tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319646522024-03-07T14:10:18.512-05:00Preppy in VermontThe life, thoughts and general comments of a Preppy Girl at heart adjusting to life in the Real WorldP in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.comBlogger603125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-57029816463607124852010-10-27T21:41:00.002-04:002010-10-27T21:56:15.229-04:00Mean Girl<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">It's official. We have a bully at school. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Unfortunately this bully is a member of the staff and forty years old.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Not even kidding.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">She is a mean girl to the core. You know she was that girl in middle school who spread rumors about people and excluded others and was just downright cruel.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">It all started last week when she was upset about a decision that was made at a team meeting. (Which she blamed an INDIVIDUAL for making. Um, HELLO?!? It's a TEAM MEETING. TEAM DECISION. WHEN YOU SKIP THE MEETING YOU VETO OPINION.) Then? She cornered me about my Jazzercise prices and how they were too expensive.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I was willing to take the high road.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Today? She made my cooperating teacher cry and made a snide remark in the lunchroom about Jazzercise again- - "I think I might come to jazz tonight... I'd really love to come twice a week but I, JUST. CAN'T. AFFORD. IT."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">OKAY LADY. I GET IT. YOU THINK IT'S TOO EXPENSIVE. GUESS WHAT?!?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I DON'T.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Also? I don't manage your family's budget. If you think it's too much money, don't come. SIMPLE AS THAT.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Because I'm a new teacher I'm really trying to keep quiet, go with the flow, and stay under the radar.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Meanie MaGee isn't making it too easy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">If she keeps this up? She's goin' DOWN. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I walked off the middle school playground about twelve years ago and I don't intend on going back. </span> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-71882392595986254622010-10-25T18:10:00.003-04:002010-10-25T18:20:41.338-04:00Another Update<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Wow. I am REALLY terrible. It's been over a month since my last post. I'd like to say that I'm going to be more than a once-a-month blogger, but... I'm not going to make any promises. With such long breaks in between posts it's hard to know where to start, but since I just celebrated my birthday (26! WHOA!) yesterday, I think I'll start there.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">And that? Begins with me saying that I have the best. boyfriend. ever. He is seriously amazing. He gets me COMPLETELY and totally loves that I'm NUTS 98% of the time. He is optimistic and life-loving and totally lights up a room when he walks in. He loves my family, he is kind and supportive and I could not be happier. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I know what you're thinking, it won't always be sunshine and rainbows but... I think it will.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">So THERE. ;)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">My birthday weekend started with the two of us getting some stuff done around his house in preparation for the party we were hosting there Sunday evening. We went to the gym, then headed home to shower and get ready for my birthday weekend getaway. He planned an entire weekend away for my birthday and I had no idea.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">We had some errands to run before we left town (we bought a bedroom set and a living room set... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I KNOW!), so after we finished that we headed south on 89 and that was when he told me our destination: </span><a href="http://www.topnotchresort.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Topnotch</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"> in Stowe, VT. He got a room for the entire weekend and signed me up for a day at the spa on Saturday. It was, in one word, AMAZING. I relaxed, we went out to dinner, I slept in, read the paper in bed, and just enjoyed every minute of my birthday weekend.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">It was incredible.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Sunday we came home and hosted a small birthday gathering at his house. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I am so loving my life right now it's amazing.</span> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-47927931198819413542010-09-22T19:28:00.003-04:002010-09-22T19:40:13.729-04:00Life in Vermont<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I really have so much to say here and have just lacked the motivation to sit down and type it. It's not because I'm SUPER busy. Ironically, I'm the least stressed and most calm I have been in four years. For the first time... ever? I'm only working one job (for now) and am not in school. It is an amazingly liberating feeling. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I, stupidly, thought that since I'm making more money than I EVER HAVE BEFORE one job would cut it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">HAHA.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Those are my graduate loans laughing in my face. Remind me why I went back to school...?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Oh right. So I could get my sorry a** back to Vermont. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Well... here I am. I am living in a part of Vermont that I have never spent time in before and I am actually loving it. It's much more small town than I'm used to, especially coming from Fairfield County, Connecticut, but it is so idyllic and amazing. I walk to and from school every day. People you pass on the street say hello and, of course, everybody... knows EVERYBODY.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I have amazing views of the mountains which are just beginning to change to foliage colors, I have a river that runs through town that I run along every day, and most importantly, I have my own classroom that I have worked so hard for the last two years to get.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">OF COURSE. Public school in rural Vermont is a MUCH different demographic than private school in CT. My class statistics are depressing and inspiring simultaneously. I'm trying to learn to keep my head above water with 1/4 of my class requiring special ed, 2/3 requiring special services, no classroom aid and one special per day. It's a challenge, but I feel like I have an amazing start to the year.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Some days I do find myself banging my head against my desk once the kids have left, but OVERALL, it's been pretty good. I actually have my first observation this week which is terrifying but I'd just as soon get it over with. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">And. To top it all off. I have an amazing boyfriend. Like, an AMAZING boyfriend. And I could not be happier.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Life? Is pretty freakin' sweet these days.</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div><br /></div>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-78781940357666727402010-09-13T22:02:00.001-04:002010-09-13T22:03:27.879-04:00Stayin' Alive<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I'm still here. Can you believe it? I'm sure NO ONE is reading this anymore, but... I'm back. Watch out.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">Full updates coming soon.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6666;">I promise.</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-9987450510806290392010-06-04T11:54:00.002-04:002010-06-04T12:24:01.232-04:00Coming to an End<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Last night we had a Jazzercise Girl's Night Out to celebrate some happenings of the instructors at our center. Two (including me) are moving, one is getting married, and one just became certified. I always have a hard time motivating for these types of activities, but I don't know why, I never regret going.