tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29971519632417084352024-03-18T19:45:21.554-07:00Notes to SelfObservations on the highs and lows of life and all the absurdities in betweenlittle ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.comBlogger399125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-88237298492909276332012-02-15T10:26:00.000-08:002012-02-15T10:32:05.440-08:00Sea-Doos, Krazy Glue, and That There Fiddling BusinessMy Grandpa lived an extraordinary life. Known by many for his adventurous entrepreneurial spirit, there is no doubt that his success in business is very noteworthy and from that we can all learn myriad lessons. However, it is not from his public ventures that I've gleaned the most important lessons from Grandpa. Nope. Some of the most poignant life lessons I learned from him came from what might be considered regular everyday interactions, but Grandpa had a certain way about him that made those regular everyday interactions uniquely his.<br />
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Of all the memories made and lessons learned, I've managed to boil it down to the four most important ones:<br />
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<strong>Lesson #1: Love the life you live, or "Put on your life jackets, we're going out on the Sea-Doo!"</strong><br />
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If you knew Grandpa, you know that he lived his life to the absolute fullest. Did he ever have a bad day? I'm sure there might have been a few sprinkled here and there, yet if there were I certainly don't remember them. He filled his life with his passions which filled his days with things he loved to do. I'll always remember the time about 12 years ago when a number of us were at the cabin and we were going to take the Sea-Doos out on the reservoir and he wanted join us for a bit. We put on our life jackets and headed down to the water. my friend and I hopped on one of the Sea-Doos and Grandpa and two of my other cousins on the other. We were going to be daredevils out there, but Grandpa just wanted to go out for a few minutes to take in the views and the sunshine. I'll never forget the sight across the reservoir of him driving that Sea-Doo in his Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and button-down collared shirt under his life jacket, with my cousins holding on to each other behind him in their swimsuits. They didn't have to hold on too tightly because Grandpa actually got "pulled over" by the boating police for going too slow. But what did he care, he was doing what he wanted and was loving every minute of it. Life's too short not to do that. Figure out what you want to be doing and then do that. Love the life your living every day of it.<br />
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<strong>Lesson #2: You are more resilient than you think you are, or "Glue that tooth back in and get back to the party."</strong><br />
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I consider myself a pretty tough girl and I have to attribute my ability to bounce back from hard knocks, or never shying away from a worthy challenge to Grandpa. I've mentioned this before: Grandpa was very leery of people wanting to scam you for all you're worth, and in his mind the worst offenders? Dentists. Orthodontia, periodontics, all of that is just one big racket designed to take his money. A few Christmases back, Grandpa had been suffering from a toothache and ultimately his tooth fell out. What did he do? (you know the answer is NOT call a dentist) He Krazy glued that freaking tooth right back into place and got himself back out to that party. Now, Internets, I'm neither condoning nor recommending Krazy glue as a treatment plan (I happen to believe wholeheartedly in regular check-ups and cleanings, which I'm sure means I'm bank-rolling this whole dental practice racket), but I am saying that some times you just need to take a deep breath, glue your tooth back into place and get yourself back to that party. Whenever you were feeling like you couldn't catch a break, or life was just giving you more than you could handle, you could always count on Grandpa to be there in your corner encouraging you to dust yourself off, suck it up, and throw yourself back into things. There wasn't any room for self-pity, just glue yourself back together (sometimes literally) and go out and try your best. He was a living example of resiliency.<br />
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<strong>Lesson #3: Seek out opportunities to be great, or "There's money in that there fiddlin' business!"</strong><br />
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One summer when I was in high school, I went up to Grandma and Grandpa's to see Garth Brooks play at Frontier Days. Grandpa and Grandma also went to the show and the next morning at breakfast Grandpa was raving about the band, in particular the fiddler. <br />
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"There's money in that there fiddling business!" he said to me in his serious, low, rumbly voice. <br />
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He may have been trying to plant a seed with me, perhaps that I should consider a future of professional fiddling. Alas, I did not become a great fiddler, I've actually never picked up a fiddle. However, the seed he did plant with me was that this world is full of opportunities to be great and that it was up to me to seek those out for myself. As it turns out, there's money in a lot of businesses as long as you can find out what you love to do and do it to the best of your ability. I will tell you this, every time I hear a fiddle I think about him and think about the life full of future opportunities for me to be great.<br />
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<strong>Lesson #4: Dream big, work hard, and make it happen, or "Now you go in there tomorrow and make us proud!"</strong><br />
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I've carried this lesson with me every day of my life. I can't attribute it all to Grandpa, but I can say that it's definitely a legacy of his that lives on in me. I know I've written before about how I haven't always been crystal clear on a single dream for my whole life, but when I am inspired by a dream, a big challenging goal, I'll work my hardest, and then a little bit harder to make it happen.<br />
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Seven years ago, I left a career in higher education to pursue my dream job in the business world. It was an extremely difficult transition and there were a lot of naysayers out there who tried to tell me it couldn't be done. But I stayed persistent and always believed I'd be able to make it happen, even when every door seemed to be shutting in my face. When I finally did find that dream role, I called Grandma and Grandpa the night before the interview. What Grandpa said to me right before we hung up has lived in my heart every day since, "Now you go in there tomorrow and make us proud, Kath-a-leen."<br />
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And that's what I try to do. Every day. Because of you, Grandpa, I keep my dreams big, I work as hard as I can, and I'm making it happen--all the while so you and all of my loved ones can be proud.<br />
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Grandpa, I will always love you and will forever live these lessons and pass them on to my own children and grandchildren someday. My voice may be less rumbly, but you will certainly be speaking through me to the future generations of our family. And I'll try my hardest to someday get us a fiddler in the family.little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-49935082716485515012012-02-14T16:19:00.000-08:002012-02-14T16:19:31.480-08:00A Valentine's Day Aspiration<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I realized something this morning. My grandparents were married for 72 years, my other grandparents have been married for around that long as well, and my parents have been married for 36 years. That's A LOT of Valentine's Days together (and when you really think about it, that's just a lot of normal days together, too. But given it's that oh-so-special Hallmark holiday today, we'll just go for the v-day count).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, here's the realization: I've never had the same Valentine twice. Ever. That is fascinating to me. And in honor of cupid on his special day I'll go ahead and say this: I really want to break that streak with Mr. W.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I love him. And he loves me. And life is good. Here's to the first of hopefully many Hallmark holidays we spend together.</span><br />
<br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-60455291763164043752012-02-12T19:58:00.000-08:002012-02-12T19:58:45.071-08:00Six-word Sunday: February 12, 2012<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was a really tough week.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm wiping away the tears, gathering my thoughts, dealing with the shock of reality, missing my family so far away, and hoping for peace.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">On Friday evening, February 10, my Grandpa passed away. He was a great man who lived a great life, and still I'm struggling with the hole his passing leaves in my heart. I know it's not common to be 34 and still have all four of your grandparents, but I was that uncommon 34-year-old, and losing Grandpa is taking it's toll and teaching me lessons I hadn't had to learn up to this point in my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All weekend, memories have unearthed themselves from the space in my soul where they've been buried for safe-keeping. I'm working on a little tribute for Grandpa as reflecting on his life has made me realize he's been extremely influential in me being who I am. And because writing them is the best way I can memorialize all that he meant, and continues to mean, to me, I'll post that here.</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Note to self: Share your love and gratitude while you can!</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And as I've made it through this weekend (with the love and support from my family at a distance and from Mr. W closer to home), I'm celebrating the life Grandpa led and how that life allows me to live the life I'm living. The tears are drying, the thoughts crystallizing; reality's sinking in--I'm still missing my family but will be with them soon--and the peace is coming and will wrap itself around me as I continue to move through my life and strive to make it as great as Grandpa's, which is what he wanted most of all for his family.</span><br />
