized you made a mistake? Oh well! Just enjoy watching the clothes gradually turn pink in the window as it mockingly continues whirling. Or what about that shirt you need to wear within the next 3 hours? Forget about it, there’s no way in there. Again you can sadly watch it get pressed up against the window, tauntingly close, yet completely unreachable. While us Americans would become stressed out at the thought that we can’t rescue our beloved white shirt swimming in hot water with the red sock, Italians apparently either never make this mistake, or get over it. I doubt anyone writes scathing letters to washing machine manufacturers bitching about how they couldn’t get to their clothes when they desperately needed them. Italians probably shrug, and then gather their entire family at the nearest restaurant for raucous wine drinking and pizza eating until late into the night. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So I tried to take a page from the Italian’s book and say I didn’t care about my American Apparel knee high socks turning Easter Bunny Pink….but then I saw them this morning and became sad again. But then I remembered something! Rachel turned an entire load of laundry pink when she first moved to New York in Friends! Granted, I’ve been doing laundry for 10 years and this wouldn’t have happened in the states, but Rachel moved on and so can I. At least I can pull off my pink socks, and my white undies that are now Sunset Pink are evenly died so they actually look quite nice. Unfortunately for My Husband, I’m not so sure how people will respond to his new pink socks. He can mix and match them with his yellow socks though – because yesterday he accidently put an orange shirt in with them and dyed an entire load of laundry a nice Sunshine Yellow. </div>KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9188527437406728099.post-22409061073097407512011-01-03T16:01:00.000-06:002011-01-03T16:01:45.317-06:00Challenge of the WeekI hope everyone had a great New Years Eve! I finally had a wonderful one myself, so I feel like I can start the New Year off on the right foot. So here is your challenge for the week:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Make an achievable list of things to accomplish in 2011.</span></span><br />
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Everyone always makes New Year's Resolutions - but this year I urge you to be more realistic and set goals you can accomplish throughout the year. Jen brought this to my attention with her own list for 2010. A few of her examples were becoming a Make a Wish volunteer and playing on a competitive hockey team again. These attainable goals pushed her out of her comfort zone and gave her a bit of framework for who she will be after college.<br />
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So sit down and make a realistic list of things to accomplish in 2011. I'll do the same and post it here this week. Remember, challenge yourself - but make the list doable!KBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05254216866662800775noreply@blogger.com0