tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61313659267205017172024-02-18T18:20:08.998-10:00color me contentedstef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06683192961627140992noreply@blogger.comBlogger400125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-19098386149745774702013-09-06T11:38:00.000-10:002013-09-06T11:38:42.873-10:00My Thoughts on PostPartum DepressionHi. I'm not good with small talk, so i'm just going to dive in here.<br />
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I think we as women have this idea that most moms are fine and well adjusted after making a human, and then there are a few of us, the wackos, who get post-partum depression. GASP And if we, ourselves, start recognizing some "emotional struggles" in ourselves, first we deny.<br />
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"I'm fine. It's just baby blues. Or, "It's because I didn't sleep much last night, or the night before that, or that past 3 months." Or, "My hormones are just adjusting."<br />
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But then it starts to sink in, and as we're crying on the bathroom floor eating a bag of chocolate covered acai berries that we know is going to give us the runs later, we start to wonder, "Oh my gosh... am I one of THEM???" and BOOM, now we think we're the wacko.<br />
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So here's the thing. I think we're wrong, us women. I think <i>most</i> of us are "the wacko". Let's review. You had sex. You do it a lot. It's fun. This time it made a baby. But first that baby was a zygote, and that little rice-sized zygote made you want to puke your guts out (or maybe <i>actually</i> puke your guts out) as it grew from zygote to embryo to fetus (and for some reason I want to spell fetus foetus... I don't know. I'm wacko). Then the rock hard abs you've slaved over (or maybe not-so-much... but still, whatever they are, they're yours) start bulging. Then this little fetus, who steals all your food and wreaks havoc on your hormones, starts kicking you. It hurts. You're hungry because Foetus takes your food but you can't eat because Foetus is all up in your space. Your ankles become cankles. You waddle around like a stray penguin in search of the arctic chill... it gets a little rough there at the end. But you're happy because you're making a human! (or maybe you're not happy... whatever.) Fast forward... after hours and hours (days... for me it's days. plural) of laboring like no marathon runner, triathalon winner, or doped up Lance Armstrong has ever labored, you get a human! And then, because you're not tired or anything after making said human, you get to spend the next few months not sleeping while your body gets to figure out what the hell just happened. Oh, but there's more. Your body becomes a milk factory, whether you want it to or not. Milk for days, people. And it's still gushing hormones like kool-aid at a summer-time pool party. And do we really think that 9 months of baby-making hormones just POOF and go away? No. They linger. Like the awkward neighbor who keeps eating your pretzels and talking football three hours after the party has ended. Those hormones are milking it for all it's worth (pun intended). And then there are the unmentionables of postpartum care... two words: squirt bottle. I could continue on, but you get what I'm saying.<br />
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So here's my question: what exactly do we think post-partum "normal" is? Like a month later I'm cheerily delivering out-grown clothes to orphan children, sweeping and mopping my floors regularly, doing hair and make-up daily, cooking dinner for my sweet sweet family, and keeping up on the crisis in Syria, all while providing my milkalicious self to my infant 24-7? Or three months later? Or nine months later? Because I think "normal" might be, "Hey, I showered today! First time this week!" (and it's Thursday.) I think "normal" might be, "Today I did nothing but take care of the baby, cry, and eat some cheerios my 4 year old didn't finish."<br />
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I think normal is emotional. I think normal is some depression. I think normal is exhaustion. I think normal is wanting your husband to come home and save you so so so so bad that you text him every hour on the hour like an annoying teenage crush. I think normal is completely and totally breaking down at 3 o'clock because you seriously can't believe there are more hours left in the day. I think normal is looking into the eyes of your little human and sobbing because that new love for a new life is amazing and beautiful and new... and it feels so good. (And then you kiss their neck.) I think normal is finding this new version of life... realizing everything in your world just changed, whether its baby number 1 or baby number 5.<br />
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And I think if we could accept that this is normal, that crying and feeling hopeless and helpless and lonely one minute, then complete and utter joy and elation the other, if we could realize that is what a lot of us mommas are experiencing... that we are not alone... I think we could support each other. And if that's called postpartum depression, because it lasted longer than two weeks, so be it. I think we could be honest when someone asks, "How's it going?" We wouldn't have to feel obligated to say, "Oh, it's really good! She's just the best baby ever! Yah, we love it!" Wouldn't it be great to be able to answer honestly? And to feel like it's OKAY to feel that way??!<br />
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My normal is that I'm trying to learn to take some "me" time, but Elise has never spent a moment of her waking life away from me. So it's hard to leave her with a sitter and know she might be crying and I'm not there to comfort her. My normal is trying to adjust to a crazy busy schedule with teaching piano and accepting that it's ok to take 9 hours a week to share my passion. My normal is missing her so bad that I have to make a conscious effort not to break down and sob in the middle of working out or lessons. That's my normal right now. I'm an anxious mess of worry about my baby. Sometimes I can't hold a conversation because I can't stop thinking about if I'm parenting her correctly. Or I don't want to leave my house because I don't want to take the time and effort to shower. Or because I just want to sit and hold her and stare at her all day.<br />
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And in my experience, it comes in cycles. Some weeks/days I'm awesome! The sky is blue, the grass is green on my side of the fence, clouds are raining chocolate milk and everything is peaches. Other times not so much. And when I'm in a funk I think, "Am I one of <i>them</i>?? Do I have *GASP* the D-word?" And yah, maybe, probably. And that's ok. Because I just made a human. And I'm done expecting my body and brain and hormones and chemicals and all that stuff to be "normal" after I've just made a human and my boobs are leaking milk. I've decided that part of loving myself is being patient with myself, and accepting of my rollercoaster of emotions and reactions and what not. Because, again... let's say it all together, "I just made a human."stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-43119332201825931342013-01-21T22:39:00.001-10:002013-01-21T22:40:09.843-10:00i'm glad i was a nerdI had a moment of nostalgia today. I was taken back to my middle school/junior high days, which I fondly refer to as my "nerd among nerds" years. Think of the nerdy kid in your 7th grade science class... got them in mind? Now magnify it by an orange mullet, multicolored stone-washed jeans, over-sized glasses, brown-nosing band nerd and you get me. And to top it all off with a dollop of "even more annoying", I was confident, outspoken, and opinionated. I liked myself. I wasn't the shy, quiet nerd in the corner, I was the answer all the questions, no shame, talk to the popular kids like they might actually not hate you, tae kwon do loving, teacher's pet nerd. Even the band nerds didn't like me (they voted me "Most Annoying", and I have the certificate to prove it). And I mean it when I say I liked myself. I was confident in who I was. I thought of myself as beautiful and intelligent and funny and someone everyone would want to hang out with if they just knew me better... etc. etc. etc. But I was also incredibly lonely, and heart broken that no one wanted to be my friend. I remember crying, literally, to my mom that no one wanted to be my friend. On multiple occasions. But I saw no need to change anything about myself to be more likable.<br />
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Excluded. In a word, I felt excluded.<br />
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And that's the feeling that took me back today. Exclusion. And I realized that it's a deep-seated fear of mine. Exclusion. Not being accepted. Not being liked for who I am. Which sucks, just like in middle school, because I like me. Just how I am. And that was an epiphany I had today, that those fundamental characteristics... confident, outspoken, opinionated... those haven't changed. So as much as I <i>have</i> changed, I haven't changed at all.<br />
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Seven years. We've lived in Hawaii seven years and I feel like we (I) am just now starting to make some friends in the past few months. I mean, there were a few here and there along the way (you know who you are....) But usually they would either move or I'd shut them out before they had a chance to reject me. Before I could be/feel excluded. Because if someone rejects/excludes you and you don't know them well, no biggie. You can write it off as, "They don't know me well." But if you've hung out a few times, had real chats, gotten to know each other, yada yada... well, that's choosing against having you around. read: exclusion (refer to previous introspection regarding "deep-seated fears")<br />
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Now let's not be on a pity train here, because that's really not where I'm headed. Remember the whole "I like myself" spiel. Yah, I meant it. What I'm getting around to is, I'm grateful for my years in nerd-dom. I'm grateful to know what exclusion feels like. I'm grateful to know that there is life after craptasticness, and mostly, I'm grateful for my sympathy towards others which leads to a desire to include everyone on everything. To find common ground. To be genuinely interested in what other people care about. And I'm glad I can pass this on to my kids... I'm glad they don't see people that way (yes they're young, and I'll get back to you in 10 years, but so far, so good). Of course there's the downside of being afraid of getting to know people. But all in all, I'm glad I was a nerd.stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-24822535292306758382012-12-29T12:06:00.000-10:002012-12-29T13:23:22.322-10:00ITIWABNOTE: This post will talk about female stuff. And I'm not really one to use fluffy comfortable words, so if all that makes you squeamish, turn back now.<br />
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We started trying to get pregnant in the late summer of 2010. Casey was working off-island a lot, which didn't help, but I figured my other two pregnancies had happened quickly and easily and this one would follow suit. Casey wasn't completely sure he wanted another kiddo, but then one day he texted me ITIWAB. I said "What?" he said ITIWAB. I made a guess... yada yada yada ITIWAB = <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">T</span>hink <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">W</span>ant <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">B</span>aby. We were gung-ho on adding a little Jorgensen!<br />
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Weeks ticked on to months... I started living the 2-week cycle many hopeful mothers are familiar with: 2 weeks of hope-filled anticipation, "I think I'm nauseous!" or "My boobs are definitely sore." or "I'm WAY more tired than usual...." and 2 weeks of impatience and waiting for ovulation. After 6-8 months I knew something was up, and I was definitely having some weirdness in my cycle.<br />