<br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-501344117105703802012-02-07T00:37:00.000-08:002012-02-07T00:37:36.474-08:00Hexes and Subways<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pJI0eqqoS4YbhnI0tdZtdhEQlt57fDCOE04zR9olnoSRycFeEavikn6SiGdzjym34SUg9yssEcbFEnTVB5tjvivK9DDuA8wcBWggXu1e-Xk8MiwPmg5CKg4p4C4jnPV0oeshXjxAQQNU/s1600/Tile9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3pJI0eqqoS4YbhnI0tdZtdhEQlt57fDCOE04zR9olnoSRycFeEavikn6SiGdzjym34SUg9yssEcbFEnTVB5tjvivK9DDuA8wcBWggXu1e-Xk8MiwPmg5CKg4p4C4jnPV0oeshXjxAQQNU/s320/Tile9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Internets, I forgot how much I love and loathe home improvement projects. Love them because there is nothing more rewarding than playing a part in making your home into a space you love. Loathe them because holy hell, that's a lot of work!<br />
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I've hired out most of the work for this remodel and I couldn't be happier with that decision. However, I've saved some of the "fun" projects for myself. And thankfully, Mr. W is an avid renovator so together we tackled the tiling of my new bathroom (truth be told, we're still tackling it... but we should be finished this weekend).<br />
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Here's a sneak peek:<br />
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This is part of the shower. The easy part. As you can see, we have our work cut out for us on the angled part of the wall/roof. Yeah. Fun times ahead. The final shower walls and floor will be the last bit we do this weekend.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFs3-zD0N6dOp_WWp5l0TyDk6oKUwOgT3R9YDYmaIWwzgMXyqaf1EbfHJ8rngUWqGC81fHDCwu-Fp9eZRQT03YCGDocbIs8m5son3QMQn46riu4fXtmJQsjK3lml_epYzGjPTQP0elVEC0/s1600/Tile7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFs3-zD0N6dOp_WWp5l0TyDk6oKUwOgT3R9YDYmaIWwzgMXyqaf1EbfHJ8rngUWqGC81fHDCwu-Fp9eZRQT03YCGDocbIs8m5son3QMQn46riu4fXtmJQsjK3lml_epYzGjPTQP0elVEC0/s320/Tile7.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWj_hJ_ZKEKwuH-Qyv1LmxNZFtnkGa5K8sVxKw5EKMDvGrrRTirQbaGpuNy4ZyRbm39yYCfLedE3xWjQHgDatzWC8O_NtXQ-8eVVpU7cXdqSxP3mdX__GZSu_NoU0bWH6CRpVNbQNrzLD/s1600/Tile6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWj_hJ_ZKEKwuH-Qyv1LmxNZFtnkGa5K8sVxKw5EKMDvGrrRTirQbaGpuNy4ZyRbm39yYCfLedE3xWjQHgDatzWC8O_NtXQ-8eVVpU7cXdqSxP3mdX__GZSu_NoU0bWH6CRpVNbQNrzLD/s320/Tile6.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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How do you like them apples? Subway tile detail wall (left) and back splash for the vanity (right). And my cool floor. Just wait until everything is grouted. It's going to be fabulous.</div>
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Here you get a better view of the detail on the floor. Just a pattern I made up. The plan is to do the reverse pattern in the shower with the primary tiles black with white border and florets. <br />
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And here's where I recognize I'm perfectly imperfect. If a picture is worth a thousand words, this one is fully valued in F-Bombs. This is where I realized that I forgot about a row of white tiles and couldn't figure out why my pattern was misaligned. The fortunate thing is that nobody but you and I (and Mr. W) know about this, and also this part should be mostly covered or obscured from view by the toilet.</div>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-31475368275738638802012-02-05T23:48:00.000-08:002012-02-05T23:48:05.550-08:00Six-word Sunday: February 5, 2012<strong>Accelerated my relationship tiling all weekend.</strong><br />
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One of the best things about Mr. W is that he's into renovating homes. He and I took things to the next level (actually we probably skipped three levels and took it past the fourth one) by tackling a renovation project for the weekend. <br />
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In true LMNT fashion, I was unrealistically ambitious about what we could accomplish. That and after we cranked out priming, painting, and tiling a complete wall in what surely had to be a DIY world record and I commented on how we were the valedictorians of bathroom renovations, I most certainly jinxed us and we hit a few snags. The great news is we survived completely intact--I think we might even like each other more now. And even though we didn't barrel through everything on the list, we did do some mighty fine work.<br />
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I'm going to have a new bathroom soon (more details and pictures to be posted on domestikat... someday soon... you'll be the first to know when they are)!<br />
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(Note: I can't get my pictures to upload to Blogger... I'll post them when I can, but I'm an exhausted LMNT and need to get my beauty rest, in my living room turned studio apartment, more on that to come...).<br />
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Goodnight, Internets!little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-62934534930490602542012-01-30T21:58:00.000-08:002012-01-30T21:58:24.117-08:00Six-Word Sunday: January 29, 2012<strong>Dust, debris, and a master suite.</strong><br />
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I know it's Monday, going on Tuesday, but I didn't want to miss my six-word Sunday. I'm almost three weeks into a new home renovation (only this time, I'm paying to have someone do most of the work). It's time to blow the dust off of the other blog. I'll post pictures and comments there later this week.<br />
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Now I'm off to obsess over subway tile, and it's not the first time <a href="http://domestikat.blogspot.com/2008/06/ill-give-you-one-guess-at-what-i-spent.html" target="_blank">I've done that</a>...<br />
<br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-78731756727964578082012-01-23T23:11:00.000-08:002012-01-23T23:11:30.315-08:00BustedAh, the early stages of a relationship. Whether you're 34 or 14 some things never change. <br />
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To say I've been giddy about Mr. W is a huge understatement. I've reverted back to giggly little schoolgirl and it's fantastic. It's been a month (what a month it's been). A few weeks ago, my co-workers were teasing me about how smitten I am and how I've likely been distracted by practicing my signature with his last name all over my notebooks, just like many of us started doing with crushes back in our school days.<br />
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And until last week, I hadn't done that.<br />
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But then I was snowed in at a work event with plenty of time for daydreaming and plenty of paper for doodling. Before I knew it, I found myself scribbling his last name a few times on a random sheet of paper. "Ha ha," I thought. "My little secret. Nobody will know about this." Famous last words; if <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2012/01/love-is-wonderful-thing.html" target="_blank">Michael Bolton taught me anything</a>, it's that none of my little secrets ever stay secret.<br />
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Over the weekend, Mr. W was getting into my car and I noticed that my notebook from last week's event was strewn about the passenger seat. I told him to just throw it in the back and he just paused and looked at something on the page. I sat there thinking, "what the heck? Just throw it into the back seat already and let's go get hamburgers!" And he just looked at me and pointed to something written on the random sheet of paper that had fallen out of the notebook.<br />
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There it was--in beautiful cursive penmanship, I might add--his last name. I gasped, squirmed, and blushed crimson red. No denying it. I've got a crush and it's making me act like a 14-year-old. I fumbled for words to explain why his good family name was written on that sheet. He was gracious and I was adorably mortified, what would he think and would it freak him out?<br />
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And because he's great and is not too unlike the 14-year-old me who has a massive crush, he didn't freak out. In fact I think it might have even made him like me more. Which of course made me like him more. And that's where we jumped into the infinite loop of the virtuous giggly-little-schoolgirl cycle.little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-45278358326981219702012-01-22T11:31:00.000-08:002012-01-22T11:31:42.250-08:00Six-Word Sunday: January 22, 2012<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Survived snowmageddon at luxury mountain resort</strong>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If you live out here in the Pacific Northwest, or if you happened to watch the news at all this week, you'll know that we were hit with a significant blast of winter weather. Significant in Seattle is any amount of snow that sticks to the streets. This sums it up nicely:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Fortunately for LMNT, while most of the northwest got cabin fever hunkered down in their homes, I was coaching a leadership event at one of the most scenic local hotels situated in the hills East of Seattle atop a giant waterfall. If ever there was a place where you wanted to be snowed in, this is that place. Every room has a wood-burning fireplace and a view of the hills and the river valley filled with snow-covered pine trees. It was fantastic, until we lost power on the last day and suddenly the plot of <em>The Shining</em> didn't seem as far-fetched as it once had.</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-42018463351092429232012-01-15T23:00:00.000-08:002012-01-15T23:03:31.273-08:00Six-Word Sunday: January 15, 2012<strong>Manifesting something MUCH better than chocolate.</strong><br />
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So I've been at this blog for a little over four years now, and in that time I know I've written countless posts (countless because I've never been very diligent about adding tags) about my seemingly <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/03/elephants-mantra.html" target="_blank">endless search for Mr. Right.</a> In fact, my <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2007/10/is-it-sign.html" target="_blank">very first post</a> indirectly revolved around my search for him, or perhaps how that search had been cursed. Since then there have been a lot of Mr. So-Sos, Mr. Mediocres, and Mr. LMNT-What-Are-You-Thinkings: <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2007/10/replacements.html" target="_blank">Marinara Jar</a>, <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2008/02/treading-water.html" target="_blank">J_____</a> (known in my circle of friends as Cuff Links or Clinks for short), and <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2009/02/hello-drawing-board.html" target="_blank">New Friend</a> to name a few. <br />