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Last night was no exception. I had the *best* time. We started out the evening with drinks and dinner and the woman who planned the outing presented all of us with small gifts. I got a homemade trophy with my picture on it from the marathon, a picture frame with the play bill from Avenue Q (an inside joke- - I HATE that show), and a cute charm that says, "I (heart) CT". It was so sweet of them to think of me. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Karaoke was just getting started (we all signed up. Come on. 12 Jazzercise instructors at the same party? YOU BET people were singing and dancing) and I found myself at the bar with the owner of the center. I like her a lot, and really respect and admire how she manages everything. She offered to buy me a drink and took the opportunity to say how much she was going to miss me. It was very sweet, but what she said next really meant a lot. She told me that in all of her years of Jazzercise and all of her experience with instructors she rarely finds someone like me- - who is an incredible instructor, professional and "cool" as well. It was so sweet and I really appreciated her taking the time to say that. It makes what I do worth it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">During dinner we had all signed up and the karaoke was getting started so a group of three of us got it started with "Brick House" complete with wigs and feather boas. We do it right. People who know me in real life or have been reading this blog for a while know that my go-to song is Baby Got Back. I, of course, signed up for that with another instructor. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The next group of people got called up and they were NOT with our group. They were part of a softball team. Their song of choice? <br /><br />BABY. GOT. BACK.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">OH NO THEY DIDN'T!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">They did. Only they? DID NOT. RESPECT. THE SONG. AT ALL. They didn't sing into the microphone. Had to READ the lyrics, and spent half the time giggling at themselves.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Oh YES. They did.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I was heartbroken. Everyone knows it's not in good taste to do the same song TWICE in one night.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Good thing I don't always act in "good taste" B*TCHES! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I marched over to the DJ and plead my case, "Listen, I know this is totally lame, but their rendition of Baby Got Back was lackluster. They obviously don't care about it in the same way I do. Please. If you let me do this song, in a few songs, I promise... you will NOT regret it."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">He, miraculously, agreed. I think it had something to do with my saucy dress and killer dance moves. I'm just sayin'. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">A few songs later, he called us up.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Before the song started, I took the opportunity to have the mic and addressed the crowd, "I'm really sorry about doing this. We're going to do a song that has already been sung tonight, BUT... and I would normally NEVER call anyone out like this... it was not done with the flourish that it should be. So, to the girls who already performed this song to night, I'm sorry. You're about to get shown up."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Oh, YES I DID.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">And? In case you're wondering... WE. KILLED. IT. Like, cat-calls during and standing ovation at the end. LIKE, WE GOT FREE DRINK TICKETS FOR THE BEST KARAOKE PERFORMANCE OF THE NIGHT.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">BOO to the YEA.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I may not be able to carry a tune in a bucket, but I can channel Sir-Mix-a-Lot like NO OTHER. It's a gift.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-28096766808846875422010-06-01T19:39:00.004-04:002010-06-01T20:37:42.137-04:00The Marathon: Part I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZFjgOzi7_H3D5-DxWwCQE11ELqni7L7bKP-0po9RYJ-UzbXR1gDpHO0Orhwok8y21LamIcHcXG7-eQNXkLmxxINdWG5tNrdUOEV804ERuoUx32cliicSmA9q1jI2bZLUynSo/s1600/IMG_5707.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZFjgOzi7_H3D5-DxWwCQE11ELqni7L7bKP-0po9RYJ-UzbXR1gDpHO0Orhwok8y21LamIcHcXG7-eQNXkLmxxINdWG5tNrdUOEV804ERuoUx32cliicSmA9q1jI2bZLUynSo/s320/IMG_5707.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477968134259031362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7oV4d7xsQ1M0hnvN8k4NGdA_AvyM4I0eyr9p5b5lMxiJw8w9l65Czo4oU8ARJegWm1BcbE_xLXNiIEcVFbLBseInON1CAePVWnb_GcHYb6iKatF4H3vbABf1nBV4tTfHe7kz/s1600/IMG_5689.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7oV4d7xsQ1M0hnvN8k4NGdA_AvyM4I0eyr9p5b5lMxiJw8w9l65Czo4oU8ARJegWm1BcbE_xLXNiIEcVFbLBseInON1CAePVWnb_GcHYb6iKatF4H3vbABf1nBV4tTfHe7kz/s320/IMG_5689.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477968124013458050" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstU-rFavS2eSG521uVSXL-AQM92bvTGFafdGvXXiVPS55HrwkyBxLpzAk2c2eiOk6GthDuV3xDq9F6qRKt1fNUUskhmLuutqWSzv7Net3CV2AFzrz2cWCOB0YB0Koucct9rh9/s1600/IMG_5684.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstU-rFavS2eSG521uVSXL-AQM92bvTGFafdGvXXiVPS55HrwkyBxLpzAk2c2eiOk6GthDuV3xDq9F6qRKt1fNUUskhmLuutqWSzv7Net3CV2AFzrz2cWCOB0YB0Koucct9rh9/s320/IMG_5684.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477968117356601522" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Sunday was the BIG DAY. The day that I have been training for since January. The day that I have been waiting for with nervous anticipation for the past few weeks.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It did not disappoint. I woke up early to make sure I had plenty of time to eat something, drink some water, and get all of my stuff organized. Best friend S and his parents met me and my family at our house and we all headed down to the start of the race together.<br /><br />Before we separated from the group S's mom handed us each a card. They were from S's older sister who couldn't be there, it was such a sweet gesture.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We visited with everyone for a little bit near the start and made our way over to the Race Start.<br /><br /> I had never raced in a race this big before so I didn't know what to expect but it was actually very low key. You just kind of found your place and waited for the countdown. This was where I was the most nervous. The moments before the countdown were when I started to sweat and wish that I was simply spectating. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Then the countdown hit zero and there was no turning back. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />We snaked our way through downtown Burlington and were barely into our second mile when I heard a phone ringing. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />Really.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">A man next to me answered his phone.<br /><br /> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">"Hello? Yea... I'm running the marathon... can I call you back?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">ANSWERED HIS PHONE. DURING THE MARATHON.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It takes all kinds I guess! </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />We looped around and headed north to a section of the marathon that is a 6 mile out and back. (Three each way.) This part of the marathon did not have many fans so many of the men used it to relieve themselves in relative privacy. And by privacy I mean in front of 1,500 other racers.<br /><br />I actually didn't mind this part because as I ran out the faster runners were coming back in. I felt great about my pace and it was motivating to see the fastest runners in the race. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It was during this leg that I saw three of my friends (two ahead, one behind) and it was fun to cheer for them and be cheered for BY them. <br /><br />After running a marathon I will never, ever doubt the impact of the words and encouragement from spectators. It is truly amazing. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />I started to slow down on the long gradual uphill at this point and was passed by the 3:30 finish pacers. Wow. I was impressed with myself- - I could still slow down considerably and still might make my 4 hour goal of a finish time!</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />As I crested the hill of this leg, I was passed by yet another pacing group. The 3:40's. Okay... I still had twenty minutes to account for if I could keep this pace going. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I came off of the beltline and was greeted by one of my friends cheering. It was so excited to hear your name while you're out there running. It really is. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />We wove our way back downtown and it was at this point that I saw my family for the first time since I started- - at mile 9. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It was so exciting! My aunt handed me a wet paper towel as I ran by and it felt SO good to clean my face and hands. You wouldn't necessarily think so, but running is a very dirty/sticky sport. I was really hoping for some Bloks or Gu at this point, and I thought my mom would have them ready but I think they weren't quite sure how to get them to me and I wasn't sure that I wanted to wait for them, so I just kept running.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />That? Was a big mistake.</span><br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Miles 9-14 were, in one word, pure MISERY. Luckily at mile 11 my dad HAPPENED to be on the street that I was running down. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Thank god for that familiar, encouraging voice and face because I was ready to run STRAIGHT to the car. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I'm not sure what happened mentally/physically/emotionally but at this point I could have called it quits. I felt like I was going SO SLOWLY and would NEVER reach the end. AND?</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I was barely halfway done. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />At mile 11.5 I thought I heard my name but didn't see anyone I knew in the vicinity so I just kept running. Then, I heard my full name.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I turned my head slightly and saw someone standing on the side of the road in a hot dog suit waving their hands, cheering for me.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I still have NO idea who it was, but god bless them. They got me through mile 13.1. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />Reaching the halfway point was bittersweet. I wanted to be proud of myself but it was a huge relay exchange so the new, fresh, runners kept BLOWING by me which was pretty disheartening. Also- - thinking about the last 13.1 miles and knowing you're about to do them ALL OVER AGAIN... made me want to find the nearest tree, curl up in a ball behind it, and cry.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />Luckily miles 13 and 14 were flat, easy and heading back towards downtown. You could see the hotel we were running towards the entire time which was sort of like a beacon of light- -getting closer, and closer... and then all of a sudden you're almost to mile 15 and climbing the steepest hill of the race.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />Really. And at the bottom of the hill there were Taiko drummers. It was probably the most ominous choice of music at that point. Like I was trying to outrun a tribal ritual where they eat you for dinner after you're grilled alive.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I'm not even kidding.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />I knew my family was going to be around this point so I kept my eyes, up, focused and scanned the crowd the entire way up the hill. It might have cost me a few seconds, but finding them was super important to me at that point. I still had eleven miles to go and I needed encouragement.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /><br />As I almost reached the peak of the hill I saw Sister 2's skinny arm waving ahead. Then my eyes focused and I saw my whole family, my aunt, my uncle, the boys, and S's parents. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Until you've run a marathon and have spent the last 14.5 miles gruelingly putting one foot in front of another, I don't think you can EVER truly appreciate having your whole family in once place, cheering for you. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It was exactly what I needed. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I ran straight over to them, and Sister4 had thoughtfully put two Bloks in her outstretched hand. I grabbed both of them and took one step. The first one fell out.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I took another step and the second one fell.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">DAMN IT.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-12821408530127559962010-05-28T12:09:00.002-04:002010-05-28T12:14:42.555-04:00The Marathon<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Is on Sunday. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!?! It felt SO far away in January and February and all of the sudden. BAM. Here I am packing my sneakers, making a playlist for my ipod and icing my knee.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Yea... my knee. I did something to it about three weeks ago and haven't been able to run more than 3 miles at once since then. I'm extremely nervous for Sunday but hope that the adrenaline of actually being IN THE RACE will get me through it. I went to see a joint doctor, but he couldn't find anything seriously wrong so he prescribed an anti-inflammatory. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">After training for this thing since JANUARY THIRD I will be more than devastated if I can't finish. Not to mention we've planned a rocking post-marathon party that well... would be embarrassing to attend if I didn't RUN the marathon. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">At this point though, I feel great about all of my training and how I've prepared. I just hope it all pays off on Sunday.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Send me good (fast! HEALTHY!) thoughts!</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-61741173475512509262010-05-23T18:56:00.003-04:002010-05-24T10:24:48.498-04:00Jersey<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">My friend, S, called Thursday afternoon and asked if I would join him at his boss' wife's 50th birthday party on Saturday night. The party was across the Hudson in Jersey and only two people were invited from work so he was hoping to have a built-in someone to hang with. Me.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I called him Saturday afternoon to check in on timing and what I should wear. His response? "Totally casual. I'm wearing khakis and a button down." Okay, hmmm... I debated wearing a dress/skirt but decided that I didn't want to be over the top. It was cooling off and the party was around 6pm so I didn't want to look to daytime or too night-ish. I decided on black capris and a dressy printed top. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I had almost reached the UWS when I got a text from him, "Hey! Looks like we're leaving a little later for the party than I thought. Gonna head out around 8pm. We'll grab drinks here before we go."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Perfect!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I get to his apartment, sit down on the couch with a beer and see an invitation sitting on the coffee table. "PAR-TAY" No. Really. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I picked it up and started reading it. It was for the birthday party we were about to attend. It was being held at a restaurant and said, "Party starts at 8! Join us for dinner, drinks and lots of dancing!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">"Uhhhh, S? You didn't tell me this party was at a restaurant...I thought it was at their house!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Him, "at a restaurant?!? WHAT!?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Me: "Oh my gosh! Dinner and DANCING?!? I should have worn a dress! I can't believe you didn't tell me this!