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My periods were intense... heavy, painful, emotional, did I mention heavy? They were really heavy. Even between periods I was in pain: crampy, stabby, "I don't really want to get off the couch today" type pain. I asked friends and talked to family... I was overly worried because I don't have the best family history in the female organ department. (Lots of cancers. No one's female nether regions have lasted past 35.) So I just let the time keep ticking, and pretty much gave up on the whole "have another baby" thing. I was approaching 30 and that was the family marker... my woman parts had ticked their last tock and that was that. I'm the type of gal who has to mentally process stuff before I'm ready to swallow it whole, so I basically spent a year or so just digesting the fact that we were not going to have any more children, and I would probably have something severely wrong with me when I finally had the guts to see a doctor.<br />
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July 4th of this year we attended a breakfast party at a friend's house. I was menstruating and debating going at all, but decided instead to just double up my preparations (read: super tampon + one of those pads that feels like a diaper, and of course plenty of "reserves"). I reassured myself that it was only a 30ish minute drive to their house and I'd be fine. So wrong... oh so so wrong. The thing is, I would lose like clots of blood... chunks sometimes the size of walnuts. (Hey, I warned you in the beginning.) And gosh the pain.... So after spending an hour in a friend's bathroom cleaning up what look like a murder scene, I decided it was time to make the appointment. And I was ready to hear whatever the doc had to say.<br />
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Skip to late July... appointment day. They were all up in my business... ultrasounding and examining and all sorts of stuff. The diagnosis: crazy polycystic ovaries (there were all sorts of cysts up in there) and what appeared to be very progressed endometriosis (but you can't really know without exploratory surgery). Basically I was told that I would not get pregnant without assistance... lots of assistance. Period. Case and I had already had this talk and decided that we were completely and utterly happy with our family as it was and were not going to take any extraordinary measures to make more babies, so the goal was HEALTH. I wanted to feel healthy again. Doc said to come back in when my period started and he'd get me going on birth control to help out with the PCOS (Polycystic Ovaries Syndrome) and then once that was under control we'd do surgery for the endometriosis.<br />
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but then my period didn't start.<br />
Enter Elise.<br />
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<br />stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-54640129503426564272012-07-01T22:04:00.000-10:002012-07-01T22:14:46.315-10:00LONDON LETTERS: mumford&sons. huddersfield.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">the day has arrived. today i will see marcus mumford & sons in the flesh.</span> hear their voices. feel the thumping of the bass, the strum of the banjo. today is the day my ridiculous birthday present happens.<br />
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and today i can't sleep past 4:30am.<br />
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it's cold. i keep checking my phone watching the minutes crawl by. the sun's already out... is it really only 4:30? i think maybe my phone didn't adjust to the time change... where's my watch? 4:30... is it really that light out? pull back the curtains... yes, the sun is up at 4:30 in the morning. and it's cold. freezing. our window is covered in a layer of dewy moisture because our heater doesn't work. i need to sleep a little longer...<br />
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<b>5:30</b> still need to sleep longer...<br />
... zzzzz<br />
<b>6:00</b> seriously, it's only been a 1/2 hr. dear stefani, sleep looooonger.<br />
... zzzzzz<br />
<b>6:45</b> check facebook, instagram, read a little bit of pride and prejudice on my iphone...<br />
... zzzz<br />
<b>7:20</b> what time does the breakfast buffet open?? what time does it close? i don't want slim pickings... maybe we should go at the beginning. how can casey still be sleeping? itʻs full-on daylight out there... this is crazy. in 12 hrs. i'll be watching Mumford & Sons live in england. i'm crazy. this is crazy. i need more sleep.<br />
... z<br />
<b>7:30</b> i'm taking a shower. and then i'm waking up casey. maybe i'll lay out our outfits first. and do my hair and make-up and all that.<br />
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<b>8:00</b> i'm waking up casey.<br />
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we just had our first english breakfast... eggs, beans, bacon (but not like american bacon), sausage (but not like american sausage), and there was the continental all-you-can eat bar where we grabbed a couple croissants and fruit&yogurt bowls, maybe some frosted flakes too. oh and complimentary hot cocoa... mmmmm. tummies full, it's time to find markers and posterboard to make "the sign". </div>
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"the sign" has been part of the plan all along. i mean, how i am going to get on stage with Mumford & Sons if they don't know i exist? and how can i let them know i exist when they're on stage and i'm down with the huge sea of audience peoples? and what would get their attention?</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">a poster.</span></div>
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a poster exhibiting the fact that we have flown, literally, to the other side of the world to see them perform live in their home country. HI2UK12, that was my catchphrase/hashtag for the trip... Hawaii to United Kingdom in 2012 - HI2UK12. big deal, right? like seriously, big deal. so hereʻs the plan... find a spot near the front, close to the stage. hoist the sign at the perfect time when Marcus will see it, read it, and say something like, "oh really, you flew all the way from Hawaii to hear us?! that's brilliant! come on up here!" (make sure you read that in a british accent...) then we'll chit-chat on stage, he'll ask what i do back in hawaii, "oh i teach piano."</div>
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"oh so you're a musician? you ever play any of our songs?"</div>
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"yah! i did 'the cave' at the spring recital last year, and i've done 'awake my soul'. y'all are amazing!!"</div>
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"well, how about we do one together, whadya say?"</div>
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and that's how it's all gonna pan out. so i need to find a store that sells markers and posterboard so i can make a sign. <i>the sign.</i> and would you believe that Staples is in the UK?! (no wonder Dunder Mifflin never stood a chance... michael scott? the office? anyone... bueller... ) we made the sign right there at checkout... took up an entire register area to do it. </div>
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next stop: Huddersfield. Greenhead Park.<br />
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drive. park. pay for parking. find bathroom. find venue. arrival time: 2ish. Mumford & Sons goes on just before 9. in the interim: stroll around Huddersfield.<br />
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eat fish and chips.</div>
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man these are good fish and chips. and i had a coke too. but coke is coke no matter where you are... do you see these fish and chips?? amazing... greasy. and amazing. i don't know how they got a chunk of fish that big!</div>
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oh look, a cute little random man smiling at me from his front step. *click click</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and back to the festival...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOf5BEdgZ_Mxh_ksy0whkXVkdcz-23so4-Je36Eybsro9QKS_mZk-unJmPk8-nOyThy9sY3oDUmcadzL2kqmFibWZjmbU1sq6nd_u-kLGO6ZtzzpZxlXLBt9C2PU3lI20B3Bd3VDh3RM/s1600/huddersfield-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOf5BEdgZ_Mxh_ksy0whkXVkdcz-23so4-Je36Eybsro9QKS_mZk-unJmPk8-nOyThy9sY3oDUmcadzL2kqmFibWZjmbU1sq6nd_u-kLGO6ZtzzpZxlXLBt9C2PU3lI20B3Bd3VDh3RM/s640/huddersfield-1.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
buy tshirts. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">check.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
look at the booths... they all sell different brews of beer. no hot cocoa. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">check.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
find a good spot. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">check.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
hmmm... the stage is well guarded. there's no way to access it from the audience area. like, there's the audience, then a fence, then security guards, then the stage. all stairs and stage access are backstage. my plan can't work... they can't call me up on stage. it's literally impossible. and i never came up with a plan B.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">plan B:</span> have casey hold our spot and i'll go be all chatty with the security guard that's at the backstage access area. tell her our story... get in. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i approach the security guard... female. in her 40s. looks nice.</div>
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smile. smile big. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i tell our story... flew allthewayfromhawaii because we adore Mumford & Sons, young parents first time away from kids, fellow musicians, we love England, Yorkshire sure is beautiful... </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"no, love. but good on you for trying!" (everybody calls everybody 'love', it's great.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
then Ben walks by.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ben, the pianist/keyboardist for Mumford & Sons.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
walks right by me. like less than 2 ft. from me.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and i walk back to Casey, tell him the bad news, but that i saw Ben. i point to Ben. "see, he's right over there?"<br />
<br />
"well, why don't we go say hi to him?" says Casey.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
duh. of course.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so we did.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xSQ3uhARHlbKeI5NH7fQqhzg6yIv49PE_L9_qoiZnteiMjRqZ0b5KjB8mbRUCWbuU_n1jy3cTP7HNeAnrYIRvK1xow5oBXfJiSBq2pqrbaEdQzHkrV6szuHyjOszTwDdcgbnRWySETY/s1600/us&ben.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xSQ3uhARHlbKeI5NH7fQqhzg6yIv49PE_L9_qoiZnteiMjRqZ0b5KjB8mbRUCWbuU_n1jy3cTP7HNeAnrYIRvK1xow5oBXfJiSBq2pqrbaEdQzHkrV6szuHyjOszTwDdcgbnRWySETY/s640/us&ben.PNG" width="636" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
me: "we flew all the way from Hawaii to see you guys!"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
ben: "why?!"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
me: "because you're amazing! inspiring! some of the best music i've ever heard!"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
ben: "wow, well are you enjoying the festival?"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
me and case: words of affirmation.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
we said something else... i'm not sure what it was. it was surreal. then we walked away, and someone attacked him for a picture, and i realized we didn't get a picture. so we did.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">my one regret:</span> i should've said, "can we come backstage and meet everybody?"</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
i'm sure he would have said yes. oh well... HI2UK13! jk jk<br />
<br />