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Then of course there was <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2009/04/getting-back-on-track.html" target="_blank">Mr. McMichael</a>. A Mr. Oh-so-very-close-but-not-exactly-right. Mr. McMichael helped me to <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2010/03/renewal.html" target="_blank">realize the possibility of amazing, loving, respectful, and authentic relationships.</a> He became the gold bar standard with which I began measuring all relationships. I know that who I am in relationship with a partner now is because of what I had with Mr. McMichael and I will forever love and respect him for that.<br />
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And as much as I do love the fact that I have a gold bar standard for relationships, it can also be a bit of a dating burden. As it turns out not a lot of people meet that standard and it can be really frustrating--deflating even--to keep putting yourself out there just to be disappointed again and again. But because it's what I do, I persisted (I also whined, cried, agonized, pulled-out-my-hair, and pretended to quit, multiple times with my close friends, but in the end I continued to persist). <br />
<br />
Back in November, I reactivated one of my online dating profiles with the intent of just getting myself out there again and holding on to the very faint (and rapidly diminishing) hope that I might actually meet someone interesting. The bitter single woman that lives inside my brain kept trying to convince me that I was really fighting a losing battle, but the optimistic, hopeful romantic that also lives inside my brain kept repeating that if I'm clear about my deepest desires and wants and I put them out into the Universe, then they will come to fruition. Ultimately, the bitter single woman remembered how good I am at manifesting things (remember <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2010/05/midas-touch.html" target="_blank">all of that chocolate</a>?!), so she cautiously conceded to optimism. And really, we all wanted to see her win.<br />
<br />
Online dating is a bit of a yo-yo. There are a lot of ups and downs, and while I was making some connections with guys, I'd meet up with them and would feel nothing. On paper they were great, but in person they weren't right. After a month of corresponding with and meeting really nice guys, but not really right guys (exactly like <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2008/01/where-to-begin.html" target="_blank">the guys I dated four years ago</a>) I was ready to call it quits and give it a break. In fact, I had already declared several "rules" for myself (as I'm wont to do) and my online dating protocol. For instance, I refused to look at any one's profile simply because they had looked at mine. If they checked me out and wanted anything to progress, then they were going to have to contact me because they needed to demonstrate they were interested. Closely tied to this was the rule that I was not going to make the first move and e-mail anyone. Being the direct girl I am, I would do that often and only had about a 10% response rate, so forget it. Mr. Right needed to put in the effort, because I was tired.<br />
<br />
Ah, but the Universe (not unlike the<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg" target="_blank"> honey badger</a>) didn't really care about my rules, because apparently it also wanted to see optimism win.<br />
<br />
A couple of days before I was taking off for Christmas in Denver, I was online e-mailing one of those really-nice-not-really-right-guys (yes, I was following my rule because he had contacted me first), and when I hit send, the service populated a list of three guys that they suggested I might like. I read the teaser headline for the first guy, was hooked and had to read more. I opened up his profile and was astonished that I was reading the profile of what seemed to be the person I've pined so long for on this blog (and even longer for in my life). It was sarcastic, hilarious, articulate, and familiar. Bitter single woman thought, "Too good to be true." But optimistic romantic overpowered her with her Arseneo Hall-style whooping and a big, "I told you he was out there!"<br />
<br />
But what was I to do? There are rules, LMNT; rules that you yourself decreed. I decided that I would e-mail him, but not in a way that really let him know I was interested, because the odds were he wouldn't respond (nice work, bitter single woman). So I kept the note very short and to the point (but witty as hell), and basically said: "your profile is unique and interesting. Congratulations. I respect that. Have a good night." I hit send and never expected to hear anything back.<br />
<br />
He responded within two hours.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a month and something amazing is happening here. I'm happier, more confident, more vibrant, and more glowy (yes, glowy), than I ever have been before. And because of all of the previous learning experiences I've had with relationships, and because I'm more clear than ever on what I want and desire in my life, I feel more prepared to throw myself into the amazingness and see what continues to happen. As I admitted to him in a recent e-mail: "Over the past couple of years, I've definitely had walls up and have been cautious about getting to the point where I throw myself into the fire, and this time is different. You make me feel safe enough to do that, in fact, you make me want to do that because it's the only way I want to experience this--feeling it 100% and also feeling confident about me, you, and us."<br />
<br />
So things are good and you'll likely hear more as the amazingness continues. And ever since I've met him, I've been dying to find the right time to blurt all of this out and have also been desperate to come up with a solid code name, because that's really important. After toying with a few (the Prophet, Snowhawk), I've landed on a somewhat clever one that also plays on the fact that he's a high school teacher (Internets, join me in a collective swoon). Please allow me to introduce Mr. Wright, but we'll call him Mr. W for short.<br />
<br />
And that's the story of how I persist and manifest. Mr. W, thank you for (unknowingly) <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/03/elephants-mantra.html" target="_blank">answering this call</a>. And also, you are infinitely better than <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2010/05/manifest-hostesstiny.html" target="_blank">Donnettes</a>!<br />
<br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-66739734004425333912012-01-13T16:45:00.000-08:002012-01-13T16:45:00.483-08:00Ninja Garage Sale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now I know that my neighborhood isn't every one's dream neighborhood, but over the past few years I have really grown to love it's quirkiness. From </span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/gangster-20.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">tech-geek gangsters</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> to </span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/cock-doodle-dont.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">grand pappy rooster</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> (okay, I never loved that damn rooster), the neighborhood is never boring.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There's this apartment building across the street from my house, and on unseasonably sunny and warm weekends this past fall and early winter, one of the residents has taken to pulling extremely random items out of his apartment and the trunk of his Cadillac and sets up his own little "sidewalk sale" of sorts in the middle of everything. Items I'd consider random: velvet paintings, a zero gravity lawn chair, and a spring horse not too unlike this one:</span><br />
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<a href="http://ts1.mm.bing.net/thumb/get?bid=5N8PvfUb2lvR1A&bn=CC&fbid=7wIR63%2bClmj%2b0A&fbn=CC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img alt="42" Wonder Horse Spring Horse with Lifelike Tail from Hedstrom" border="0" height="360" src="http://ts1.mm.bing.net/thumb/get?bid=5N8PvfUb2lvR1A&bn=CC&fbid=7wIR63%2bClmj%2b0A&fbn=CC" style="margin-top: 5px;" title="42" Wonder Horse Spring Horse with Lifelike Tail from Hedstrom" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Viewed alone those items aren't so strange (well, except for the velvet paintings), but collectively they really make up a strange lot. And I could probably end my story there, but Internets, that's not where the weirdness ends. No. You see, what makes it even more strange is the fact that the proprietor of all this stuff will pace back-and-forth on the sidewalk waiting for customers all the while swinging nunchucks. Yes. Nunchucks. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, I have never had a garage sale of my own, but I can't imagine that practice really drives up business. And come to think of it, I've never seen him sell anything (except one encounter which I think wasn't a velvet painting, but possibly narcotics, oh, the neighborhood), but who can say if the slumping sales are due to his not-so-in-demand inventory or his martial arts skills?</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-53356559074380138052012-01-07T18:44:00.000-08:002012-01-07T18:44:09.628-08:00Love IS a Wonderful Thing<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh, Internets. Remember when AP and I went <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/second-helping-of-cheese.html">shopping under the influence</a>
last spring? And remember how I bought a whole bunch of cassette tapes for $0.25?
Yeah, okay, it’s going to come into play in a couple of
paragraphs.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Earlier this week, I had a random series of events
that all culminated in the most humiliating, or maybe awesome, event thus far
into 2012. It all started when I was driving home from work last night and I
realized I had a few of my tapes stored in the passenger-side door of my car.