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Him: "You look fine! I'm wearing khakis and a linen shirt. Really, you're fine!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Me: "S!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I don't know why guys don't understand this stuff! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We arrived at the party and it was like walking into an episode of Real Housewives: New Jersey. Everyone was dressed TO THE NINES. Seriously, this party was amazing. Drinks were flowing, appetizers were being served and the dance floor was hopping.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We were very late, but still hadn't missed dinner, but everyone was about two hours ahead of us intoxication-wise which kept it, VERY interesting. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The best part of the night was when the birthday girl's 18 year old daughter stood up, with the mic, and gave a speech.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">"Mom. You know we love you so much. Thank you for everything you do, for raising two great kids who you love and for teaching me what's important: never wearing sweatpants and never leaving the house without a blow out. You're the best. KISSES!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Really.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-20299036526890336792010-05-21T11:41:00.003-04:002010-05-21T11:55:29.688-04:00Bachelorette Parties<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">As you know, I am in a wedding this summer. Of course, I will be attending the bride's bachelorette party hosted by her two sisters. Instead of doing one, wild night on the town we've rented a house on the cape for a weekend and will spend the weekend together celebrating.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">This to me, sounds like a dream bachelorette party. There will be no strippers, we're all staying together and we can hit the beach during the day. We can stock the fridge and coolers too so it's reasonably economical. (Remember, the bride has ELEVEN. Count 'em: ELEVEN. bridesmaids so splitting ANYTHING eleven ways is... fairly reasonable.) </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Here's the thing that I don't understand. Everyone's penchant for having male-genitalia themed EVERYTHING. We've been planning the weekend and the emails going around included supplies we would need for the party. Food, drinks, bedding, etc. Then people starting replying about items we would need to pick up at the "dirty" store.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Excuse me?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The "dirty" store?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I don't know about all of you, but I? Don't go there. Nor do I want to be at a party with items from there. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Let me assure you, I am no prude and I'm, for the most part, outgoing and liberal. I don't even mind certain items. But having p3nis (sorry, don't want spammers) shaped glasses, straws, hats, necklaces, plates and cakes REALLY does not appeal to me. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I don't get it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It's not like everyone there hasn't seen one before. It's not as if the soon-to-be bride and groom haven't been living together for two years and she'll be preparing and anxiously awaiting a BIG night.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I really, just, DO NOT GET IT.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I don't think it's funny, and I just don't see the point.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Am I the crazy one here? What's the appeal?</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-22353543880934060652010-05-19T20:48:00.003-04:002010-05-19T21:21:09.401-04:00Nobu<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">My sister has been heading into the city every Tuesday night to have dinner with her (non)boyfriend. It's usually nice because it gives us a night apart, (I get the bed to myself), and it's nice for them to have a weeknight to spend some time together. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">With my impeding move D, Sister 1 and I have been trying to squeeze weeknight hang-outs in to fulfill everything we want to do before M-Day and, my sister is always trying to get me to go into the city with her but with Jazzercise and other work stuff I rarely have time. Last night, she thought she'd try one more time and... I said yes. I didn't have too much else going on and had time to get a quick run in first. GAME ON.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Best Friend S, who lives in NYC, Sister 1 and I emailed back and forth all day long trying to make reservations for dinner. We tried five different places that were all booked. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">For 8:30 on a Tuesday night. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Really. (SEE?!?!? THIS IS WHY I DON'T GO INTO THE CITY!!!)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">J, (the non-boyfriend) was on his way home from a squash match and when we told him about our difficulty making a reservation he replied, "F*ck it. We're goin' to NOBU!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I had never been there before, the only thing I knew was that it was fairly expensive... Sister 1, who has been there a few times, was PUMPED. She loves it there. We called S, told him to meet us down there and we headed down.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Can I just say one thing...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">that dinner was probably the BEST dinner I've ever had in my entire life. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Because J has been there quite a few times and is very familiar with the menu we didn't even open them. He ordered for the table. We had (and I'll probably get ALL of these dishes incorrect): tuna tartar, jalapeno yellowtail, california roll, lettuce wraps, two versions of kobe beef, rock shrimp tempura, two desserts, sake and lychee martinis. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">It was such a fun night, the four of us were able to relax, have a few drinks, an incredible dinner and catch up in a way that we haven't been able to in a while.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The bill was probably more than I make in a month, but...<br /><br />J treated. :)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I'm usually very down to earth but sometimes it's awesome to (pretend) to live the high life</span>.P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-66695558026665660252010-05-18T12:12:00.003-04:002010-05-18T12:24:37.239-04:00Fore!<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I decided..."</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadow! If I fail, if I succeed at least I've lived as I believed</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">!" (Excuse that tangent, as I re-read I decided I couldn't help but break into Whitney Housten-esque vocals.) I decided last summer that I wanted to learn how to play golf but with all of the classes I was enrolled in I really did NOT have the time. Also, it's kind of expensive and not exactly in the budget. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I mentioned at dinner one night last spring to Sister 2's (non)boyfriend's family that I wanted to learn how to play golf. They thought that sounded amazing and are all avid golfers. My sister, last summer, was NOT in support of golf. She felt that it took up too much time and took her (non)boyfriend away far too often. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I actually think she say have said one night. Over dinner to the entire family. OF GOLFERS. "I don't think you can consider it a SPORT if you're allowed to smoke and drink while doing it."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Yes. She's brazen and brassy and stubborn but... that's why we love her. (I think.)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Despite her very obvious feelings on the sport her (non)boyfriend's mother bought her a pair of golf shoes and offered to sign her up for lessons at their exclusive country club.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I was all, "HELLOOOOOO?!?!??!?! I'M THE ONE WHO WANTED TO LEARN HOW TO PLAY GOLF! I WANT THE SHOES! I WANT THE LESSONS! LOOK AT ME!