after several hours in some drizzly rain, which was awesome by the way, the time came. and this guy came to the stage to announce the band...<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFEqnHXT0NA__f-SnuFOVRA-txk51ItfP4srebZrAbLwIZuKUD8l2Y2r-xI95vRw9h1PnNrE1Q4Ta0QC433q31aXOBJiTtcJeQNL-jAVr9wWD2vn_OQCG8na4y-fkdXY457EnZGYTdyY/s1600/Mumford&Sons-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFEqnHXT0NA__f-SnuFOVRA-txk51ItfP4srebZrAbLwIZuKUD8l2Y2r-xI95vRw9h1PnNrE1Q4Ta0QC433q31aXOBJiTtcJeQNL-jAVr9wWD2vn_OQCG8na4y-fkdXY457EnZGYTdyY/s640/Mumford&Sons-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">and then it began...</span><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5tzwqnqDJGM?rel=0" width="853"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(FYI: no that is NOT me you hear singing/screaming at the beginning and such...)</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and here are a couple more for those who love Mumford & Sons' music as much as i do...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Thistles and Weeds</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wBTH15w7j_M?rel=0" width="853"></iframe>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Awake My Soul</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Nb3OaUsNYNw?rel=0" width="853"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and a few pics of the concert...</div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf19zivIJe8EDMT44wl8F2NxuLAqi4Y2P-WOdp1Qp0x8oCMdAhQBR8KI58MnbVYZU25YJZFQgy8QetoaMNHIgB8tPcwzskL-a3HW3BAUr1PIX8_JV1G6XNaCcuMVzJ2zgR4RdiZLJSdsI/s1600/Mumford&Sons-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf19zivIJe8EDMT44wl8F2NxuLAqi4Y2P-WOdp1Qp0x8oCMdAhQBR8KI58MnbVYZU25YJZFQgy8QetoaMNHIgB8tPcwzskL-a3HW3BAUr1PIX8_JV1G6XNaCcuMVzJ2zgR4RdiZLJSdsI/s640/Mumford&Sons-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8d7RKBjcp1LaKu1qnECtjk0ggQ7yOM1vOEqgR9TpMa_mECJW0Zkz0IQ_0zJiZODUw3aaCAhy46QjFfdG4NLY-4YJjB9_SiKAvSjUMu_5I1YKJTAX9JdW0KTr50C3s2AZOHfSiFjkYWo/s1600/Mumford&Sons-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8d7RKBjcp1LaKu1qnECtjk0ggQ7yOM1vOEqgR9TpMa_mECJW0Zkz0IQ_0zJiZODUw3aaCAhy46QjFfdG4NLY-4YJjB9_SiKAvSjUMu_5I1YKJTAX9JdW0KTr50C3s2AZOHfSiFjkYWo/s640/Mumford&Sons-6.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVgWkhRxTteqg3zEyz_PpTl_tYbktTlMrrGmLTfcdpt9ZnsZGP947yM-k2vqfnWkz_zAQ2FD_GJS2Gm_dYgaSSpPwHBoCaFXeLQF8L9tSeiD7bLUh1Cpn-lxb2NL5-WY1_c1uqgXsQkk/s1600/Mumford&Sons-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVgWkhRxTteqg3zEyz_PpTl_tYbktTlMrrGmLTfcdpt9ZnsZGP947yM-k2vqfnWkz_zAQ2FD_GJS2Gm_dYgaSSpPwHBoCaFXeLQF8L9tSeiD7bLUh1Cpn-lxb2NL5-WY1_c1uqgXsQkk/s640/Mumford&Sons-8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPR2evPybdFxika_7PeQa5YCW-i6FQ9IM6RPCbnwpxtnzSgkE3kDAQ0feuGWViSVFzSzQYyskfVcPWHVvqxL4zFn5YE_aI4lkGaHm2ZynxDYXOYnvvciR-Vrnv2JNorkBsFDoEIw3yecs/s1600/Mumford&Sons-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPR2evPybdFxika_7PeQa5YCW-i6FQ9IM6RPCbnwpxtnzSgkE3kDAQ0feuGWViSVFzSzQYyskfVcPWHVvqxL4zFn5YE_aI4lkGaHm2ZynxDYXOYnvvciR-Vrnv2JNorkBsFDoEIw3yecs/s640/Mumford&Sons-9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">in one word: epic.</span></div>
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-18418919978766145132012-06-28T19:00:00.000-10:002012-06-29T14:04:58.712-10:00LONDON LETTERS: skipton castle<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">first off, it's worth noting that i had severely underestimated the whole driving thing.</span> i figured, "yah yah, other side of the road, no big deal." and then our car was a stick shift, and i thought, "well that's a little tricky... shifting with the left hand, but still, we can handle." and by "we" of course i meant Casey, because there was no way i was gonna drive on day one. and then it was rainy, and foggy, and the roads weren't exactly wide enough for two cars, and then.... the round-a-bouts. they have their own set of rules, those round-a-bouts.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgYrOY184Mwko4jK3lmViysgUyWNmcju7IyQmh6FZn6LdtCmM5lx4p9cG_-07AUBE-rtW_j1ANj4b0bkjEKt8Hf0QlI3IPxTwzqLoh3O4phFxkfAqnOju6KB5mRm8jO8VuMmwFmXdup9s/s1600/UK_Roundabout_8_Cars.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgYrOY184Mwko4jK3lmViysgUyWNmcju7IyQmh6FZn6LdtCmM5lx4p9cG_-07AUBE-rtW_j1ANj4b0bkjEKt8Hf0QlI3IPxTwzqLoh3O4phFxkfAqnOju6KB5mRm8jO8VuMmwFmXdup9s/s320/UK_Roundabout_8_Cars.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
that roundabout right there... the one above... that's a pretty straight forward roundabout. it's the ones where the Garmin is saying, "Enter Roundabout and take 5th exit" that were freaking us out a little. okay okay, on day one, all of the roundabouts freaked us out. so like i was saying in the last post, once we got out of Manchester, we headed to Skipton.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWXli_ZPF_U8TelD7TUyD5tEgnf87najwsgc8oHlg-kW45yemb_37-1MMi4XeA38zzhZRQjWt4Qym8VgpNAb0rRN1ktcCJFr6HRa_SKylYOqNplsDZp2xDDHUGdovim_1EaF2BI4NyVg/s1600/IMG_8595.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWXli_ZPF_U8TelD7TUyD5tEgnf87najwsgc8oHlg-kW45yemb_37-1MMi4XeA38zzhZRQjWt4Qym8VgpNAb0rRN1ktcCJFr6HRa_SKylYOqNplsDZp2xDDHUGdovim_1EaF2BI4NyVg/s400/IMG_8595.PNG" width="266" /></a></div>
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literally, dozen upon dozens of little roundabouts in there. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRHqVjb7tcrjjfwFImXpJZTAadZ-Q6fOykBx1XPH5yziN3Xi3XxC7VlGM34WAts4SXSGnWyG-pGiLRZ2EbhM-pWuRYh0LZwbRLBbBzfn309KwfSytiwehWaFhg5A_6D4I56w5CtMfJGU/s1600/drive+to+skipton-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRHqVjb7tcrjjfwFImXpJZTAadZ-Q6fOykBx1XPH5yziN3Xi3XxC7VlGM34WAts4SXSGnWyG-pGiLRZ2EbhM-pWuRYh0LZwbRLBbBzfn309KwfSytiwehWaFhg5A_6D4I56w5CtMfJGU/s640/drive+to+skipton-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yc4Tn9iGMeo?rel=0" width="640"></iframe>
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pardon my incessant laughing... it was intense.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">a little over an hour-and-a-half later we arrived...</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fanijfoto/7463965298/" title="facade by fani j. foto, on Flickr"><img alt="facade" height="615" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7113/7463965298_af4533d6b2_b.jpg" width="922" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrqm7SkAENdyiZj9ztbvrlpcyeVfSgr57azTx3AJqVkXOR-JyxIRhT_KXHT4vU4q0n-xcfRaCpbbLGe2BkUl-MXAyKGoE7UZemvnldwAKakRcCUur_XUIsoj-lTqWT02M4QsQ6j365VA/s1600/skipton+exterior+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrqm7SkAENdyiZj9ztbvrlpcyeVfSgr57azTx3AJqVkXOR-JyxIRhT_KXHT4vU4q0n-xcfRaCpbbLGe2BkUl-MXAyKGoE7UZemvnldwAKakRcCUur_XUIsoj-lTqWT02M4QsQ6j365VA/s640/skipton+exterior+collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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(des or mais is medieval french, meaning "henceforth")</div>
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<br /></div>
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there is a large section of the castle that is not open to visitors... because someone lives there. isn't that amazing! they live in a castle... a castle! this whole section pictured below... private residence.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RT6uQRzqh59YjC7HVHma4DkP40VddLmIg6b_zodEE78UtHeaynO7MX1Rmg4uZA6vlWRW16SeN5DgVtaYoz_4UYSM7tR1sNOW_tQDdQ9vYC-OYxLnHMZhaT15SLFEkUZ-vb03_9-E1oE/s1600/SKIPTON-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7RT6uQRzqh59YjC7HVHma4DkP40VddLmIg6b_zodEE78UtHeaynO7MX1Rmg4uZA6vlWRW16SeN5DgVtaYoz_4UYSM7tR1sNOW_tQDdQ9vYC-OYxLnHMZhaT15SLFEkUZ-vb03_9-E1oE/s640/SKIPTON-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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all over the castle were these crosses (see below-right...) they were for the archers defending the castle during times of war or attack. those slits are only about 2 inches wide. youʻd think they would be completely protected behind that tiny cross, but we learned that longbows were incredibly accurate in the right hands, and attackers standing over 80 ft. below had over a 30% accuracy rate, so 1 in 3 arrows would make it through. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsklw9WbFXALe5lfZ_haTgGecgTHEZcUX32xUtVYPtzTWLwX3mrkP-0wBkPywHYg5tBdBOgGPcyJcsW0HMoWdRuWXrvJqrisfUuCA7q6kuewXaEgNErXQGp6GAOgB5BQG_Z8b2_1DJENU/s1600/SKIPTON-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsklw9WbFXALe5lfZ_haTgGecgTHEZcUX32xUtVYPtzTWLwX3mrkP-0wBkPywHYg5tBdBOgGPcyJcsW0HMoWdRuWXrvJqrisfUuCA7q6kuewXaEgNErXQGp6GAOgB5BQG_Z8b2_1DJENU/s400/SKIPTON-7.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqi9FlvG9K5fEN3n5GvzHQB5FKzvxLQEP1vASkTydUoTe79p58EMHvQnl5LILV49GZGUbiepnp6fZ9sozoZd2PJ0dqBxEr6MLjbTNqnBPAIpeUzFICFe5_QfUS88EfuUTogqLlHkqpFes/s1600/SKIPTON-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqi9FlvG9K5fEN3n5GvzHQB5FKzvxLQEP1vASkTydUoTe79p58EMHvQnl5LILV49GZGUbiepnp6fZ9sozoZd2PJ0dqBxEr6MLjbTNqnBPAIpeUzFICFe5_QfUS88EfuUTogqLlHkqpFes/s400/SKIPTON-9.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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the castle was built in the 1090 and has received very little renovation since the 1600s... it was originally made of wood, and after faring poorly through its first attack, it was fortified in stone. the original drawbridge and moat and dungeon and kitchen... everything... were very well preserved (the original stone version, that is). this hook here was part of the drawbridge/castle gate unit. i loved the way it had worn into the stone wall over the centuries.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzjp2QHzKitKUx6pd67-5lrBEu7WIOHlnBBJHAV_XSuY0hl4TrT9fLChiHsUslHlnZnd7BxamLlclwEPCMhGj_N4ZsZsoJouFWm_fxuQPu3upIrIcyIcMvrwQ8SmiG98XZcLqC_KPpCcg/s1600/SKIPTON-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzjp2QHzKitKUx6pd67-5lrBEu7WIOHlnBBJHAV_XSuY0hl4TrT9fLChiHsUslHlnZnd7BxamLlclwEPCMhGj_N4ZsZsoJouFWm_fxuQPu3upIrIcyIcMvrwQ8SmiG98XZcLqC_KPpCcg/s640/SKIPTON-11.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">now letʻs take a gander inside...</span><br />
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pictured below is the "oven" and bathroom. yes, i'm standing in the oven. back then, kitchen duty was a mans job, several men actually. there were two of these huge fire places in the kitchen, as well as several smaller loaf cooking ovens. apparently the men who worked close to the fires, like the carvers, usually worked half-naked due to the heat. (the middle pic is looking up the oven shaft.)<br />
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the pic on the right is the toilet. its a concrete platform with a bum-sized hole that opens up several stories over a stream. in theory, you did your business and it fell right on down to the stream. (you can kinda sorta see the stream below, through the trees.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1RrpiVtJtoYLQ3BOjgL7jQrnvMuIbRUsRSn8fAhKVe9L9lDr7F-LyOZ83_SjN22bMOdL3zyll914fhuQ8QQSqCRZVrgy2yj6LX7aN2_jN6QxNZmH8K4Jvr99HI-fxY58LZcZamDHnDc/s1600/skipton+interior+collage+kitchbath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1RrpiVtJtoYLQ3BOjgL7jQrnvMuIbRUsRSn8fAhKVe9L9lDr7F-LyOZ83_SjN22bMOdL3zyll914fhuQ8QQSqCRZVrgy2yj6LX7aN2_jN6QxNZmH8K4Jvr99HI-fxY58LZcZamDHnDc/s1600/skipton+interior+collage+kitchbath.jpg" /></a></div>
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this is the banquet hall... so imagine a couple of super long tables and dozens and dozens of people. this picture doesnʻt really do it justice but this room was enormous! there is a human sized fireplace along the left wall, and there were a couple of cannons in the rooms too. just for decoration iʻm pretty sure... unless they used them for some epic food fights.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkzcQyR5rCe26EAOkcLGYfjowZuznlryzvwTybdigx2pPW0m6Mh_Zmxux0SRTq9UNhGjM7gKkjKsL4Rr-JpWOUCgLYI2R8SQtajMXmeUyHE_qhX0hP3IwAihBfB_z9lzo8_PEJwUMLdk/s1600/SKIPTON-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkzcQyR5rCe26EAOkcLGYfjowZuznlryzvwTybdigx2pPW0m6Mh_Zmxux0SRTq9UNhGjM7gKkjKsL4Rr-JpWOUCgLYI2R8SQtajMXmeUyHE_qhX0hP3IwAihBfB_z9lzo8_PEJwUMLdk/s640/SKIPTON-12.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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these are the north-facing windows of the drawing room. it was the "ladies room" where the women and children would retire after dinner to do needlework and stuff... i donʻt really know what they did. if it were me, i would have made a pot of hot cocoa and watched Pride and Prejudice.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqYSxIe8aZ4ouNXyvp-wEdwpNpBsBrH8WecprWFBbanu9WlnmABlJEfKomwVxh7gbSBCiGKvXb5xuOxGyHeQgrpsCZju4MZAoBDAaTJj3il819soLvu8_D_TLIcAntm3DDBXAOHnpD30/s1600/SKIPTON-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqYSxIe8aZ4ouNXyvp-wEdwpNpBsBrH8WecprWFBbanu9WlnmABlJEfKomwVxh7gbSBCiGKvXb5xuOxGyHeQgrpsCZju4MZAoBDAaTJj3il819soLvu8_D_TLIcAntm3DDBXAOHnpD30/s640/SKIPTON-17.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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this is a view from one of the watchtower windows, overlooking the castle entrance as well as the town of Skipton.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bdv1ie7fAlpGyrrC9pPZM7mEvIxu_OOa09j0SKzUA41pqwdgSsD2FZa16d2rR9K2N5PC38W2AP6drPJJdRzaY6ENj-OWf4P6lbD7oP44M4x1qDkhdxCkVbL2AxJHa4sBR9XZtwHLvzQ/s1600/SKIPTON-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bdv1ie7fAlpGyrrC9pPZM7mEvIxu_OOa09j0SKzUA41pqwdgSsD2FZa16d2rR9K2N5PC38W2AP6drPJJdRzaY6ENj-OWf4P6lbD7oP44M4x1qDkhdxCkVbL2AxJHa4sBR9XZtwHLvzQ/s640/SKIPTON-19.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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and next... the dungeon.<br />