Upon closer inspection, one tape in particular stood out: Michael Bolton's "Time, Love, and Tenderness." Now, the reason I think I noticed this particular tape is because a few hours prior to my drive, a new fellow in my life admitted to me the cheesiest concert he'd ever been to. And because, I hadn't yet responded to him with a concert of my own I think the tape was the Universe calling out to me as a reminder. Because, oh yeah, I've been to not one, but two Michael Bolton concerts. But seriously, Michael Bolton was a big part of my tweener years, mostly because of my parents' fandom. In fact, I think I'll save more Michael Bolton stories for a whole post of their own. An ode to the long-haired crooner.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, I admit to the new fellow that I have him beat on the cheesy concert front and all is well--he still likes me! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The next morning, I get in my car to drive to work, and there's that tape calling out to me it's siren's call. "Fine," I think, and put it into the Jetta's tape player. Holy Junior High flashback, Batman! Instantly, I'm taken back in time and amazingly I remember ALL of the words, and that's not embarrassing in the slightest (at least not in the privacy of my own car). There I am, in all my commuting glory, 100% jamming to Michael Bolton. I very distinctly have the thought, "I'm so glad that NOBODY will EVER know about this episode. Especially the new fellow, he's never going to know that I am singing this song as loudly as I can," as I hit rewind to replay "Steel Bars."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now, it should also be known that I'm taking a new route to work because the state has started a ridiculous toll on my old way to work. I'm still getting used to things and am starting to take back roads, and I turn onto one of those back roads and note the speed limit is 25 MPH, and think, okay, that's how fast I'll go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">But I'm jamming and singing, and before I know it, there's a cop on a motorcycle in my rear view mirror with his lights on, pulling me over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Faster than Michael Bolton can make a cougar throw her panties on stage, I turn my stereo off. No way is that cop going to know what I'm listening to. I've only been pulled over a couple of times in my life because I hate getting in trouble. But in this moment, I'm more embarrassed that it is 2012 and I was rocking out to MICHAEL BOLTON, than that I got busted for breaking the law.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Officer Rivera comes to my window and says, "Ma'am, I'm pulling you over for speeding today." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Okay, Officer," I meekly reply, both hands on the steering wheel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"The speed limit is 25 MPH here and I clocked you at 36."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh, boy."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yeah, did you even see me there?" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Me, sheepishly, "No. I was completely jamming to music."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Oh really? What was it?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">No, Officer Rivera! Why did you have to ask me that? I'm a good girl. I hate getting in trouble and I'm embarrassed that you pulled me over in the first place, but even more than that? I'm embarrassed that the reason I was breaking the law was because I couldn't keep myself in control whilst listening to the 90s crooner. In all of my earnestness and inability to lie to an authority figure, I held on to the steering wheel and collapsed my forehead onto it, cocked my head to the side and with a grimace I admitted, "Michael Bolton."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Michael Bolton?!" He laughed, "I was NOT expecting you to say that. Lady Gaga, maybe. But Michael Bolton?" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I know. And I didn't think that ANYBODY was ever going to know about it." Uncontrollable blushing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I handed Officer Rivera my license, he looks at it, and returns it to me. "Okay, Ms. Holmes, I'm just going to give you a warning this time. Michael Bolton?" Shaking his head he chuckled and asked, "Was it 'How Can We Be Lovers If We Can't Be Friends?" Ah-ha! Officer Rivera shows his soft underbelly. Only a closeted Michael Bolton fan could pull out a reference like that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Actually, it was 'Love Is A Wonderful Thing,'" I admit, regaining a little of my confidence and my sass.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Well, take it easy on the Bolton and slow it down, ma'am."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Oh, I will. Thanks."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Note to self: Be your authentic, adorable self. </em>A wise man once said, "Birds fly and don't think twice/They simply spread their wings." That's what I did here. I could have played this so many ways, but I just did what came naturally to me (yes, burying my head in the steering wheel was that reflex). I did not expect anyone to know my secret guilty pleasure, nor did I expect to get out of that ticket, probably just as much as Officer Rivera did not expect to start his morning in a conversation about Michael Bolton. Isn't life awesome? To see just how awesome it is, you should check out the video below (because you know you're a closeted fan, too. I mean with soulful background singers, how can you NOT be?):</span></div>
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<br /></div>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-19113473912234896882012-01-02T19:37:00.001-08:002012-01-03T22:37:00.651-08:002011 in Posts (and thoughts that never materialized as such)<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Internets, I am the Scrooge McDuck of New Year's Eve. I don't understand or buy into the hype and have always found that the best New Year's Eves are the ones without expectations (no over-the-top plans, no $50 cover charges to bars that on any other night of the year you can go to for free). Low expectations are almost always exceeded--a great way to start the new year. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This year, I spent New Year's Eve alone in my house and it was FABULOUS. I did some organizing, watched a movie, drank a glass of champagne and ate fancy salted caramels, and was in bed by 10:30. Ahhhhh. I also spent some time reflecting on the past year and thought I'd pull out the highlights of each month in terms of my most favorite (and sometimes only) posts for the month.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>January</strong>--No post, however I started the year off coaching a couple of marathons and breaking up with the Olympian (who I think I may have never even blogged about to begin with, so, here you go: I was in a relationship, and then in January, I wasn't. The end.).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>February</strong>--</span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/02/is-this-heaven.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I fixed my $600 drying rack</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">.</span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"The Commish and Monster have... talked about John C. Reilly's doppelganger the
plumber. When I opened the door today, there he was... I half expected Will
Ferrell to pop out from behind the shrubs."</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>March</strong>--</span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/03/commitment.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I blogged every day for the whole month</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">.</span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"And it being the start of the month and all why not use my freakishly methodical
mentality to push myself into a blogging challenge? And, lo, a habit is born. Or
at least force fit into my life."</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><strong>April</strong>--</span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/04/check-that-one-off-list.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I accomplished something REALLY BIG by running the Boston Marathon</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;">.</span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Remember to keep breathing. When you turn on
to Boylston and are within blocks of the finish line and you start to
hyperventilate (again) because you're so overcome with emotion, and you're about
to cross off a REALLY big accomplishment on your "life's list of things to
accomplish," and the big crowd is cheering and calling out the name you have
written in big bold letters on your shirt, and photographers are taking your
picture (even in spite of the fact that you look like you just crawled out of
the grave), and you almost start to cry, and then you realize you stopped
breathing, inhale. And then exhale. And then inhale again, and keep moving."</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>May</strong>--</span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/paris-france-part-ii.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My life was forever changed for the better because I went to PARIS! FRANCE!</span></a><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"I'm feeling particularly verbose about my time in PARIS! FRANCE! The good news,
there's going to be a lot more than just Part II. Today's theme: 'When LMNT went
for a run and then wept openly about art'."</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>June</strong>--</span><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was still only talking about PARIS! FRANCE!</span></a><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Just had an absolutely lovely conversation with an adorably lovely, older,
French, non-English speaking woman sharing a table with me in a crowded cafe. I
have no idea what we talked about."</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>July</strong>--There was so much that I didn't blog about. Instead of writing, I bought myself cowgirl boots.</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2ybMv_H60Y/TwPtsv69XzI/AAAAAAAAAh8/extf-fw15Wg/s1600/Boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2ybMv_H60Y/TwPtsv69XzI/AAAAAAAAAh8/extf-fw15Wg/s320/Boots.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>August</strong>--<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/08/milestones.html">I celebrated a lot of milestones</a>, the biggest being a decade in the Pacific Northwest and the smallest being my little tattoo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>"That's right, on this very date TEN years ago I... sat in a tattoo parlor with
one of my best friends, Jo Jo, and commemorated the 'passing of an era' by
getting my one and only tattoo. </em><em>We got matching tattoos, a small ladybug atop our right
feet. Small, yet it symbolizes such big monumental things: my life up to that
point."</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>September</strong>--I didn't post, but I got a year older.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>October</strong>--I didn't have a free minute for the first 16 days of the month because I was coaching two marathon events and had tech week for... wait for it...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>November</strong>--...<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/11/six-word-sunday-november-13-2011.html">Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.</a> Also, I demonstrated how you can <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/11/next-stop-square-one.html">move through the grieving process at a rapid rate</a> (and I got back on Match.com, which could be important as we move into 2012, but more about that later...)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>"<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Not that I'm going to make excuses, but if I
were going to one of the reasons why you haven't heard much from me over the
past three months is because I was busy getting my thespian on. And for those of
you that thought it might just be a "phase" or something I was experimenting