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Well, a year has passed and my sister's golf shoes have been collecting dust in a closet.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Until now. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I found reasonable golf lessons at a club near our house and we took our first one on Saturday. It was so awesome. The Pro could not have been nicer, the staff was so friendly and the club was very welcoming and non-snobby. (Something that is a LITTLE hard to find in the area that we live.) </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We've been to the driving range twice since then and- - I quote- - my sister said she's "hooked." </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We've got a long way to go before we get out on the course but let's hope this is the start to something great. I've got a feeling it is.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-88754035804277596332010-05-17T13:32:00.003-04:002010-05-17T13:49:14.121-04:00Officer<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">So, the new guy from the bar last weekend is a police officer. Did I mention that? Well, Mr. Officer really cannot seem to get enough of me. He's a little over the top. And by a little, I mean a lot. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Here is a sampling of texts I've received from him in the past seven days:</span><br /><br />"Yeah I have nothing better to do but text girls! Oh yea, forgot I only wanted to text ONE girl. YOU."<br /><br />"I got no problem working for it! All I asked for was a shot!"<br /><br />"Sweet dreams, I am looking forward to a date and glad I got to meet you."<br /><br />"Have a great day beautiful!"<br /><br />"Just wanted to say hi, thinking of you!"<br /><br />"Remember that girl from the bar the other day? She got a tattoo of me cause I am her hero."<br /><br />"Well, this big deal is off to the grocery store! I am looking forward to taking you out and workin' my game in person."<br /><br />"Listen Woman! I don't have a lot of time, hockey is on and so are the Yankees so slow your roll down there! I know it's hard to focus, you will see me soon enough."<br /><br />"Have fun! Don't be afraid to tell me how we will rock!"<br /><br />"Enjoy, sweet dreams. Wish I was able to see you sooner than later."<br /><br />"You and me some drinks the smell of the fire and my mix tape. I might get the courage to lean in for a kiss. HA."<br /><br />"I'm so ready to buy you dinner."<br /><br />"Baby I have to deal with SO much stuff right now! Don't know how late you are up but want you to know that I am thinking about you and am glad that i met you."<br /><br />"Morning baby! Hope you get to rock that smile in the sun! "<br /><br />"Wish I was your pool boy delivering you drinks..."<br /><br />"I am 209lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal! Come on girl you know you laughed a little!"<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I would type all of my responses but I don't have time for that and frankly, I don't respond to each text. I am NOT encouraging these types of texts though, let me assure you. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">What can we learn from his texts thus far?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">-He called me "woman". Something that, if you really know me, you will NEVER, EVER, EVER do. Nor would you refer to any other woman as "woman."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">-He is a Yankees fan. (bleh.)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">-He has started calling me "baby". I am, in no way shape or form, "baby". I know some people use it as a term of endearment and the first time someone EVER called me "babe" I was a little flattered, (I was also a junior in high school, so...) but I don't "do" terms of endearment so much. I have a name... use it.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-64933549362282308582010-05-14T11:15:00.002-04:002010-05-14T11:17:38.179-04:00D's Response<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">My friend, D, always gives me a hard time about not updating my blog enough. OKAY D, pretty sure you had a rockin' blog for a hot minute that hasn't been updated since, ohhhh... you know... LAST MAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Anyway. After reading my last blog post I received this from her in my inbox:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> dont look that cute today. at all. your blog? you need to set an age limit to like 31. a person approaching 40 who is divorced has NOTHING in common with you. why buy damaged goods? divorced= either made a bad decision or is a douchebag as my kids would say and neither is a good choice. tell him to take a hike. </span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-72900686091922006372010-05-13T20:26:00.002-04:002010-05-13T21:12:02.267-04:00A Habitual Problem<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I think about what I want to write...ALL THE TIME. While I'm at school, while I'm working out, while I'm in the shower and then I get here, open up my laptop and?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">...</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">...</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">this is what I get. It's so frustrating. I've GOT to start writing these ideas down. I promise they're not all totally lame. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I guess I can start with last weekend. I was home for a variety of reasons and ended up at the bar (GO FIGURE) Saturday afternoon at three. I wasn't drinking (yet) before you assume that I'm a complete lush (which I usually am), and it was just the regular crew of boys in there. Including Jax. Who would like nothing more than to get back together. But that's beside the point. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">This unfamiliar guy (man) came in, sat down and started visiting with us. It was clear that he was very much "in" the group- - they all knew the same people and the same stories - - BUT I had never met him. Which, honestly, is unusual. I spend enough time there that people, even if we haven't met, at least look familiar. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">After about twenty minutes of them chatting he came and sat next to me. It was getting a little weird because we were all talking together and I had NO idea who he was so I used the opportunity to introduce myself.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We chatted for a while, then my parents and sister came down and he moved to the other side of the bar. We didn't see each other again for the rest of the night but he did stop by on his way out t0 say that it was nice to meet me.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Then? He got home and sent me a Facebook message. And has sent about 498 messages/texts since then. He is CONVINCED that I'd be a great girl to date.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I'm not necessarily ruling it out, TOTALLY, but he has a little bit of a reputation, is divorced (WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND DIVORCED GUYS LATELY?!?!? IS THIS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TURN 25??? YOU'RE DESTINED TO FIND SOMEONE WHO'S ALREADY BEEN MARRIED?!?! GOD!!!!!!!!), runs in the same social circle as Jax, and is 39. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I know. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">He'd like to take me out on a date the next time I'm home, but I'm not quite sure... in some of his text messages he refers to me as, "woman" and? I'm SO not down with that. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">To add fuel to my (non)dating fire one of Coach's (remember him?) very, very good friends came out for a drink later that night to celebrate my new job. What a sweet guy, huh? He immediately inquired about my status with Coach as they had spent the last weekend golfing together and knew that he had texted me the whole weekend. We sort of talked about things and he said, "Listen M, you are an amazing girl. Really. And you and Coach five years ago would have been perfect. You and Coach IN five years, would be perfect. You and Coach right now? NOT going to work? He's a mess, he doesn't know what he wants and he's a REAL asshole. You're too good for and you don't have time for this shit."