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<img height="678" id="il_fi" src="http://www.dur.ac.uk/paul.hodgkinson/wordpress/wp-content/photos/SkiptonCastleDungeon.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="452" /></div>
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<a href="http://www.dur.ac.uk/paul.hodgkinson/wordpress/index.php/2011/12/august-randoms/" target="_blank">via</a></div>
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<img height="336" id="il_fi" src="http://www.peaktorial.co.uk/yorkshire%20galleries/images/Castle_Dungeon_045.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="500" /></div>
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<a href="http://www.peaktorial.co.uk/yorkshire%20galleries/imagepages/Castle_Dungeon_045.html" target="_blank">via</a></div>
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what i thought was most interesting about the dungeon was its absolute seclusion. no windows. no nearby chambers or anything... it was by nothing. and completely shut-off. i wondered how people lived for very long in those conditions, and wondered what type of people had been incarcerated there, and for what crimes. there were etchings on the dungeon walls, a coat of arms/shield, some shapes... in a nutshell, it was dark and it smelled funny. so we went outside...</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the courtyard: in the middle of the castle there is a courtyard, surrounded by the domestic buildings of the castle. </span><br />
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these rain gutters were part of the 1650s renovation, which was under the direction of Lady Anne Clifford... they are made of lead, as was the winery equipment and water storage containers. the castle had only one well or spring within its perimeter, which was piped in, but if they were under siege and the pipeline was cut off, the gutters were used as part of a rain-water catchment system that funneled the water into a cistern under the conduit court.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9FPVE4A9iud0pFakgsRKIE2lEQHTn92qGoZ-92jzzQaRtAJeYZbGIDGLYh6B-3L92MwUbPiuWD6Z72bQeVNk0nCNDBOyi6QvEawgA7La9q-7TBLivnuZLfwosqwoiTlcmb0kvn9BQvo/s1600/skipton+rain+gutters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9FPVE4A9iud0pFakgsRKIE2lEQHTn92qGoZ-92jzzQaRtAJeYZbGIDGLYh6B-3L92MwUbPiuWD6Z72bQeVNk0nCNDBOyi6QvEawgA7La9q-7TBLivnuZLfwosqwoiTlcmb0kvn9BQvo/s640/skipton+rain+gutters.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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and hereʻs the court...</div>
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this ewe tree was planted by Lady Anne in 1659 to celebrate the completion of the restoration work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU8TDseUggNmIMk3okplbyWwFgjtcZfy4mjJoWSHucy3I80W0ppALWXHGY_qYM6AHMdfq7WGfoBvgx9aWauFfdfemnNJ8jiibzdrNmYWpEJe7xLbjjMhCCuB3hpSZNmsBNIq8XoRrPq0o/s1600/SKIPTON-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU8TDseUggNmIMk3okplbyWwFgjtcZfy4mjJoWSHucy3I80W0ppALWXHGY_qYM6AHMdfq7WGfoBvgx9aWauFfdfemnNJ8jiibzdrNmYWpEJe7xLbjjMhCCuB3hpSZNmsBNIq8XoRrPq0o/s640/SKIPTON-20.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<img height="640" id="il_fi" src="http://www.norcimo.com/fun/castles/photos/skipton/Skipton02.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="480" /></div>
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<a href="http://www.norcimo.com/fun/castles/skipton/" target="_blank">via</a></div>
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this coat of arms is located above one of the many doors accessible via the courtyard... itʻs actually the arms of Margaret Bromflete, who was the mother of Henry Clifford, he being Anne Cliffordʻs grandfather. got that??</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWV_1Vy8q5SeWAhNFBsxAXf-b18eg4fgqRQeA_LAfktICU2REXdmsZYQRqh3-UNqKcpaSZd_IOvrNF7AJCXBMN3pPTaNEOhKJPkvEyK-U9pLsGBgnQpOLqIrWrQ-k7rphkvKgdNiUQPgM/s1600/exterior+details.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWV_1Vy8q5SeWAhNFBsxAXf-b18eg4fgqRQeA_LAfktICU2REXdmsZYQRqh3-UNqKcpaSZd_IOvrNF7AJCXBMN3pPTaNEOhKJPkvEyK-U9pLsGBgnQpOLqIrWrQ-k7rphkvKgdNiUQPgM/s640/exterior+details.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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the archway pictured bottom right (above) is the entrance to the courtyard if you are coming by way of Lady Annaʻs main entrance to the castle.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the chapel.</span></div>
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built in the 12th century, last record of use 1637 for a baptism, and then fell into derepair during the civil war... became a barn for the animals. it was carefully cleaned and uncovered in the late 1950s and renovation work is slowly underway...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09Ka94Mg2INIso-bO8vKD8Wn0V3r-uOKalsL1jviZSfi_WtYMSanKA4n41tpus7EY8UyAZWg0M1F1ISmvNhQXkywmvx5mfYPl3zURCO_Huy4QyLBeL5KwQyu0alNPFxCqEF5gcz1v7Uw/s1600/SKIPTON-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09Ka94Mg2INIso-bO8vKD8Wn0V3r-uOKalsL1jviZSfi_WtYMSanKA4n41tpus7EY8UyAZWg0M1F1ISmvNhQXkywmvx5mfYPl3zURCO_Huy4QyLBeL5KwQyu0alNPFxCqEF5gcz1v7Uw/s640/SKIPTON-26.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0802ZnZTdUpsQ9xcqpe85sHv4UqRgJ-oWcjw8GYRpVEe0F7xtgXo-DDU7Kl8B0-voMYl6s8V8Lx2J1rCShLEIbarYUfqzOnAK3rPkKCdixnrgwLk-RItDZNdPcgjUj83yM1MO72caow/s1600/SKIPTON-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0802ZnZTdUpsQ9xcqpe85sHv4UqRgJ-oWcjw8GYRpVEe0F7xtgXo-DDU7Kl8B0-voMYl6s8V8Lx2J1rCShLEIbarYUfqzOnAK3rPkKCdixnrgwLk-RItDZNdPcgjUj83yM1MO72caow/s640/SKIPTON-27.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIC99QkJBPrVrcXnU8SedR8lRbA3FmbX_0tzLUEgGkNsgFLETjcL6pIbSaOwLEMPQQXE2Jm0-PVOhJE1FyjsLNUvTk2rYv8Ko8c4p9vhT4GQ0gqW9QFLOf-lq_2TcRWHevhJEV8HsboMg/s1600/SKIPTON-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIC99QkJBPrVrcXnU8SedR8lRbA3FmbX_0tzLUEgGkNsgFLETjcL6pIbSaOwLEMPQQXE2Jm0-PVOhJE1FyjsLNUvTk2rYv8Ko8c4p9vhT4GQ0gqW9QFLOf-lq_2TcRWHevhJEV8HsboMg/s640/SKIPTON-25.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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the view from the castle looking over Skipton...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLXRgBSWSoHBtvaVqkTs_m_YSsnFUD1jQicfCvz_xfHt4nTTyF95KMkwsavRk2hj5JQn9BHzSBaXW2vBztgVYepG3qByffTTWwY0xDP3mgYlfYVzLBAvVzMDTYFZ5Mdq1pD08D4uTjbM/s1600/SKIPTON-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLXRgBSWSoHBtvaVqkTs_m_YSsnFUD1jQicfCvz_xfHt4nTTyF95KMkwsavRk2hj5JQn9BHzSBaXW2vBztgVYepG3qByffTTWwY0xDP3mgYlfYVzLBAvVzMDTYFZ5Mdq1pD08D4uTjbM/s640/SKIPTON-28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and that concludes our castle tour...</span></div>
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just outside of Skipton Castle is the Holy Trinity Church of Skipton</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPNvdX3AU1ovkftp3aWVLnAA-c91qz-yfWp0dTTeRqxhL9f3JHddCHCsQMvaJWljbZ_c0MpS3m5Dq8_AT4RmYoWkY11EctMyIlnFkYDD08jPZ54uVkKpX72AVA51DTrnyso2xK7ry9xk/s1600/SKIPTON-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipPNvdX3AU1ovkftp3aWVLnAA-c91qz-yfWp0dTTeRqxhL9f3JHddCHCsQMvaJWljbZ_c0MpS3m5Dq8_AT4RmYoWkY11EctMyIlnFkYDD08jPZ54uVkKpX72AVA51DTrnyso2xK7ry9xk/s640/SKIPTON-29.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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with a kind old gardener who chatted to us for nearly a 1/2 hr. while our teeth chattered in the cold.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjWAjmDRMOFuqjA9t1pqpD-qtZtNVz3tRUwRQoksfLtP6ff4s1ZPxdhBlVW4nd54w6dmhf1Nihy80BnKUZRKkZJX8_qmFVLNxrpPhRogLk648yhSThdnbyhdTavRBpgrFsfwKodEn2VI/s1600/SKIPTON-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjWAjmDRMOFuqjA9t1pqpD-qtZtNVz3tRUwRQoksfLtP6ff4s1ZPxdhBlVW4nd54w6dmhf1Nihy80BnKUZRKkZJX8_qmFVLNxrpPhRogLk648yhSThdnbyhdTavRBpgrFsfwKodEn2VI/s640/SKIPTON-31.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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what i loved most about Skipton Castle was its history. i loved being around something so old, that had been a part of so many peoples lives... it had such an amazing feeling, to walk the stairs and imagine the centuries of footfalls that had worn away the stone. and the fact that itʻs still being used, being lived in, is so remarkable! history... so much history.</div>
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with the drive time, we spent our entire friday with skipton, and saturday was the concert... Mumford and Sons here we come!!</div>
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-72645965412001392892012-06-24T21:53:00.002-10:002012-06-29T14:05:11.044-10:00LONDON LETTERS: prep and leave<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">camping. we had already planned on camping</span> from fri - wed. and the kids were super stoked about it, so i wasn't gonna bail on the idea. that just meant a little less prep time. we went to the passport office on friday and handed in our paperwork, spent the weekend camping, then hit up the memorial day sales for some cold-weather clothes. (NOTE: hawaii does not sell jackets. probably never, but definitely not in June. also, no long-sleeved white shirts. seems simple, right? yah, not so much. i ended up going to sports authority and just buying some under armor shirts...) we decided to pack-up camp monday night, so i had 36ish hours to unpack camping gear/clothes/food, do laundry, clean the house, pack kids suitcases and grown-ups suitcases... oh yah, and pick up our passports.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">wednesday night.</span> our plane didn't leave until 10:30. we dropped of the kiddos at 6:30, threw our bags in the car, and headed out. (i'm really proud of the fact that we packed super light... i might mention it a few times. we packed super light.) our route took us to LAX then Washington/Dulles, then Manchester, England. FLIGHT 1: 5ish hours. FLIGHT 2: 5ish hours. FLIGHT 3: 7ish hours. Total fly time from point A to point B: 17 hrs. ish. Total travel time from point A to point B: 24 hrs. ish... oh, and we almost missed our flight to Manchester... no joke. we were chilling in Washington/Dulles... i had already begun my hot cocoa addiction, which lasted for the duration of the trip. i was rubbing essential oils on my feet because i was determined to A) defy all past experience and not get sick with all the flying (ps. jackie k. if you read this, i want you to know we were constantly putting neosporin in our noses. totally works!) B) chill-out my asthma before arriving in a new climate/environment, etc. we were sitting 20 feet from our gate... and we thought it was weird that there was a flight to Paris leaving 30 minutes before our flight to Manchester, U.K. was supposed to leave. We kept saying how that was some magic to get one plane taxied out and another in, unloaded, cleaned, loaded and on its way in only 30 minutes. It got closer and closer to leave time and the flight to Paris was obviously running late.... we were uber confused. NOTE: ALWAYS CHECK THE SCREENS!! I mean, everyone knows this. We know this. But for same brainless reason we were just going by our tickets... As I'm sure you've figured out, our gate had been changed. To be more correct, our terminal had been changed. IT WAS INTENSE!! We grabbed our small carry-ons (we packed super light... so cool) and booked it! When we arrived at the correct gate it was on last boarding call! We walked in, buckled up, and left. Like I said, intense!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">We arrived in Manchester, England, Friday morning at 9:30,</span> picked up our rental car, and started driving. On the left side of the road. Through the most insane driving situations ever... let's all say "rounadbout" together... And an hour or so later we were in Skipton, home of Skipton Castle.<br />
<br />stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-74942717320459561312012-06-11T21:20:00.001-10:002012-06-29T14:05:21.769-10:00LONDON LETTERS: badminton<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">on tuesday, may 22nd i got an email from Mumford and Sons...</span> because we're bff and we txt and email and comment on each others FB statuses and stuff, right... and mostly because i'm signed up on their fan club lists. i skimmed over it with a tear in my eye... something about their very own series of festivals called "stopovers" and the first one was in two weeks in a place called Huddersfield... tickets still available. WHAT?!?! ticket still... what?!? a little bubble bounced around inside of me thinking, "maybe we could go!! there are still tickets??!! what is this? who am i kidding... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">IT'S IN 10 DAYS!!!???!</span>" then i google-mapped Huddersfield and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">lo.and.behold</span> it's about 3 hours north of London.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i think this is when i exploded. in a good way...</span></div>