with, as it turns out I'm really into it."</span></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>December</strong>--<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/12/social-experiment-with-cupcake-twins_19.html">The Cupcake Twins wooed the masses (and broke many a married man's heart) with BACON CUPCAKES!</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>"Sorry married guys who might really love cupcakes, but guess what? You've
already got yourself a 'cupcake'--and she's at home--and your puppy-dog eyes
will get you nowhere with us. We do not feel sorry for you. And no, you cannot
buy one of our cupcakes for a dollar."</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All told (and for what remains untold), 2011 was a good year, but I do bid it goodbye, because it's time to make way for 2012 and I've already got a feeling that it's going to be a <em>great </em>year.</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-82432290811431367132011-12-23T23:19:00.000-08:002011-12-24T00:49:28.060-08:00Eat your heart out Dick Clark (or LMNT's top ten holiday tunes)I tend to be one who gets bit by the Christmas bug a little later in the season than most, although I will admit this is the first year ever that I<em> almost</em> considered getting a tree. I'm not 100% Scrooge! Yay!<br />
<br />
Actually, I do love Christmas, it's just that decorating for one (especially when you're not around your house on Christmas itself) doesn't really get me in the spirit. But what does get me there is music. Feeling inspired by <a href="http://flibbertigibberish.blogspot.com/2011/12/songs-of-christmas-past.html">TIG</a> and the greatest hits collection she created for her family got me thinking about the songs that get me merry and bright. So I've cobbled together this list (and even found you corresponding videos/videos of still-frame photographs for each) of the songs that are undeniably Christmas for LMNT. Not completely conventional, some more random than others, but all are full of memories. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<strong>10.</strong> <strong>"Christmas Wrapping," The Waitresses</strong> <br />
The instant I hear this song, I have an uncontrollable urge to fold oatmeal colored fair isle sweaters. I spent two holiday shopping seasons working at Eddie Bauer in college and I think the number of times I heard this song is nearing on infinity (interestingly, I think that's the same number of sweaters I folded there, too). And while I could have given you a video from the 80s, what's better than a house that lights up to music?<br />
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Really, any of <a href="http://mix1041.radio.com/2010/12/17/top-ten-80s-christmas-songs/">these 80s gems</a> could make my countdown for the same reason as The Waitresses--I went through that list of top ten 80s Christmas hits and I'm pretty sure every single one of them made Eddie Bauer's 1995 in-store holiday compilation (with a few Bing Crosby classics for good measure). <br />
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<strong>9. We Are Santa's Elves, Videocraft Chorus</strong> <br />
Not only is "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" my all-time favorite Christmas special, but I sang this with the rest of my first grade class at Sts. Peter and Paul's 1983 Holiday Spectacular. And a one-a, and a two-a...<br />
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<strong>8. "Deck the Halls," Manheim Steamroller</strong><br />
There was a stretch of at least three Christmases when my mom bought this Manheim Steamroller album each year, because she had forgotten she bought it the year before (and the year before that).<br />
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<strong>7. "The Christians and the Pagans," Dar Williams</strong><br />
This is definitely an obscure Christmas pick, but it makes me think of my first few years living out in the Northwest, and the cozy house I had with my two dear friends, and I just like the message about us all getting along regardless our beliefs. My "peace on earth, good will toward all" offering, if you will.<br />
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<strong>6. "Sister Winter," Sufjan Stevens</strong><br />
This is my hipster showing. Stevens is an incredibly talented indie musician and artist (and is also devoutly Christian). He and some of his crazy artistic friends used to write and record holiday EPs that they'd send out with homemade covers. Oh to be so creative! A few years ago, he mass produced the EPs and sold them as a box set. This song is my favorite from all five discs. I love how it starts out so beautifully and peacefully--like you're outside in the expanse of the winter chill--and then erupts into a joyful celebration of a Happy Christmas.<br />
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When I think about starting my own family traditions, and I think about some of the reasons I have songs on this list it's because they were so much a part of my childhood. I like to think that these EPs will be similarly ingrained into the holiday memories of my own kids someday. And I like that.<br />
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<strong>5. "The Twelve Days of Christmas," John Denver and the Muppets</strong><br />
Considering I LOVED the Muppets as a kid (and wait a minute, LOVED John Denver even more than I LOVED the Muppets), I'm pretty sure I had heard this song hundreds of times, however, the first time I <em>truly</em> heard this song I was in college in a Hallmark store with my brother. He had just charmed the pants off of a lovely older female employee for a hot cup of wassail (which neither of us had any idea what that was), when we heard Beakers distinctive voice loud and clear proclaiming the ninth day. We literally fell down laughing so hard and had tears streaming down our faces (and that was all because of Beaker and had nothing to do with the wassail, and I still don't really know what that is).<br />
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<strong>4. "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings," Bare Naked Ladies with Sarah McLachlan</strong><br />
Thank you, Canada, for this, the best Christmas (and Boxing Day) present ever!<br />
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<strong>3. "(There's No Place Like) Home for the Holidays," The Carpenters</strong><br />
True story, I love <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Portrait-Carpenters/dp/B000002GHQ">this entire album</a>. Trying to pick one song from it was, in a word, impossible. Yet, I managed to make the impossible possible. For as long as I can remember, we listened to this album in its entirety throughout the holiday season (and I literally mean album. In fact, I believe we had this on LP, then cassette tape, and then CD. That's right, the soothing sounds of the Carpenter family will not be bested by the advancements in audio technology). I'd recommend the entire album; whenever I hear it, I'm immediately transported "home" either decorating the tree, wrapping Christmas caramels, or just being with my family. To that end, "Home for the Holidays" seemed appropriate. Because, for the holidays you really can't beat home sweet home.<br />
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(And holy cow! If that video wasn't pure wholesome Lawrence-Welk-inspired fun, then I don't know what is.)<br />
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<strong>2. "Carol of the Bells," Johnny Mathis</strong><br />
Johnny Mathis was right up there with The Carpenters in our house. His Christmas album was on constant repeat in our living room. Plus "Carol of the Bells" is my favorite traditional carol.<br />
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<strong>1. "Colorado Christmas," The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band</strong><br />
If you live anywhere other than Colorado, you likely have never heard this song. This is my 11th holiday season in Seattle and I know I've never heard it out there, because they'd be all, "Huh?! 'A quiet Christmas morning in the Colorado snow?' What's that all about? Try rain, buckets and buckets of rain." And I can tell you right now, if anyone ever wrote a song proclaiming that all that rain is "the closest thing to heaven on this planet anywhere," well they'd be laughed right out of town (oh, and we'd all be doomed). But this is hands down my all-time favorite Christmas tune. And I can attest that there's nothing I look forward to more than getting on that plane and heading home to Colorado for Christmas. Even when we don't have snow, it's still a Colorado Christmas and I love it. And there's no dreaming this year, for my Christmas is most definitely white.<br />
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<br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-43892268032909353842011-12-19T23:18:00.000-08:002011-12-19T23:18:30.226-08:00A social experiment with the Cupcake Twins--Part II<em>You can read <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/12/social-experiment-with-cupcake-twins.html">Part I of this story here</a>...</em><br />
<em>--</em><br />
Have you ever walked into a bar on a Friday night with a tray full of BACON CUPCAKES!? Well, here's what happens when you do.<br />
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First of all, you need to think about how you want to carry them around. My Cupcake Twin and I considered several options: glass cake platter, silver tray, wooden tray. We finally settled on the most simple solution possible: the cheap tray in which they were baked (because you need to remember that as soon as they are all given away, you're going to be stuck carrying whatever item you chose around with you the rest of the night).<br />
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Second you need to think about your story, because why exactly are you walking around with cupcakes? It's not to say that you need to stick to your story at all times, but you do just need to be confident in why you have cupcakes, so when some random dude (who you don't want to give a cupcake to) says something about them being fantastic, you can fire back with a, "yes, WE (meaning you and your Cupcake Twin) are fantastic!" And then when he responds with a, "well that's a bold statement." You can then fire back with a, "No, that's the truth. The bold statement is walking in here with a tray of BACON CUPCAKES!" And then just walk away.<br />
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In thinking about your story, you'll also want to be thinking about your criteria for what makes for a cupcake-worthy gent. Because the executive decisions you've previously made about the size and quantity of cupcakes you'll bake and how you'll be transporting them around town will inevitably dictate the number of cupcakes you have at your disposal, you're really going to need to determine how you'll dole the treats out. Be prepared that many factors may play into you changing your mind throughout the night, but be sure you know your must haves and your deal-breakers (say for instance, as I mentioned in Part I, a wedding ring? DEAL-BREAKER! Sorry married guys who might really love cupcakes, but guess what? You've already got yourself a "cupcake"--and she's at home--and your puppy-dog eyes will get you nowhere with us. We do not feel sorry for you. And no, you cannot buy one of our cupcakes for a dollar. They are not for sale.).<br />
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Third, you need to be really careful for what you wish. Remember how I'm <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2010/05/midas-touch.html">really good at manifesting things</a>? Well, when you take cupcakes to a bar it's probably a good idea to be focused on what you really and truly want. Me? I wanted to see if I could get a guy's number. Did that. Social experiment victory! However, next time, I think I'm going to be a little more specific about that so I can manifest something a little bit closer to the Mr. Right I really and truly want.<br />
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Fourth, you need to be strategic about the establishments you visit. You want a place that is frequented by men (heed the advice above about manifesting, and make sure you're heading to places where the odds of meeting Mr. Right, not just any-old-Mister, are high). We went to a couple of places and had varying degrees of luck. We got our feet wet at an Irish pub--safe environment full of bacon-lovers and men--and then headed to a little fancier spot we tend to frequent. As we were heading out for the night, we did wonder if we'd be allowed to bring food in, or if they would shun our tasty treats. As it turns out, if you reserve a couple for your servers and bartenders it can go a long way. <br />