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">And... for one of the first times in my life, I completely agreed. As much as I like(d) Coach and would have like(d) something to work out. I don't have the time or patience in my life for guys like that. The old Me would have spent hours rationalizing how I'm the perfect girl and, of course it will work- - it's ME, but I've moved on from that. I think. I hope. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I also hope though, that I'm not destined to only get asked out by 34+ men who have one failed marriage under their belts. I'd like something, well... just something normal.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">HA.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-20535231245385254252010-05-03T13:10:00.003-04:002010-05-03T13:18:18.360-04:00On Love and Luck<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I spent the weekend with my parents as they came to visit for a few days. My dad hasn't been since we moved INTO our apartment and my mom hasn't been since late October so it was fun to have them around show them all of our favorite places. Also, with my sister moving to a new apartment and me moving to Vermont we got a little bit of a jump-start on the moving process. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I know everyone probably feels like their parents are THE BEST, and they are probably REALLY great, but my parents? Are above and beyond normal greatness. They arrived late Thursday night and woke up when Sister 2 and I headed to work. My dad and I grabbed coffee at Dunkin' Donuts then we left for school and my parents headed to Greenwich to pick up a couch I had purchased on Craig's List. They drove it back to my apartment and brought it upstairs. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">They met us at school for lunch, Mystery Bag and Poetry Cafe. They do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING that we need them to without even CARING. We shopped, my dad got a new cell phone, we went out to dinner(s) and breakfast and then, as the weekend was nearing it's end they helped me pack their car with everything I was sending home, drove it home, and unpacked it when they got there.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Most of my friends/family are responsible for all of this stuff by themselves. I am so grateful to have parents who really don't mind helping us out. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">And? They were the last ones standing with me at the bar Saturday night. Then, we ordered a 6pack of Mic Ultra back to the room.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Seriously. My parents rock.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-46392655972921948492010-04-29T10:04:00.003-04:002010-04-29T10:09:17.580-04:00Are You There Vodka?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGyEkC3053kUIFWi3jlEtdFglTwPwNxlihT2bMZTDiqGvuqGhOqUmk9ubTLUI64qksBOCmeqNwo2EVWV6SFHAE5gT2HrlVGGct2qndWzSprfSuKrgvx7vSAf_DYjz0Qe-UnC2/s1600/Chelsea"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGGyEkC3053kUIFWi3jlEtdFglTwPwNxlihT2bMZTDiqGvuqGhOqUmk9ubTLUI64qksBOCmeqNwo2EVWV6SFHAE5gT2HrlVGGct2qndWzSprfSuKrgvx7vSAf_DYjz0Qe-UnC2/s320/Chelsea" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465561282483455762" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I had a few hours to kill on Tuesday afternoon so I popped into the local bookstore and picked up a couple of fun reads. I haven't been reading much lately, but one of them, I COULD NOT PUT DOWN. Seriously, I finished it in one day. </span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I actually don't find Chelsea THAT funny in "real" life or on tv and I don't often watch her show, but I laughed out loud while reading this book MANY times.</span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">If you're looking for a great summer/easy read. This one's for you.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-34904167321494533852010-04-25T01:13:00.000-04:002010-04-25T01:14:53.512-04:00A Day in the Life<p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">The past twenty-four hours have been some of the most awesome I’ve had in a while.<span style=""> </span>Best friend D and I had to take the Praxis II (a CT/VT teacher certification test) this morning but we had a half day at school yesterday so we decided that we could take advantage of the early afternoon and head out for happy hour while still getting home at a reasonable time to rest for the test.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">HA!</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">That’s me laughing in yesterday’s naive face.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">We should have known better.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">It started out innocently enough with one beer in an hour, a cheese board from Ginger Man and some perusal of the testing materials.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then we ordered another beer.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then we started dialing our friends.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then we ordered a pizza.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then one of our friends met us out.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then we ordered another beer.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">And another.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">And sweet potato fries.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">And a pulled chicken quesadilla.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">And another beer.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Do you see where this is going?</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Next thing I know we’re at the loft, wearing matching black and white fedoras we borrowed from two guys we met at the bar, DJ headphones on setting up an awesome playlist, and running the dance floor.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">It’s an exhausting life we lead.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">We made it home around midnight just in time to brush my teeth, drunk dial a few (11) people and lay down for the 5:45am alarm to go off.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Remember that test we had this morning?</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Yea…we had to be there at 7:30am.<span style=""> </span>Yikes.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">You know that I am completely OCD so we arrived thirty minutes early and got situated in our room.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">We’ve taken three tests in New York for teaching certification and the difference between these tests were incredible.<span style=""> </span>New York is like a well-oiled machine who doesn’t give a F*ck WHO YOU ARE.<span style=""> </span>They yell at you, treat you like idiots (to be fair, it’s mostly warranted- - you should SEE the people there), and then spit you out like last night’s beer you drank by mistake.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Connecticut is all sunshine and rainbows but completely unmanageable because of the lack of organization and incompetent proctors.<span style=""> </span>It took the women in charge FIFTY-THREE minutes to hand out the tests and sign us in.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I wish I was kidding.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">So, because Connecticut is sunshine and rainbows (and madly infuriating) D and I were assigned to the same room where we could choose our own seats.<span style=""> </span>OUR OWN SEATS!<span style=""> </span>And they requested that we sit near each other!<span style=""> </span>The proctor hands us our exams and we look down to start reading- - there in a BOLD BOX is the text, “Calculators are permitted for the math section of this exam.”</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">WHAT?</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">We had not been notified that calculators were allowed.<span style=""> </span>Typically NO ELECTRONIC DEVICES ARE PERMITTED.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">NONE.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I asked the proctor if she had an extra calculator.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">No luck.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">So?