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<img height="376" id="il_fi" src="http://cdn.gentlemenoftheroad.com/images/huddersfield.png" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="294" /></div>
<br />
i called casey. explained the situation. he thought i was insane, because that would be a normal response. i looked up plane ticket prices, train ticket prices, hotel stay prices, car rental prices... then i called casey again. with the figures in hand he thought i was insan<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">er</span>. then i texted my friends echo and becca, and talked to my other friends ezinne and brian... it was pretty equally divided between, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"girl, you cray."</span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"DO IT!!!" </span>all of this happened on tuesday.<br />
<br />
i had a moment tuesday afternoon when i realized this was utterly ridiculous and of course we weren't going to spontaneously leave for england next week and whatthecrazywasithinking, and me and my iphone went in the shower (with it's waterproof case, mind you) and i cried my little eyes out while i listened to Mumford and Sons in the shower. (seriously can't believe i just admitted that... so SO corny.) i wrote it off and dismissed this whole business of spontaneous world travelling. really now, i'm an adult.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">WEDNESDAY the 23rd:</span></div>
wednesday i woke up with the whole mess behind me. did i still want to go? well hello, of course. but i'm just not the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type of gal. i plan things out. i'm careful with the monies. i make responsible decision. i'm almost 30 for crying out loud!!! i don't follow bands around paying too much money to watch them sweat and strum on stage... c'mon now! wednesday i was normal again. i put on my running shoes, dropped the girls off at their respective places of education, and headed to the bike path for a jog. but then i decided to call mom and dad. mom didn't answer, so i called dad. and we chatted. and he said i was crazy if i didn't go. he said, i quote, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"GO! and call me when you get there!"</span> then just after that mom called me back... she was on the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"girl, you cray!"</span> side of things. so i badmintoned the idea back and forth, back and forth.<br />
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<i>right shoulder voice:</i> live the dream! <i>left shoulder voice:</i> be practical.</div>
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<i>right shoulder voice:</i> once in a lifetime crazy spontaneous opportunity? <i>left shoulder voice:</i> be practical!</div>
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<i>right shoulder voice:</i> you only turn 30 once... <i>left shoulder voice:</i> <b>be practical!</b></div>
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and then there were the real, honest-to-goodness roadblocks...</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">OBSTACLES:</span><br />
<b>#1</b> expired passports: can we even get them renewed in time?? it's memorial day weekend... that's one less business day before we would be leaving... we would be leaving in 7 days, only 3 business days!! this is impossible...<br />
<b>#2</b> the plane ticket prices were bouncing all over the place... if i couldn't get them for the cheap end of things, i WAS NOT going to pay the higher price.<br />
<b>#3</b> if we could get the passports renewed AND get the plane tickets at the cheap prices, were the concert tickets still available??? what if i paid for the crazy plane tickets and BOOM no concert tickets?!?!<br />
<b>#4</b> am i really going to spend an exorbitant amount of money to go to a concert?? (justification: not just a concert, a country. i'm unreasonably fascinated with england...)<br />
<b>#5</b> last, but not least, child care. could i find people to watch my lovely little humans for that long of a time?? i mean, i think they're adorable and pleasurable and easy to handle... when well fed. but would other people??<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i called casey again and we talked it over...</span> he gave me the go-ahead. well, basically he said if i could really pull it off, then go for it. but i shouldn't start counting any chickens, if you know what i mean... and he still thought i was insane. (side note: he loves mumford & sons just as much as me... and he likes castles. so, you know, just saying this wasn't a one-sided wonderland. it's like a 80/20 wonderland...)<br />
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<img height="450" id="il_fi" src="http://www.sprattonhall.co.uk/_files/images/Trips/year_6_visit_to_warwick_castle_22.6.10_069.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="600" /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">RESOLUTIONS:</span><br />
<b>#1</b> i called the passport office in honolulu and had the shock of my life when they said they could expedite a passport renewal and it could be done in 3 BUSINESS DAYS!!! (they did it in 2 for us because we smiled a lot.) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CHECK</span><br />
<b>#2</b> after confirming that we were in the clear for the passports i jumped back on every travel sight you've ever heard of, and Wednesday early-afternoon the tickets dropped to the lowest they had been the entire time... and i went for it. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CHECK</span><br />
<b>#3</b> almost simultaneously, on another open window, i clicked the "purchase" button for the Mumford & Sons Huddersfield, U.K. Stopover tickets. we were officially ticketed, intended-attendees to a Mumford & Sons concert IN THE U.K. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CHECK</span><br />
<b>#4</b> yes. i am. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CHECK</span><br />
<b>#5</b> we called grandma (who, by the way, does not actually live in HI) to see if she'd like to fly over... unavailable. checked with several family friends who we've known since moving here... it seems like people like to leave the rock in the summer, and everyone was in fact leaving the rock... i had had a few friends who had already offered to child-watch if we decided to go, but one was coming sick, another was literally having a baby... literally. another was traveling right after we got back... just bad timing all around. but somehow, miraculously, three amazing families sprang up to the rescue to watch my women. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CHECK</span><br />
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<i>right shoulder voice: </i>we're going to england! <i>left shoulder voice:</i> mumford & sons!!</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">and so the countdown started...</span> T-minus 6 days to departure. and <b>holycrapwe'regoingtoengland...nextweek</b> started to set-in.stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-53636895198387046672012-06-10T07:19:00.002-10:002012-06-29T14:05:32.742-10:00LONDON LETTERS: the let-down<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">so remember <a href="http://colormecontented.blogspot.com/2012/01/questions.html">that one time</a></span> i said i wanted to go to london and see Mumford and Sons perform live? i mean, i wanted to go to london anyways... to england in general. let's be honest, i want to move there. (yes, really.) and so i scoured their website, <a href="http://www.mumfordandsons.com/">Mumford and Sons</a>, and eagerly awaited concert dates in london. really anywhere in england that was closeish to london would do.<br />
<br />
i looked daily. literally. shows in denmark, scotland, sweden, germany, america, the netherlands... lots and lots of shows. none in england. i think sometime in late march - early april i slackened on my daily vigil and it became more of a weekly vigil. i even facebooked them and explained my situation... 30th birthday coming. want to see them. london, england. etc. etc. (i didn't expect a response, and didn't get one.) i just needed a show date so that i could start working out plane tickets and hotels and all those little details.<br />
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i was kind of getting disheartened. maybe they weren't planning on touring the lovely great britain this year. maybe they wouldn't post show dates with enough time for me to plan the trip, buy tickets for everything, etc. maybe it wasn't meant to be... (let's all have a collective sigh together.) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">then i got the fortune cookie...</span> now generally i'm not a big believer in fortune cookies. but this was a sign, people! seriously... it was MY fortune in MY fortune cookie. it came to me.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">hope.</span></div>
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so i kept checking show dates, tour schedules, i looked everywhere! sometime in late april - early may i checked their website after a week or two of slacking and low and behold SHOWS IN ENGLAND!! none right in london, but hey, close enough! so i searched through each show individually looking at concert dates and available tickets... annnnnddddd<br />
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every.single.one.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sold out.</div>
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what? how? whyyyyy?!?!</div>
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i searched the interwebs and learned that they had all sold-out within 20 minutes!! and were being sold on ebay for way too much money. i was desperate so i went to ebay... they were sold-out there too. and let me tell you, they were going for WAY too much money.<br />
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so i clung to my little fortune of hope and decided i'd check again in a few weeks to see if they would post any shows for the fall. maybe, just maybe, more shows in the u.k. or maybe answer my desperate facebook message... or, you know, somehow learn of my desperate plight and just fly over here and do a show right in my backyard! (maybe this is what casey had up his sleeve the whole time??!!)<br />
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but somewhere down deep in the back of my head i knew i had missed my chance.<br />
and this year was not the year.<br />
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<br />stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-67616171588258667552012-01-31T10:19:00.000-10:002012-01-31T10:19:57.034-10:00when i grow up...<div style="text-align: center;">iʻm gonna be cool like this guy...<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Yk2ZrS0ZS6g" width="640"></iframe></div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-53646980481324448212012-01-26T11:50:00.000-10:002012-01-26T11:50:01.933-10:00why iʻm juicing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">hi. iʻm on a juice fast.</span> yes, itʻs a trend. yah, iʻm sure it will die down. no, itʻs not my first juice fast. yes, iʻll probably do it again. no, not all of the juices are tasty. yes, iʻm doing it to lose weight.<br />
<br />
so hereʻs the thing... i like me. iʻm beautiful. (in every single way...) i donʻt have body image issues. if iʻm wearing shorts at the beach itʻs because i didnʻt shave, not because iʻm trying to hide my white and thighs. iʻm of the opinion that a body, no matter its appearance, is amazing. i like my body. always have.<br />
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that said, my body is almost twice the size it was before kids. yah, seriously. like quarter-pounder to half-pounder, like 6 oz juice box to 12 oz can, like toddler feet to teenage feet. like size 4 to size... wait a second. why donʻt clothing sizes double with body size??<br />