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About that last point, when our server at the Irish pub asked us about the cupcakes it was impossible to not tell her what we were doing. She thought the idea was brilliant, so of course we gave her a cupcake, and then we gave one to the bartender, and then when we got to the second bar, we gave five away to the owners/bartenders and serving staff, because we know them pretty well, and because they've had to put up with our craziness on more than one occasion. In the event you're keeping count, that's seven courtesy cupcakes gifted. And okay, we split one, so that's eight out and only four left for prospective charming guys. Whoops!<br />
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With our cupcakes rationed, we ended up handing two out to a couple of guys who were sitting near us at the Irish pub, our approach was just to ask them if they wanted cupcakes they said yes, ate them, enjoyed them, and then left (granted we asked them if they wanted cupcakes as they were preparing to leave). Neither of us wanted anything to come from giving these two away, it was actually more about proving to ourselves that we could actually give cupcakes away to people other than the employees of the establishments we were visiting. Social experiment victory! <br />
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When we were down to our final two cupcakes it was later in the evening and we were sitting at the bar in our final destination on a very uncharacteristically quiet night. Prospects were looking grim (only the group of guys which contained both the married man who would pay good money for a BACON CUPCAKE! and the guy who most definitely could not handle our fantastic boldness), until two nicely dressed and unmarried guys enter the bar. They sit at a high-top table behind us and we tried out a new pick-up move. We grab two coasters and place one cupcake on each. We give them to our server--who is in cahoots with us, especially after we give her a cupcake of her own, even in spite of the fact that she's a vegetarian--who takes them over to the table and says, "The lovely ladies at the bar have sent these cupcakes over to you." And it works like a charm (kind of like when someone sends over a drink, only it's a BACON CUPCAKE!). Social experiment victory! We ended up chatting with the guys for quite some time and yes, I got a phone number out of it (the phone number of a guy who is not quite what I'm looking for and who is also moving to Manhattan next week, but a phone number nonetheless. Say it with me, Internets, social experiment victory!).<br />
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Don't be surprised if the Cupcake Twins are out again in the New Year. We've learned some important lessons that we need to put back into practice. <em>Note to self: use bacon, don't give all your cupcakes to the waitstaff, focus on what you really want, sit at the bar, send cupcakes over--it's simultaneously mysterious, intriguing, domestic, and hilarious. And most importantly, regardless the executive decisions you make, always opt for bold and fantastic!</em>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-40202266818042430982011-12-17T17:00:00.000-08:002011-12-17T17:00:16.398-08:00A social experiment with the Cupcake Twins--Part I<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sometimes an idea is hatched under the influence that might be potentially crazy and ridiculous, but because you are under the influence you know that it is undoubtedly the best idea you've had in your life. Ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is how the Cupcake Twins were born.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few weeks ago, a fellow single friend and I were out on the town, looking and feeling good, yet attracting nothing but married men. Perplexed, we put our big brains together figure out how we could change our luck and actually get single fellows to come our way. I won't take you through our entire thought process (as there was a lot of wandering around until we finally landed on the final product), but suffice it to say we boiled it down to the simple mind of a single man. Unsure on why we weren't attracting Mr. [Unmarried] Right to us, we decided we should reach into our bag of tricks and use an irresistible secret weapon: cupcakes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That's right. Cupcakes. Our plan was a simple one, bake a batch of cupcakes and visit a couple of target-rich environments on a Friday night and use them to draw attention and open the door for opportunity. Brilliant! We agreed that we would only give the cupcakes out to those who were truly cupcake-worthy (first criterion: must not be married). Even more brilliant! We set dates for cupcake making and D (delivery) Day, and our plan was in motion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Earlier in the week, I was sharing the plan with a group of friends (guys, gals, singles, couples) and right away one of the guys turned to me and said, "I'm not sure that will work. Girls like cupcakes. Guys like bacon. If you walked into a bar with a plate of bacon, you cannot lose." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I looked at him incredulously, as if I'm going to walk into a bar with a plate of bacon?! You know, because walking in with a platter of cupcakes is just so much more logical. But I did give his comment some thought because people do love bacon and you usually can't lose (unless those people happen to be vegetarians or vegans, and if they are, well then they probably aren't people that I would spend forever with because mmm-mmm, I love meat). My friend and I considered this new viewpoint and made executive decision number one: Bacon Cupcakes!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With a modified plan I hit the store to get supplies for cupcake making day and made executive decisions two, three, and four: instead of making mini-cupcakes we'd make normal-size ones becasue the store didn't have mini-cupcake tins, we would not be making cupcakes from scratch but would be making the box variety, and likewise, we would not be making a chocolate ganache when we could just use a ready-to-spread tub of frosting. Silly us had thought that we would wow people with our baking abilities and make homemade treats, then we realized nobody is really going to notice the difference and why put that much energy into strangers and a social experiment that could backfire. Plus I didn't want to do all those dishes. And we opened the box and combined the ingredients at home, therefore the cupcakes would be undeniably home-made.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So we busted out some "rich butter flavor" yellow cupcakes and added an unspecified amount of artificial maple flavoring (why splurge on pure maple extract, right?), frosted them with "rich chocolate" frosting and sprinkled them with bits of bacon. Admittedly the bacon was a splurge. In case you didn't know this, happy free-range pigs make for ridiculously yummy bacon, and if you have ridiculously yummy bacon on a cupake, you're probably more willing to overlook the fact that the cake has both artificial butter and maple flavoring and is so overloaded with sugar and preservatives because mmm-mmm, you love meat!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You're probably curious about how this social experiment turned out... and that will be Part II of this story. But just in case you were curious about how my house smells, it's smelled like pancakes, Log Cabin syrup, and bacon for two solid days now.</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-88312017939256348612011-12-14T17:34:00.000-08:002011-12-14T17:34:23.712-08:00Little voices<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Have you ever wondered how an LMNT post comes to be? Well,
Internets, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much—hold it! That’s
something completely different.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I’m not sure how other bloggers think about their posts, as
I’m sure we all employ very different techniques. Some might outline their
thoughts, making sure they have a clear introduction with a clear
thesis, supporting points, and conclusion. Some probably
even proofread and revise what they’ve written. Well, not this blogger.
Thesis? Hmmm, rarely. Proofread? Ha! Well, sometimes I do go back and reread what I’ve spewed all over the page, but
that’s mostly me validating that I am indeed as hilarious as I thought I was when I
wrote those words the first time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I’m probably not the best person to dole out any sort of
advice, but I don't think there's any harm in letting you go into my brain a little bit here, because I
think the post development--from thought to publication--is interesting. And by interesting, I mean potentially weird.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I seem to remember a conversation with <a href="http://flibbertigibberish.blogspot.com/">TIG</a> in high school
about how when she was thinking, s</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">he would picture the words being typed out in her mind (is that true, or am I making that up?). For me, I
actually hear myself saying everything I think, as in I’m completely narrating my own
life--every single thought--and when the occasion calls for it (read: particularly dramatic situations) I add a musical soundtrack underneath my narration. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Take right now for instance, as I’m thinking about what I'm typing, I’m reading it out loud in my
head. This word, and that one, and yes, even this one. Even <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/03/words-words-words.html">the words that I love to say out loud are fun to say in my head. The French ones too. Faire de l’alpinisme.</a> Okay, this is getting to be too much; the echo in here makes my head
ache.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, for me, a post doesn’t start with an outline, but essentially starts
with a conversation with myself. If something funny or random happens to
me, I immediately talk about it in my head to myself and it becomes the backbone of my post. So all those half-finished posts I have laying around are really just