<span style=""> </span>We spent the next sixty minutes feverishly computing math by HAND.<span style=""> </span>Seriously.<span style=""> </span>I was doing long division in the margins. </p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">When those unbearable 120 minutes were over we were STARVING so we headed to a local diner, then to my apartment so I could regroup.<span style=""> </span>Then?<span style=""> </span>We headed to Greenwich to see the Tall Ships.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I’ve been looking forward to seeing the Tall Ships all week.<span style=""> </span>I love the water, I love boats, I love special events like this.<span style=""> </span>We I had originally asked D if she wanted to come with me she responded, “Tall Ships?<span style=""> </span>I don’t know what that is.”</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">She can give me a hard time all she wants for never having been on a sailboat but at least I know what the damn TALL SHIPS are!</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Turns out part of the Tall Ships event is a fair complete with games, rides and fried dough. <span style=""> </span>D suggested that we go on one.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I am a (semi) risk taker and have always loved rides.<span style=""> </span>However, I have not actually BEEN on a ride?<span style=""> </span>Well, I don’t think since high school honestly.<span style=""> </span>Let me tell you, that ride was like jumping off a cliff.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">SCARY.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">INVIGORATING.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">SUPER FUN.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I’m NOT kidding.<span style=""> </span>We were the only two on the ride except for two ten year old boys.<span style=""> </span>We laughed and screamed the ENTIRE time.<span style=""> </span>I had to close my eyes and I couldn’t even control the noises that were coming out of my mouth. “Whoooooeeeeeee!”<span style=""> </span>“Eeeeeeee.” At one point D turned to me and said, “WHAT are you SAYING?!!?”</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I have no idea.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I felt like a rockstar.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">We were laughing so hard by the time the ride ended we had tears streaming down our cheeks.<span style=""> </span>It wasn’t that anything was THAT particularly funny, it was the ride.<span style=""> </span>We had made it. </p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then, we hopped down out of our chair.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I felt like I had been at sea for seven days; my legs were wobbly, my head was spinning and I couldn’t walk in a straight line.<span style=""> </span>We sat down to rest on a bench overlooking the harbor and we soaked up the rays for an hour.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">It was incredible.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">It’s days (nights) like this that are going to make it hard to pack up and leave Connecticut.<span style=""> </span>I’m just glad I’ve still got a few memories left to make.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">(on a side note I drunkenly gave some guy my number at the bar last night.<span style=""> </span>No, I’ll never learn.<span style=""> </span>And he ACTUALLY CALLED ME TODAY.<span style=""> </span>I’m not interested but this is the FIRST time that I’ve been here that a guy has ACTUALLY called after I’ve given them my number.)</p>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-77608303342271507592010-04-21T07:33:00.003-04:002010-04-21T07:36:53.170-04:00Over It<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I have reached the point in the year where I am just. OVER. IT. I'm over everything. I'm ready to pack up the apartment, move home, be in summer-mode...I'm ready to relax.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I love my kids, and I love my job, I am just ready for that next point. To move on, to get acclimated in my new school, and to be in a new place.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I have also ordered an attitude adjustment for this morning. I'm hoping it arrives.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-23417350356207358442010-04-20T11:47:00.002-04:002010-04-20T12:21:28.100-04:00Givin' it Up<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I gave up shopping for Lent. Did I tell you that? I did. I used to be a SHOP-A-HOLIC. Honestly. I would just shop, shop, shop, shop, shop. I scaled back a little after college, and then SERIOUSLY scaled back when I moved to Connecticut because, let's be honest, making less than $20,000/year and putting yourself through graduate school while managing to not default on any loans and still contribute to a retirement account does NOT exactly leave a lot of money leftover in the budget. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">AT ALL.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">When Lent came around I thought about giving up dessert (HA!), or drinking (HA!HA!) or even diet coke, but shopping seemed like a more reasonably option. It would save me some money, I really don't NEED anything, and it would be kind of easy.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">My sister, M, Sister 2 is basically the exact opposite of me. Well, we're either exactly the same or exactly opposite. Does that make sense? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We're opposite in regards to shopping.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I do.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">She doesn't.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">So when we ventured out this weekend on a little shopping spree, me to celebrate lent being over and having a real job lined up for the fall and her to celebrate ordering a vacation to West Palm and getting it, I didn't know what to expect.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Well...shop we did. For two days. It was amazing. We had so much fun and our friend D joined us and we were all in dressing rooms at the same time laughing, trying on clothes, gossiping, it was just like a scene out of a movie.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Sister 2 had a "look" she was going for in particular so the latter part of our shopping experience was trying to find white jeans. We looked at Gap and J Crew but didn't find anything with fit she was looking for.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We decided to try Banana Republic on our way home. In the back of the store they had a stack of 7 pairs of white jeans. We held them up. She didn't love them but I encouraged her to try them on. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">She tried them on, turning from left to right, she wondered if they were too see-through. She stepped out of the dressing room to look in the large mirror. A woman was waiting for her daughter to try some things on and glanced up, "those look wonderful on you," she said, "what size are you?"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Sister 2 looked down at the tag, "Oh. 26waist, 00." </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">REALLY. a DOUBLE ZERO. HONEST TO GOD.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We stood in line to buy the jeans and we left with them in a small shopping bag. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">That would have fit ONE pair of my underwear.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Not Sister 2 though. She got a whole dang pair of jeans in there.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">If I didn't like her so much, I'd REALLY hate her.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-91994062312670236562010-04-19T07:36:00.000-04:002010-04-19T07:37:54.676-04:00Dreams<p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I’m not one who over analyzes horoscopes or dreams but last night I had such a vivid dream it’s hard not to think about it a little.<span style=""> </span>I took a small sailboat (I have NEVER been on a sailboat in my entire life) with my sisters and some family members across the ocean (that was in an enclosed building) to a glass building in the middle.<span style=""> </span>The idea was that you could go down in the building and see all of the marine life.