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why i want the smaller body back: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CLOTHES</span> i like a certain style of clothes, and that style doesnʻt fit a larger physique.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">YOGA.</span> i like yoga. yoga is not made for people with heft. some of the positions are literally impossible... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">HUSBAND.</span> he doesnʻt care much. but i want to give him back the wife he married, with the cut abs and such. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CHILDREN.</span> reason numero uno. i want them to learn a healthy lifestyle. an active lifestyle. a whole foods lifestyle. i want them to develop healthy habits. and i am their mommy... it starts with me.<br />
<br />
oh, and i turn 30 this year, so when i meet Marcus Mumford at a concert in London, and then heʻll be like, "wow, youʻre great at piano, and you know all our songs. wanna join the band?" and iʻll be like, "wow, yah! thatʻd be awesome!! what about Ben?" (the current piano/accordian player...) and heʻll be like, "oh, Ben is gonna play the mandolin and fiddle now." and so Iʻll say, "YES!" and then theyʻll change their names to Mumford and Sons and Daughter. yah, when that happens i wanna be healthy enough to sing and dance around on stage without losing my breath.stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-16698859648897417892012-01-10T13:36:00.000-10:002012-01-10T13:36:45.152-10:00questions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">what do you do</span> when you want to say something to the world and it's too long for facebook but too short for a blog? i'm sure you've been there...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">and especially when you haven't blogged in oh, say,</div><div style="text-align: center;">6 months...</div><div style="text-align: center;">and it's not like you wanna say anything of epic proportions. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">so i guess i'll start blogging again, cause i can't just say something and then go silent again. that's just not right.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">here's the thing. i turn 30 this year. big deal, right? right. i'm excited about it. i've always liked grown-ups and i'm eager to become one. or, i mean, i am one. but 30 is a whole new level of grown up. 30. i'm turning 30. so i told Casey, "Casey, i turn 30 this year. you should probably start planning now." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">now mind you, i don't actually turn 30 until July. but it's a big deal. it takes preparation. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">my ever patient and loving husband says, "well, what do you want? what do you wanna do?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"go to London and see Mumford and Sons perform live."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">the problem was he thought i was kidding. </div><div style="text-align: left;">and i thought i was serious.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-87246559266104773132011-07-15T15:17:00.000-10:002011-07-15T15:17:17.359-10:00decision decisions...so, this summer we're painting our house. and these are two of the houses i adore...<br />
<br />
i like the light and airy and welcoming feel of this home, but we aren't going to do wood shingles, or even fake wood shingles... we're not redoing the exterior completely just repainting. so i could have the COLOR of old faded wood shingles, but not the texture.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://cptnrin.smugmug.com/photos/i-7CpwzQC/0/O/i-7CpwzQC.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and yes, i would paint the garage and front door... probably something similar to the color they painted theirs.</div><div style="text-align: center;">gosh this house is G.O.R.G.E.O.U.S. !!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the other option...</div><div style="text-align: left;">what i like about this is the bold colors. casey really wants to paint the house darkish for dirtiness purposes. my fear is that the dark color on our smallish house will swallow it up whole... make it shrink right before our very eyes!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd179/leahnwright/20101221_5571-1.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">and yes, i would paint the door... bright yellow. and probably the garage door too... (because our front door is actually on the side so you can't actually see it... really. true story.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so, which exterior colors do you like??</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">help.</span></div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-3159865510446261902011-06-29T12:36:00.000-10:002011-06-29T12:36:24.782-10:00um... wow.<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="510" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rR94NDIfGmA?rel=0&hd=1" width="853"></iframe></div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-6023439920648552942011-05-03T10:50:00.000-10:002011-05-03T10:50:14.181-10:00rattlesnakes, robbers, & right and wrong<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">a small group of friends were hiking through the desert.</span> they were laughing and talking, joking around with each other... that's why they didn't hear the warning signs. in fact, none of them had a clue they were inches from a rattlesnake until it struck, piercing one boy's leg just above the ankle. the other two boys ran off after the snake, tromping through the sagebrush wielding nothing but their pocket knives. they searched til nearly sundown when they finally found the snake and made swift retribution with their little pocket knives. they ran back to their friend, dead snake in tow. they were exultant! their friend would be so glad they had gotten that stupid snake... only he wasn't. he wasn't anything. because while they were tromping off after the assailant, the venom had spread through his body. the boy was dead.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">we, america, have killed our snake.</span> revenge was not swift. the consequences were not minimal. the devastation that has occurred in the wake is far too copious to overlook. but now that snake cannot bite anyone else. this is a good thing. it really is. but there are a lot of other snakes, and the battle has only just begun. and our country has suffered immensely for it, for this desire for revenge or retribution... while we've been away chasing a snake, our homefront has amassed an incredible amount of debt, million are homeless and unemployed, our reputation with former allies has been tarnished. we have died a bit and a poison has begun to spread.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">two things come to mind... </span>(before i continue it's worth noting that i see the world through a religious lens. i believe in God. i believe in Christ. i believe in the validity of records of mens dealings with God, namely the Bible and Book of Mormon.) and in the Book of Mormon there is a story of a prophet's son named Nephi. He and his family lived in Jerusalem, but the Lord instructed them to flee to the wilderness due to the wickedness and impending destruction of the city. After trekking for weeks, the Lord said they needed to return to Jerusalem to get a record known as the Brass Plates, basically a set of scripture much like our old testament. So Nephi and his brothers went back.<br />
<br />
A very wicked man, a city official, was in possession of the record, and after several failed attempts at reasoning and bartering with him for the Brass Plates, the brothers were ready to give up. But Nephi refused to return to his parents in the wilderness without the record, and went into the city by night. He stumbled upon a drunk man, passed out in the streets of Jerusalem. It was the wicked city official, the one who was in possession of the record. And here's the shocker... Nephi was then instructed by the Lord to kill this man. More specifically, he was told, "... the Lord slayeth the wicked to bring forth his righteous purposes. It is better that one man should perish than that a nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief." (Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 4:14)<br />
<br />
pause.<br />
reread.<br />
think.<br />
formulate your own opinions...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">interesting, no? </div><div style="text-align: center;">applicable?</div><br />
Joseph Smith (a man i believe was called of God to be a prophet) said, "That which is wrong under one circumstance may be and often is right under another. God said, 'Thou shalt not kill.' At another time He said, 'Thou shalt utterly destroy.' This is the principle on which the government in Heaven is conducted, by revelation adapted to the circumstances in which the children of the Kingdom are placed. Whatever God requires is right, no matter what it is. Although we may not see the reason thereof until long after the events transpire." now i'm not saying osama's death was revealed or inspired of God, but i find it difficult to discern whether it's right or wrong. his death, i mean. this a rarity for me... i'm a very black-and-white person. i see things as either good and leading us towards God, or bad and authored by the devil. it's almost as if the only way i can explain the bin Laden situation is to say the death of him is beneficial to mankind, the pursuit of him was not. but that makes absolutely no sense, so i'm not satisfied with stopping there.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">so... onto the other story this whole situation has brought to mind,</span> also from the Book of Mormon (it's my favorite little book of life-lessons-learned....) his name was Gadianton. he was so incredibly wicked. right up there with Hitler, bin Laden, and Scar (the wicked uncle on Lion King... bad bad lion). Gadianton was bff with the devil. they worked together, had promises and made oaths with each other. About 20 years before Christ was born over in Jerusalem, Gadianton was spinning an intricate web of wickedness over in the Ancient Americas. he had a group, a gang called the Gadianton Robbers. in our day we would call them terrorists. they hid in the mountains where the government couldn't find them. they stole crops, animals, people... they incited violence and warfare, rooted fear in the hearts of the righteous. eventually they even usurped power and infiltrated the government. in the end, the Gadianton Robbers were the prime motivator behind the destruction of an entire righteous civilization.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">why?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">and can we learn from this, or will we continue to witness our own demise at the hand of terrorists?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">i'm still formulating my thoughts and opinions, but here's what i think it all comes down to: fear.</span> "doubt and fear will never exist in the minds of man at the same time alongside faith. it is impossible. one or the other will leave, faith or doubt and fear." (joseph smith)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">do you believe that? i believe that. i believe that when a person, or a community, or a country bases it's decisions, and eventually actions, on fear, then we don't leave ourselves room to act on more noble motivators. love. compassion. peace. understanding. empathy. faith.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">had the hiking boys had compassion on the pain of their fallen friend, rather than a fear of the snake's bite, his life would have been spared. and perhaps it is better to spare a good life than to take a bad life. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">martin luther king, jr. said it better, </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><strong></strong></span></div><strong><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, </span></span></span></div></strong><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Through violence you may murder the liar, </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Through violence you may murder the hater, </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">but you do not murder hate. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">In fact, violence merely increases hate. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">So it goes. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Darkness cannot drive out darkness: </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">only light can do that. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">(via my friend annie w.)</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">we have obtained a small victory, but perhaps the greater victory would be a restoration of the faith of the american people. faith in our government. faith in our economy. faith in our constitution. faith in our God.</span></span></div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-88026841181557344462011-04-13T09:35:00.001-10:002011-04-13T09:39:02.440-10:00say cheese!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">gwen is in a little mommy-and-me preschool called Tiny Tots.</span> it's a fun little program focused for a little bit of a younger age than gwennie, but since she's basically glued to my hip, i'm hoping it'll help her to transtition to big-kid preschool where mom won't be there the whole time. baby steps, you know.<br />