unfinished conversations with myself that are swimming around in my brain. The finished project is really just me coming around after leaving myself hanging for hours, days, or even months. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Is this unique? Maybe everyone talks to themselves incessantly in their head? Do you? Or how about when you read something, do you hear yourself reading it aloud then too? I'm not that weird, or am I? Inquiring minds (and head voices) want to know.</span></span><br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-8700593641455091212011-12-12T17:21:00.000-08:002011-12-12T17:30:03.436-08:00Funk my life<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lo, a month has passed since last I've posted, and the Internets hath had nary a peep from LMNT. Sad face emoticon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I actually have a handful of half-started, half-conceptualized posts that I just never had the real oomph to finish. You see, Internets, I'm in one of my funks; one of those funks that inevitably follows a period of uber-activity overload. Where I go from being extremely regimented and scheduled, having some place to be, something to do, or someone depending upon me almost every hour of the day to nada. Nothing. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, nobody depending upon squat. These funks are so predictable, you can set your watch to them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When I'm in that crazy state of hustle and bustle and frenetic energy, that's when I actually feel like I function the best. From my perspective, I know what I'm doing, I have purpose, and things seem to have more vitality. What I don't really know is how people experience me during those periods. I mean, I think I'm giving them my best, I'm in the zone, and they certainly couldn't ask for more. I hesitate to open myself up for feedback on that, because I'm not sure I can imagine that happy little self-perception shattering. But I wonder what it's like on the outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What's becoming ever clear to me in this particular funk is that I'm not sure I know how to operate at a pace that is less than frenetic. I thrive off of that pace and I think it's something that was ingrained into me back in high school. When I'm in this fallow period, I feel absolutely demoralized. From my perspective I feel lethargic, listless, lacking in purpose, and everything is shrouded in a very dull haze. In the same light, I wonder how people experience me in this stage. My self-criticalness is at heightened levels in times like these, so it's absolutely unfathomable for me to think anyone really thinks they are getting the best LMNT they could.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I know there has to be a balance, what I don't know is how to strike that. I'm very skilled at swinging the pendulum from one side to the other, it's just that finding the place in between that's really hard. My knee absolutely jerks when I'm in a fallow funk and then I suddenly find myself involved in activities I don't really care about, going places I don't really want to go, or dating people I really don't want to date. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I can tell you that I'm trying my darnedest to be intentional about this funk, and not collect things/activities/hobbies/boyfriends in a shallow way; I'm trying to find that balance. And it's hard. And it's so much easier to swing to either side--the pull that pendulum is strong I tell you. <em>Note to self: resistance is not futile!</em> And when I find that balance--because I have faith I will--I'll be even more curious to know how others are experiencing me and most importantly how I'm experiencing myself.</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-28078684259078257432011-11-13T18:29:00.001-08:002011-11-13T21:21:38.161-08:00Six-word Sunday: November 13, 2011<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Attended the tale of Sweeney Todd.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Not that I'm going to make excuses, but if I were going to one of the reasons why you haven't heard much from me over the past three months is because I was busy getting my thespian on. And for those of you that thought it might just be a "phase" or something I was experimenting with, as it turns out I'm really into it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Back in August, a friend of mine who was directing "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street," admonished me for not signing up for an audition. And if I were making excuses (which I already established, I'm not), it was because I was in the midst of coaching another running season for Team in Training and I knew how much work that was going to take, especially given the fact that we had three events in October which was also when the production was set to open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As I'm wont to do, I figured out a way to have the best of both worlds--even though the cost was having a six-week stretch where literally every minute of every day was scheduled and if I had the luxury to be at my house it was only to sleep. But it was definitely worth it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Being a part of this production was a tremendous experience. If you're not familiar with the show, it is considered by many to be one of the most musically challenging productions. There is nowhere to hide in the ensemble, you have to know your music (and it's Sondheim, so knowing your music is at times so much easier said than done). I'm so glad that I was given the opportunity. I learned and grew as an actor and singer, and as a gender-bending-Irish-conman-turned-flamboyant-Italian-barber. More about that to come...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgzfZaYP3ySZ5XNsKfS_Go-Pqg9C4Tf9dtDCxbHDjlKeI_-bMv_cbm7EshJ76ifcnWg9TnWhyphenhyphenO2r18pqbT7xTIFTSXWBzcWVVPle1cKW6d8pAcwIbI9JJrR0VYE9YPllQUm4jhcAWiBgc/s1600/Pirelli3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgzfZaYP3ySZ5XNsKfS_Go-Pqg9C4Tf9dtDCxbHDjlKeI_-bMv_cbm7EshJ76ifcnWg9TnWhyphenhyphenO2r18pqbT7xTIFTSXWBzcWVVPle1cKW6d8pAcwIbI9JJrR0VYE9YPllQUm4jhcAWiBgc/s320/Pirelli3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-79028882140288960582011-11-09T23:15:00.000-08:002011-11-09T23:15:33.749-08:00Next stop: Square one<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">First things first, there are many things</span> I need to recount for you, dear Internets,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> but let's start with what is often a popular topic, if not a source of great blog material: my love life.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">To make a story that shouldn't be as long as I make it short, earlier this summer I met a guy. By all accounts a very great guy. A guy who was vetted by AP and was introduced to me as my future husband. So we met, had a good connection and a fun weekend, and then he returned home to Philadelphia. I made a valiant effort to be open to the possibility of something more and he sort of made a modest effort, I guess. And ultimately that was that and it was over--it just took a couple months for that spade to finally be identified. </span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When it comes down to it, we had a weekend and some text conversations. Not really much, which is why it was surprising--and actually downright comical--to me to note my emotional response to the situation. I mean in reality he and I didn't have much, yet I found myself moving through the stages of grief, literally by the hour. And it got me wondering if the amount of time one takes to move from denial to acceptance is directly related the amount of time one spends in a relationship? If so, then you can base your proportion on the following ratio: a one weekend relationship will equate to eight hours of grief.</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">And, because I saw a ton of humor in the situation and knew it was excellent blog material, I tracked my emotional highs and lows on a post-it note that afternoon (maybe there is also a corollary between the amount of raw materials needed to document one's grief and the length of one's relationship, in which case a one weekend relationship will equate to one post-it note, whereas I'm guessing a multi-decade relationship might require several bound journals, and Kim Kardashian's marriage lies somewhere in between).</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So, Internets, please be seated and keep your arms and legs inside of the vehicle at all times, as you are about to embark on LMNT's abbreviated emotional roller coaster:</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia;">11:24 AM--</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I receive an e-mail from Philly basically saying, "you are awesome, I don't want a long-distance relationship, don't let me hold you back, and good luck." I adopt a "whatever dude" type of attitude and instead of responding, I head out for a long lunch. DENIAL.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">1:30 PM--I respond coolly to Philly, because, whatever, NEXT! Which then elicits a text response: "You are truly an a-typical girl (in a good way)!" Which then causes me to explode because if one more person says to me, "You are so awesome, I don't know why you're single." I'm going to punch them in the mouth... especially if that person is the boy who just sent me a "break-up" e-mail. ANGER!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">1:31 PM--I text back, "Yeah, I know. Your loss, buddy." BARGAINING (sorta, kinda... but mostly it's me calling it like it is and rubbing it in his face).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">5:30 PM--I'm driving home belting out Adele at the top of my lungs, "Never mind, I'll find someone like you/I wish nothing but the best for yoooooooou, too/Don't forget me, I begged, I remember you said/Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead." And I cried a little. And they were not tears for Philly, but tears for me, because FOR THE LOVE OF PETE! How much longer do I have to wait?! DEPRESSION.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">7:24 PM--I was paid a visit by Shawny to help me snap out of my "I may as well go start hoarding cats now" spiral. Oh, and I renewed my online dating subscription. ACCEPTANCE.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Really, I'm doing okay. More than okay, actually. And I'm staying hopeful that this time will be different (or at least will provide me with some really great blog fodder).</span><br />
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<br />little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-37700151455355150542011-11-01T20:58:00.000-07:002011-11-01T20:58:14.240-07:00Ain't no joke<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Me: Knock, knock.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">You: Who's there?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Me: LMNT.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">You: LMNT who?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Me: LMNT!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">You: No really, LMNT who?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">That's right, Internets, here I am. Yes, I know you'll believe it when you see it, and I'm going to go out on a limb now and say you can hold your breath. Seriously. I've got stuff to say, and notes afloat, so I'm gonna do that and do it here. Promise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">See you soon!</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-23904103476560222902011-08-21T23:25:00.000-07:002011-08-21T23:25:13.994-07:00Six-word Sunday: August 21, 2011<strong>Ran. Volleyballed. Started killing a parasite.</strong><br />
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Yeah, that pretty much sums up my last seven days. Yesterday I ran 19 miles (like you do), and today I played in the one outdoor volleyball tournament I play in each summer. And my partner and I won! Oh, yeah, and I'm killing off a parasite (also, like you do). More about Eunice Penelope to come...<br />
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little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-72826558640257568822011-08-08T22:17:00.000-07:002011-08-09T09:31:42.553-07:00Six-word Sunday (on Monday): August 8, 2011<strong>Finally celebrating the arrival of Summer!</strong><br />
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The Pacific Northwest and Summer have a very tenuous relationship, sometimes it's hot and heavy and other times it's on the fritz. Those of us that live here end up in the wake of that manic relationship and can tell you that when it's good it's <em>really </em>good. And when it's bad, well it's downright cold, rainy and miserable. Fortunately Summer, that saucy minx, decided to roll into town last week, giving all of us pasty-skinned vitamin D-deficient Seattleites cause to finally start wearing seasonally appropriate clothing.<br />
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Because it hasn't felt like Summer, I haven't felt like doing any of my Summertime chores, namely making my yard (and outdoor living space) summer ready. Well, this weekend I finally made it happen. I weeded relentlessly and scoured the past year of rain and gloom (read: mold) off of my deck and yard furniture. And it's about freaking time! There are six weeks of summer left and you better believe I'm going to enjoy the heck out of those six weeks (on my mold free yard furniture)!little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-14293496684754889312011-08-04T20:40:00.000-07:002011-08-04T20:40:27.249-07:00MilestonesIn the past few months it seems like I've had a few of them (like finally publishing a post? Oh! Hello, Internets!). And not just piddly little meaningless milestones, but significant things that make you think, "Holy crap where did that last decade go?!"<br />