<span style=""> </span>We had just gotten inside when we saw the first animal.<span style=""> </span>An orca.<span style=""> </span>It was amazingly beautiful and just crested through the swell of wave.<span style=""> </span>Then we saw another one.<span style=""> </span>And another one.<span style=""> </span>And another one. <span style=""> </span>Before we knew it I counted 22 orcas surrounded the building, swimming around.<span style=""> </span>Then?<span style=""> </span>It was like a flip switched and they all started to brush against the building.<span style=""> </span>Then run into the building and they continued to ram the building until the glass was shattered and water was pouring into it.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Then I woke up.</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Strange, right?</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">And I haven’t even watched Free Willy lately.<span style=""> </span>Promise.</p>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com79tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-38626885614110210582010-04-17T07:38:00.003-04:002010-04-17T07:39:11.804-04:00Miles to go Before I Sleep<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqI-SMkXM2CxZbmXtioxsOS2M33OinW8cK1slhWf9FkT_RQlYB7LDKLVuJfTMYRHT4TUIjN2BIMbY9iEoh2va73mMWJGo5jF_Lm7CcNqDydY2hzwRG3v9hsNqMq4F_gS3wL3w/s1600/IMG_5612.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqI-SMkXM2CxZbmXtioxsOS2M33OinW8cK1slhWf9FkT_RQlYB7LDKLVuJfTMYRHT4TUIjN2BIMbY9iEoh2va73mMWJGo5jF_Lm7CcNqDydY2hzwRG3v9hsNqMq4F_gS3wL3w/s320/IMG_5612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461069533432695410" border="0" /></a><br /><p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Today I had my longest run to date- - 20 miles.<span style=""> </span>I know!<span style=""> </span>I’m sitting on the couch now and I ache and it’s a little hard to go down the stairs, but overall?<span style=""> </span>I feel pretty fantastic.<span style=""> </span>If I had any doubt about my ability to actually do this- - to run 26.2 miles- - I think I can safely say it’s quelled.<span style=""> </span>This was probably my slowest run yet (roughly 9 min/mile) but I have to expect that as the distances increase my time will decrease.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">That IS how it works, RIGHT?!?</p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">I wish I there was someway I could record my stream of thought while I’m out running because I’m never sure exactly how I get to certain inner monologues and honestly, it’s kind of fascinating.<span style=""> </span>I was running for 2 hours and 45 minutes today.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">PLENTY of time to cover a WHOLE LOT of topics in my head.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">What I like the most though is when I’m so absorbed in thought that I don’t think about the act of running- - putting one foot in front of the other, how my right knee pulsates every time I step, how my outer foot bones and big left toe ache or how I’d give ANYTHING to trade places with the windsurfers in the water.<span style=""> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">That’s definitely one thing I thought about today.<span style=""> </span>As I rounded the corner and the beach came into full view I saw four people standing erect on top of the water, pulling on the strings of their sail to catch the best wind.<span style=""> </span>At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to give my body to the wind, to let it take me wherever it wanted, to be weightless for a moment. </p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);" class="MsoNormal">Instead, I took a deep breath of salt air, relished in the beauty of the ocean and the area that I live, and put one foot, once again, in front of the other.</p>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-54975553175235532692010-04-16T07:43:00.002-04:002010-04-16T07:45:25.539-04:00G-Chatting with a Friend<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Discussing his weekend plans...</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">"I'll have to go out and find some girl with good looks and little morals tonight."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">HA. I love my friends.</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-64522366914132680562010-04-16T07:38:00.001-04:002010-04-16T07:39:44.021-04:003rd Grade Geometry<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Directions: Draw a shape that has 6 angles. Draw as many triangles as you can inside.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Student: "Wait. Does angle mean point? Or line?"</span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-82088562880674554882010-04-15T22:12:00.003-04:002010-04-15T22:14:24.309-04:00Next Weekend<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I have babysitting jobs lined up for the next few weekends but a family asked me to babysit for the ENTIRE weekend next weekend. I have a test and another commitment so I asked my sister if she was interested in helping me out. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Her response?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">"Oh! Next weekend?!? I'd love to! but... J" (the NON boyfriend...), "and I are heading to West Palm Beach! You should come!"</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Uhhhhhhhh. REALLY?!?!? </span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31964652.post-89345983207484968462010-04-14T20:23:00.003-04:002010-04-14T20:59:39.695-04:00Soul Mate vs Mate<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I've always been a hopeless romantic. Not so much in that I thought Prince Charming would swoop through town on a white horse, throw me on the back, and gallop me off into the sunset... more like, the man of my dreams would find me when I wasn't even looking, sweep me off of my feet, and the rest? Would be history.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">See the difference? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The funny thing is, I can only define "man of my dreams" broadly. I'd like to think that this will increase my chances of actually finding someone but I also think it might send me in directions that aren't always the best. My friend D would agree with this whole heartedly. She feels that there are certain guys I'm willing to entertain the thought of dating that I should automatically say no to. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">For me, there really is no automatic "No". </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">And, if I'm going to be honest, I can picture myself marrying *many* of the guys in my life right now. How ridiculous is that? I'm PRETTY convinced that I haven't yet met the person I will spend the rest of my life yet, BUT... if I HAD to marry someone I've met- - I would be okay with that. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Is that crazy? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I know some people believe in soul mates and maybe, in certain instances, that's true. Like the two people who accidentally bump into each other at a coffee shop and then end up married the next month, or the couple who gave up on love individually until they were both doing laundry at 9pm on a Friday night then lived happily ever after.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">For me though- - I think you just find a mate. Someone who is at the same place in time that you are, who wants the same things, who you can love, who you can live with. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I just happen to be compatible with a lot of people. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Did I REALLY just type that?!?!?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">My best friends and sisters (and ex-boyfriends) may say that I am NOT. That I am actually, generally INCOMPATIBLE, but I don't think that's true. When I think of the guys that I've dated recently and not-so-recently I can see a life with them. It wouldn't be perfect, but what relationship is?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Although, I have to admit each time I date someone I learn a little bit more about myself and what I want out of a relationship which, I GUESS means, I'm not doing this whole thing for NOTHING. </span>P in VThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14103394232753949222noreply@blogger.com0