<br />
a few weeks ago they got their pictures, and we just got them back... ok so, well i was the <a href="http://fanijfoto.blogspot.com/">photographer</a>, haha! so i guess i've had them the whole time, but you know what i mean...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">i think she's looks so adorable and scholastic!</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fanijfoto/5616607165/" title="tiny tots-1 by fani j. foto, on Flickr"><img alt="tiny tots-1" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5030/5616607165_321a701867_z.jpg" width="427" /></a><br />
<br />
at the ripe ol' age of 3<br />
(oh gosh, did i even mention gwen's birthday last week?? oh dear... i'll get on that.)<br />
gwen can recognize her written name (and deli's...)<br />
kindofsortof write her name<br />
recite the alphabet<br />
can identify letter in the alphabet and knows most of their sounds<br />
can count to 20<br />
she loves to play the piano<br />
she absolutely, positively LOVES dancing<br />
she's big on make-believe games... she's pretty much always in her own little world<br />
she still wears size 18-24 mos.<br />
and she has so much lovey, cuddly, compassion in that little body it's a surprise she doesn't just burst!<br />
<br />
<br />
and i promise i'll post about her birthday ASAP...<br />
in my defense, she was sick so we still haven't gotten to celebrate (AHHH!!)<br />
but we will... this saturday! i just decided...<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-21168297248892096392011-04-12T08:14:00.003-10:002011-04-13T09:38:16.165-10:00dinner.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">today i'm cooking thai chicken and vegetable curry for dinner.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"></span>this shouldn't be as exciting as it is...<br />
<br />
but it is.<br />
<br />
i sifted through a few recipes online (i prefer <a href="http://allrecipes.com/">allrecipes.com</a>) and decided on this one.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Curried Coconut Chicken</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="recipe-photo" height="250" id="imgPhotoImage" src="http://images.media-allrecipes.com//site/allrecipes/area/community/userphoto/big/329273.jpg" width="250" /><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span></div><h3 style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #7a7a7a; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-size: 11px; font-weight: normal;"><h3 style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Ingredients</span></span></span></h3><ul style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" tabindex="-1"><li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2-inch chunks</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1 teaspoon salt and pepper, or to taste</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">2 tablespoons curry powder</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1/2 onion, thinly sliced</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">2 cloves garlic, crushed</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1 (14 ounce) can coconut milk</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1 (14.5 ounce) can stewed, diced tomatoes</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce</span></span></span></li>
<li class="plaincharacterwrap" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">3 tablespoons sugar</span></span></span></li>
</ul></span></span></h3><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><div class="ingredients" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;"><h3 style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #7a7a7a; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Directions</span></h3><ol style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: decimal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 16px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="plaincharacterwrap break" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Season chicken pieces with salt and pepper.</span></span></span></span></li>
<li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="plaincharacterwrap break" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Heat oil and curry powder in a large skillet over medium-high heat for two minutes. Stir in onions and garlic, and cook 1 minute more. Add chicken, tossing lightly to coat with curry oil. Reduce heat to medium, and cook for 7 to 10 minutes, or until chicken is no longer pink in center and juices run clear.</span></span></span></span></li>
<li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="plaincharacterwrap break" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; word-wrap: break-word;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Pour coconut milk, tomatoes, tomato sauce, and sugar into the pan, and stir to combine. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, approximately 30 to 40 minutes. (serves 6)</span></span></span></span></li>
</ol></span></span></span></div></div></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">i'm also adding some crookneck squash, bell pepper, and carrots to the mix, and serving it over coconut rice. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">it'll be a happy night in the jorgensen household, that's for sure.<br />
<br />
<br />
POSTEDIT: ohmyword it was DELICIOUS!!! the only changes i made were ketchup instead of tomato sauce (HAHAA!!! ridiculous, i know.) i ended up not adding the bells or squash (because they had somehow frozen solid in my veggie drawer... no good.)<br />
<br />
SO i HIGHLY recommend this recipe. it was a HUGE hit!</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-35952985440177479542011-04-10T15:44:00.002-10:002011-04-10T15:46:34.300-10:00it all started with a red-head named Ariel.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">so we were watching little mermaid,</span> and we're at that part where king triton finds ariel's cave of stuff...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img height="440" id="il_fi" src="http://images.wikia.com/disney/images/2/27/352371220-16172611.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="586" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">isn't it neat.</span></div><br />
and he's mad cause she loves a human, and she's mad because she's a teenager searching for independence and autonomy, and he goes on a rampage destroying all of her stuff with his magical scepter...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img height="480" id="il_fi" src="http://images.wikia.com/disney/images/6/6b/Beached66.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="639" /></div><br />
then ariel is sad and ursula's little eels show up and ariel decides to go with them.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">then i realized i'm not really into disney's hero formula.</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">betray everything you've known, gain your independence through the betrayal, everything's rainbows and butterflies in the end.</span> lion king, mulan, cinderella, snow white, sleeping beauty... they're all the same basic plot. and i'm also not into how westernized it all is. yah yah, i'm a westerner, obviously. but really, individuality isn't what life's all about. it's about family, and working together, and the greater good for the greatest amount of people.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">back to ariel hooking up with ursula.</span> so my girls, mostly deli, noticed that ariel disobeyed her daddy, and she said, "hey mom. did ariel do a no-no? she's not being obeying, right?" so then we talked about how ariel should have gone back home to her dad and talked to him, and how dad was mad but he still loved her and he needed to say sorry, and ursula gives us yucky feelings and we don't want friends who give us yucky feelings, and how mermaids should marry mermaids and humans should marry humans... and i gotta say, that's the day that "little mermaid" lost it's bedazzlement for me.<br />
<br />
now it's not like i'm boycotting disney or anything... i'm sure we'll be popping in "the princess and the frog" in an hour or so. i'm just finding myself to be the ultra-sensitive, borderline paranoid parent i never thought i would be. cause if in 14 years from now deli is falling in love with the "wrong guy" (i mean, erik was quality human, but not good for ariel... you know what i mean??) and we lose our tops over it, i hope she comes back home to us instead of running off to the nearest elvis impersonating dude and tying the knot without so much as a call home.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">is anybody out there picking up what i'm putting down?</span>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06683192961627140992noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-49529476322212030232011-03-24T17:18:00.006-10:002011-03-24T20:42:36.710-10:00tick tock<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3bcPNotDHKk5Vv2UItgTo4TS_BRwVnBlAjsPJjz8rAOKRgpGpLMCQ6LooZw_DniomsgWLx1CPo38GkBNmb06i8hvc5alvXEfV-Hk-zIulX6TJUen8cOtVkHOUXAoXzy1oUhb4uuhs2I/s1600/IMG_3133.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: left;">i always like to know what time it is. if i wake up in the middle of the night the first thing i do is find a clock. i'm like the white rabbit from alice in wonderland.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://coachingforinspiration.com/wp-content/uploads/rabbit%20Alice%20in%20Wonderland.gif" id="il_fi" height="330" width="453" style="padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 8px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and can you believe that i went y.e.a.r.s. without a watch.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">years, people!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and then one of my super awesome piano students showed up to a lesson wearing a rumba. "what's a rumba?" you might ask. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">only the coolest watch ever!!!! (for under $20)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so i got an orange rumba for christmas, and have since purchased 2 whites and a yellow. next up, light blue and houndstooth. yes, a houndstooth watch! oh the insanity! oh the merriment!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.rumbatime.com/rumbatime/shop/images/5836/VanDam%20Collectionscale1.jpg" id="il_fi" height="371" width="827" style="padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 8px; " /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">you should check them out... cause it's <a href="http://www.rumbatime.com/rumbatime/shop#2" target="new">rumba time</a>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">i personally prefer the van dam versions, but owned an essex and liked it too, mainly cuz it has a light and didn't give me swist (sweaty wrist). but my essex died for no apparent reason... very disappointing. i think it wasn't as water resistant as it thought it was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">you can rumba in the morning...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNBkkaMZQzAB2Naz5GLkHgwtEsXwqoT-Yb2PSLa4lZ1PNToSvA3rTXFkHb9mfPaRpO4Z7HjrVTyryHn5zKffY4cERB4hrqV8jzNVJn5EC8x7dV5WuFKSzDmpjg_Zt_TJEovqi3bT_2pCk/s400/IMG_3022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587858282170583074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">or in the afternoon...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3bcPNotDHKk5Vv2UItgTo4TS_BRwVnBlAjsPJjz8rAOKRgpGpLMCQ6LooZw_DniomsgWLx1CPo38GkBNmb06i8hvc5alvXEfV-Hk-zIulX6TJUen8cOtVkHOUXAoXzy1oUhb4uuhs2I/s400/IMG_3133.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587858284097186418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">all i'm saying is, let's start a rumba revolution!</div><div style="text-align: left;">cause really, they are that awesome.