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For instance, in May I hit my five-year anniversary at work. FIVE YEARS! That might not seem that weighty, but considering I never thought I'd ever leave education to be in the business world, it blows my mind. It's the longest I've ever been with an organization (and if you count the year I spent there as a contractor before I was hired on full-time, I've been there over SIX YEARS!). This means I've spent more time at this place than I did at my combo Junior/Senior high school, and my university where I did my undergrad and graduate work. <br />
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Similarly, last week marked the five-year anniversary of when I bought <a href="http://domestikat.blogspot.com/">my house</a>. Oh, my sweet little <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2009/05/gangster-20.html">Oasis in the Jhetto</a>. The Oasis that I bought as an investment because at the time the <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2007/10/replacements.html">marinara jar</a> and I thought we'd be getting married (at least he'd mentioned it and I took him seriously) and the bubble was yet to burst in Seattle and it made sense then, but now it sometimes feels like the chain around my neck. Good thing I like the Oasis (minus the <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/cock-doodle-dont.html">rooster</a>). It's not that bad, and is by far the place I've lived in the longest in my life other than my parents' house. That is just crazy to me. I went from moving every year or two throughout my twenties, contently hopping around, and then, BOOM! Roots.<br />
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But those two milestones, while important, are small potatoes. I feel like I've spent the past two months constantly reflecting, "On this very date, TEN years ago I did..." And TEN years just sounds like such a substantial chunk of time. Here's a short list:<br />
<ul><li>May 1--I returned to Colorado after visiting Seattle for the first time and put all my energy into finding a job in the Pacific Northwest because I loved it so much.</li>
<li>June 5--I graduated with my Master's of Arts degree from the University of Denver.</li>
<li>June 10--interviewed at the University of Puget Sound and had one of those experiences where everything clicks and you are on the precipice of something huge--and you know that it is exactly where you are supposed to be.</li>
<li>June 30--I (with a lot of help from DenPants) bought my first car. <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2009/09/jeff.html">My little Jetta</a> that I still drive around today (only when I bought him<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2010/03/have-you-seen-me.html"> he had all of his hubcaps</a>...).</li>
<li>July 26--I drove out of Colorado, the only place I had ever called home.</li>
<li>July 27--<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2008/08/is-there-itch-associated-with-it.html">I drove into Washington</a>, a place I never imagined I would call home but now do.</li>
<li>August 1--I started my first real grown-up job at the University of Puget Sound. A real grown-up job that paid me an actual salary (and it wasn't much at the time... especially now that I know better after leaving education for the business-world, but it was enough for me to not feel buyer's remorse every time I went to the grocery store).</li>
<li>August 4--That's right, on this very date TEN years ago I... sat in a tattoo parlor with one of my best friends, Jo Jo, and commemorated the "passing of an era" by getting <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2010/03/have-you-seen-me.html">my one and only tattoo</a>. We got matching tattoos, a small ladybug atop our right feet. Small, yet it symbolizes such big monumental things: my life up to that point.</li>
</ul>Who knew what the next TEN years would have in store? Oh, the highs, the lows, the joy, the pain, the multitude of times I raised my hands and wondered "what the heck am I doing? why am I here? and am I doing this whole thing right?" It's funny, because I'm at a point now where I'm wondering some of the same things.<br />
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I will tell you this, I celebrated my ten-year anniversary of making that huge monumental life-change by applying for a job in Europe. Yep, that's right. So now I'm sitting here wondering who knows what the next TEN years will have in store. (But seriously, who does? If you find out, could you send them my way? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Thanks.)little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-66529192195246218792011-06-12T23:08:00.000-07:002011-06-12T23:08:51.141-07:00Six-word Sunday: June 12, 2011<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span id="goog_1708254750"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1708254751"></span>Relived PARIS! FRANCE! in Seattle, Washington.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Just when I thought I wouldn't post about PARIS! FRANCE! again, I went and had an oh-so-French day today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">After I returned from France I was waxing nostalgic about the macaroons to Monster and she came across a French bakery and found them. I had to go try them today and then I treated myself to Woody Allen's new film, <em><a href="http://www.sonyclassics.com/midnightinparis/home.html">Midnight in Paris</a></em>. Internets, if you see this movie you need to know that everything Owen Wilson's character says and thinks about Paris is exactly what I've been saying, thinking, and feeling--and what I've been rambling about ad nauseum. Oh, and in the movie they go to L'Orangerie (<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/06/paris-france-part-iv.html">see tip #4</a>) and the sight of the room induced an <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/paris-france-part-ii.html">emotional artburst</a>, again. Surprising but sweet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And as I close out my surprisingly French day, I'll close out my incessant rambling about how much I love PARIS! FRANCE! For now, anyway...</span>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2997151963241708435.post-57691020213015027582011-06-12T22:42:00.000-07:002011-06-12T22:42:24.270-07:00PARIS! FRANCE! Part IV<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Check out </span></em><a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/paris-france-part-i.html"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Part I</span></em></a>, <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/paris-france-part-ii.html"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Part II</span></em></a><em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, and <a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/06/paris-france-part-iii.html">Part III</a> of PARIS! FRANCE! wherein I play the part of a power tourist, an emotional and righteous observer of high art, and someone who pretends they know what they are talking about.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Internets, I think we've come to the final post about my trip to PARIS! FRANCE! This final installment will be a veritable potpurri of random tips and left over pictures to keep you visually interested.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #1: Go to Paris. Simple enough. Just go. Seriously. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #2: Go to Paris in the springtime. To be fair, I've never been to Paris any other time of year, but I can attest to its general fabulousness in the spring. There's a reason people love Pairis in the springtime.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #3: Buy a scarf from a street market and wear it everywhere. Trust me, everyone else is doing it so you should too! Mais, oui!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #4: Go to L'Orangerie. I know I already implored you to do this<a href="http://highandlownotes.blogspot.com/2011/05/paris-france-part-ii.html"> here</a>, and if that wasn't reason enough here's a handy dandy little trick. If you go to L'Orangerie and buy the combo pass with Musee D'Orsay, you can get in to both AND skip the long line to get into Musee D'Orsay. Awesome.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #5: Make the effort to speak French. Everyone I encountered was very gracious. Of course I was going out of my way to not come across as an ugly American (I wasn't wearing jeans, sneakers, and concealed any other such articles that send out the tourist beacon), but I never came across anyone that was rude or unwilling to help me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #6: You must must must get yourself a selection of les macarons (small little cookies that aren't anything like American macaroons, they are times infinity better mostly because they don't have coconut in them) and head to Le jardin de Luxembourg. Plop yourself down alongisde La fontaine de Medici and just revel in the moment. It is one I'll never forget. I really can't do it justice, but sitting there enjoying my rose petal macaroon is the most poignantly beautiful moment I've ever experienced.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tip #7-infinity: There's so much more I could share with you, but I'll stop with this final tip: when you go to Paris (or heck, when you go on any adventure), open yourself up to being profoundly impacted by the expereince. Everything I experienced, from the larger-than-life to the small and simple, they all left an indellible imprint on my heart, mind, and soul. That general appreciation for just being and living in the moment is quite possibly the most significant thing I learned from PARIS! FRANCE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And because pictures are worth a thousand words, here's a few more thousand for you. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsr2ko9-XeQHngJk0aPsIlgCb0pDi1tZ7FmQcAdrqm2H0lET54kp5B5rKqNzMZ7DziOzZPUteZCtaZl30ilOpJc9tVUOUi26IaNMRUmGXE54GTZok7UXorO6mPkN5xz8cD67uxROlpM8tT/s1600/France7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsr2ko9-XeQHngJk0aPsIlgCb0pDi1tZ7FmQcAdrqm2H0lET54kp5B5rKqNzMZ7DziOzZPUteZCtaZl30ilOpJc9tVUOUi26IaNMRUmGXE54GTZok7UXorO6mPkN5xz8cD67uxROlpM8tT/s320/France7.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of the Eiffel Tower from a Sunday street market.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqWxHaNsTAtlyM0mb0C5JOXbljMYZ5zvdfkaR8D_aY3vhL_ppfyfeEyJpHvjAAxbvG36YyUZ8hRZujMcDVcJqfDxH8r2o8Qv1qrSNp5pkuXGdNVOlsLQtpAuh43Pw5eRTdZO72WSeBdtp/s1600/France6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqWxHaNsTAtlyM0mb0C5JOXbljMYZ5zvdfkaR8D_aY3vhL_ppfyfeEyJpHvjAAxbvG36YyUZ8hRZujMcDVcJqfDxH8r2o8Qv1qrSNp5pkuXGdNVOlsLQtpAuh43Pw5eRTdZO72WSeBdtp/s320/France6.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right before I had the most amazing Steak Frites with "secret green sauce" for which people line up into the street. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAENyZSQqgchxvOdsppy0d8zxSGJYMW_xhKBbKyB2nCsG-YHOxkhv2BQXisEvhMNS6wPqzX0oeYVubbiOnLmhYAoOeWIEBpl_ixuR_NYoVeudQSPfXllFP_QmlSjAm4pox7l-HFxTg9lY/s1600/France3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAENyZSQqgchxvOdsppy0d8zxSGJYMW_xhKBbKyB2nCsG-YHOxkhv2BQXisEvhMNS6wPqzX0oeYVubbiOnLmhYAoOeWIEBpl_ixuR_NYoVeudQSPfXllFP_QmlSjAm4pox7l-HFxTg9lY/s320/France3.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Medici Fountain. Romantic. Breathtaking. Beautiful.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3YvG5VaSynuqjbpw3sCYTxbdoISdcYIIBDH-qwxhHz6wex43Z3EquNmUk8hSJofb1EIH9nbyPYidxsY3p_Keh_5gYF5OQX3mo6dR0FpJRmQyAfpvencytbj5XDa-AgP5xeNg43tT3_td/s1600/France2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3YvG5VaSynuqjbpw3sCYTxbdoISdcYIIBDH-qwxhHz6wex43Z3EquNmUk8hSJofb1EIH9nbyPYidxsY3p_Keh_5gYF5OQX3mo6dR0FpJRmQyAfpvencytbj5XDa-AgP5xeNg43tT3_td/s320/France2.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I sat and had my "macaroonasm." </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iduuWLqzIZ7k_vZ17R18sV0U_V70wfeaB1BSrN68x1d5tFQu74W0oD9FneW1nGyJlHsYbiofiHr2ou-xUj2cMhwEiY0sS99Zr9J0ePMRh_cCLHuA-_-jYAsC5Fwc85NfyAWv7epkmwe4/s1600/France1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iduuWLqzIZ7k_vZ17R18sV0U_V70wfeaB1BSrN68x1d5tFQu74W0oD9FneW1nGyJlHsYbiofiHr2ou-xUj2cMhwEiY0sS99Zr9J0ePMRh_cCLHuA-_-jYAsC5Fwc85NfyAWv7epkmwe4/s320/France1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many beautful sculptures in the Jardin du Luxembourg.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>little ms. notetakerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07392268616238615794noreply@blogger.com0