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06683192961627140992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-5638128877773600122011-03-21T11:35:00.006-10:002011-03-21T11:42:38.116-10:00you wanna read a book?i'm a member of a hip and cool book club. "books and broads" we call ourselves. and this month we're reading this...<div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://kpl.lib.mo.us/content_uploads/Uglies-the-uglies-672151_316_442.jpg" id="il_fi" height="442" width="316" style="padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px; padding-bottom: 8px; " /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://erinleigh8.blogspot.com/">my niester</a> says it's awesome.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">have you read it?</div><div style="text-align: center;">can i borrow it??</div><div style="text-align: center;">haha! (true story...)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">if you wanna read it with us, feel free to <a href="http://booksandbroads.blogspot.com/">join the fun</a>!</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06683192961627140992noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-87982052557340151092011-03-16T19:51:00.002-10:002011-03-16T20:02:06.170-10:00the new JB<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">you really really need to watch this... really.</span></div><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CD2LRROpph0?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">fun fun fun fun</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-55643960260118166182011-03-15T10:47:00.000-10:002011-03-15T10:47:02.840-10:00pineapple fields forever<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">at the first of the year deli's preschool took a fieldtrip to the dole pineapple plantation.</span> it was pretty awesome... and gwen was super duper stoke that she got to come too!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="sisters" border="0" class="pc_img" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5059/5529624643_de3c76532c_z.jpg" width="427" /></div><br />
we started with fish feeding...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="run" border="0" class="pc_img" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5012/5530196744_f8cf23c5bf_z.jpg" width="427" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="feedin fish" border="0" class="pc_img" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5012/5529590235_bb1d93703a_z.jpg" width="640" /></div><br />
then train riding... gwen was kinda freaking out on the train. she was hungry. and there were no buckles... and the whistle. oh the whistle... so the pics are limited cause the cuddles were overflowing.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<img alt="train" border="0" class="pc_img" height="439" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5175/5529721831_9cdcb95a77_z.jpg" width="640" /><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="tractor" border="0" class="pc_img" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5136/5530224744_e1abcb9dfa_z.jpg" width="427" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">yep, a tractor. my girls LOVE large equipment. tractors. cranes. steam rollers, digger trucks. (i don't know the technical terms...) they were in large equipment heaven seeing tractor after tractor... </div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">the maze.</span> i think we got just a little lost in the maze.<br />
man that maze is a beast... well i mean if you have a stroller involved and can't take the shortcuts. it was a beast.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img height="357" id="il_fi" src="http://www.planetware.com/i/photo/dole-plantation-country-store-and-maze-oahu-hih1170.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="500" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.planetware.com/picture/oahu-dole-plantation-country-store-and-maze-us-hih1170.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not mine.</span></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> (there's no way the pathways are that big... no way.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">the first time we ever went to dole we fell for the oyster lady's sneaky sales ways.</div><div style="text-align: center;">has anyone else fallen for it?? please say yes...</div><div style="text-align: center;">she shows you this cool clam/oyster shell and says, "open it! if there's a pearl inside you get to keep it!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">and i thought WHOA!</div><div style="text-align: center;">and case thought WHOA!</div><div style="text-align: center;">and we opened it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">and there was a pearl.</div><div style="text-align: center;">and we were so excited! i mean what are the chances?!?!</div><div style="text-align: center;">OURS HAD A PEARL!! no way!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and then her hand is extended towards us.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">palm up and open.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">and she said something about how once you open a oyster you have to buy the pearl....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/calsidyrose/4232700482/" title="Pearls at Dole Plantation by Calsidyrose, on Flickr"><img alt="Pearls at Dole Plantation" height="375" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4052/4232700482_ac504eb93e.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i still have that pearl. in a box. somewhere.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">the girls were limp noodles the rest of the day, completely exhausted, went to bed early.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that's what i call a good fieldtrip.<br />
<br />
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-8136002315745920202011-03-13T16:36:00.002-10:002011-03-13T16:39:06.837-10:00growing.<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fanijfoto/5524444249/" title="bums by fani j. foto, on Flickr"><img alt="bums" height="640" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5212/5524444249_6d38140b4d_z.jpg" width="427" /></a><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">yep. it's true.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">they grow up.</span><br />
<br />
and in the case of my eldest, they grow WAY up...<br />
deli is just scratching at 4 feet of height<br />
and her little toddler bed is certainly not cutting it anymore.<br />
<br />
so casey's building us one of these:<br />
<img alt="perludi_AMBERintheSKY_09.jpg" border="0" src="http://www.perludi.com/media/produkte/galerie_neu/AMBERintheSKY/perludi_AMBERintheSKY_09.jpg" style="text-align: left;" /><br />
<br />
except ours will be gray, cause deli said so.<br />
light gray.<br />
"like a quarter only not so shiny."<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-30239012652349171372011-02-28T22:37:00.002-10:002011-02-28T22:57:31.090-10:00hello world.<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">1. press play </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(might wanna downsize it to 380p first...)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">2. read</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="510" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3KkUeRPjc-Y?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="853"></iframe><br />
<br />
i think i've taken a long enough blogging break...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">so, i'm back.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's been a crazy several months since we've talked. to sum it up in a generalized, impersonal sentence,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the recession hit our home and we've fought back with tenacity.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">so we're busybusybusy with side jobs... woodworking, car fixing, piano teaching, photo shooting... and high-quality family time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">God is good.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He loves His children.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He blesses those who serve Him.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">true story.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">high-quality family time... gosh i love my little humans. i mean really really adore them. it's a fierce love. (why don't we have other words for "love"?) and i LOVE, ADORE, OBSESS OVER, LIVE FOR my family. i never would have guessed that this would be me. a happy homemaker: sewing, baking, cooking, cleaning, laundering, wiping scrapes, making beds, scrubbing toilets, and loving it all. i love it! I LOVE MY LIFE. i feel like what i do, my day to day, it has real purpose.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">and tonight at dinner when deli asked me if i knew who Thomas S. Monson was, and before i could answer she went on about how we don't live in kahuku but the hospital lives in kahuku, and laie is where we go for food, and we live on keanawali place in haulula, and gwen piped in that God lives in heaven and it's far far away past kahuku but he drives so so so SO fast... i just sat and soaked in all their jibber jabbering.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">gwen talks with her hands. deli talks with her eyebrows.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">then after a long talk about daddy's special powers (the priesthood) and why guitars have strings and pianos have strings but pianos hide their strings, and why boys run faster than girls and how it has nothing to do with daddy's special powers, we had some ice cream cones. deli got brain freeze. gwen turned into a melted mushy puddle of frozen dairy confectionary.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and now they're sleeping. and it's freezing. and my other half is on another island, also sleeping. </div><div style="text-align: center;">and i'm folding laundry... well, i was before i started typing.</div><div style="text-align: center;">(okay, i never actually started folding. but it's there. clean. and i have the intent to fold...)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and i'm happy and grateful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i mean wow... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">wow!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">life is good.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-84738462473594871452011-01-29T09:46:00.000-10:002011-01-29T09:46:40.317-10:00STORY TIME SATURDAY! 5 little monkeys jumping on the bedthis week's storytime saturday is brought to you by Gweneth.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyDwIMl9NEld1S9Ity5P8SGwQmOugLr_ngiv7vd7i8J_BMhXpOVuHfSVXXjR6sqq_qBaWphsIWvrcHm8LevXzdKXl1eT7oJo5pBvFQUc7HGf6hjv3Xe5NJeyIfJ4bJ_LweOQfgXqJgcXQ/s1600/IMG_2606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyDwIMl9NEld1S9Ity5P8SGwQmOugLr_ngiv7vd7i8J_BMhXpOVuHfSVXXjR6sqq_qBaWphsIWvrcHm8LevXzdKXl1eT7oJo5pBvFQUc7HGf6hjv3Xe5NJeyIfJ4bJ_LweOQfgXqJgcXQ/s320/IMG_2606.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">she picked <u>Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed</u></div><div style="text-align: center;">by Eileen Christelow</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">she says, "i like this book... um... i want to read it to you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">cuz, cuz the monkeys aren't ok to jumping on their mommy's bed....</div><div style="text-align: center;">and cuz i no jumping on mommy's bed eider."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="510" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EuuXRoveslQ" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="640"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>stef j.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04438620518738259432noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6131365926720501717.post-7240171703788302652011-01-27T11:37:00.001-10:002011-01-27T11:45:01.870-10:00swing. play.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiENxcNxORVK89MUPf-_dThd6KDE_H5Rsl1FfLJ5fYz9dKReKm2MM_EbDHmEeGeFnx7zCZPfSC7oyY9i1Z5GlOMtOQonpU-YQhPOC3Bb0t14LqwvRHWMyFDxAjgrckbgh_leD44cIxIdU/s1600/IMG_2586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiENxcNxORVK89MUPf-_dThd6KDE_H5Rsl1FfLJ5fYz9dKReKm2MM_EbDHmEeGeFnx7zCZPfSC7oyY9i1Z5GlOMtOQonpU-YQhPOC3Bb0t14LqwvRHWMyFDxAjgrckbgh_leD44cIxIdU/s320/IMG_2586.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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